After Wedding

I went to a colleague’s wedding last evening, the kind of elegant celebration where everyone’s dressed to impress. I chose a black padded maxi dress, long and flowing, yet fitted enough to show off my curves. For this night, I went braless, letting the dress provide just enough support, and kept a thong on for minimal coverage.

The deep neckline revealed just enough cleavage, adding a subtle touch of daring while still looking classy. Some of you guys do notice, even when I went braless or wore padded clothing, I would usually wear nipple stickers, especially for big events like this, to stay comfortable and avoid accidental attention, but that night, I decided to skip them, wanting to feel bold, daring, and just a little mischievous.

The wedding itself was beautiful. The venue was softly lit, tables adorned with flowers, music floating through the air. I mingled and laughed, catching up with ex-colleagues I hadn’t seen in months. Most of my coworkers were there, including my bosses, so I kept my composure, elegant and poised, but under the surface, I was buzzing with a private thrill, the knowledge that I was braless under my dress, that every sway of the fabric hugged me just so, daring and free.

At one point, two of my close female colleagues leaned in and teased me about my cleavage, whispering playful comments and nudging me with sly smiles. I laughed, pretending to be modest, but inside I was thrilled, the attention only added to the mischievous energy I was carrying all night.

The ceremony went smoothly, the speeches were heartfelt, and the dancing was fun. I kept things classy, interacting with everyone normally, all while secretly enjoying the bold, daring freedom of my outfit. The gentle sway of the fabric and the hint of cleavage made me feel flirty, mischievous, and alive

By the end of the night, as the festivities wound down, I decided to head home when the rest decided to go for round two. Xav had gone to Shanghai for a meeting, and part of me missed his presence but also enjoying the freedom, which added a twinge of daring to my mood. I booked a Grab, sliding into the back seat with a playful sense of mischief.

Sliding into the back seat of the Grab, I could already feel the slight arousal from the evening, thanks to the teasing from my colleagues, the wine and the daring freedom of being braless under my black maxi dress. The driver was focused on the road, polite and professional, completely unaware of the little game I was about to play.

I purposely chose the middle seat, even though I was wearing a long dress, giving me full freedom to move and tease. I leaned forward slightly, under the pretense of wanting to feel the cool air from the air-conditioning, letting the top of my dress shift and sway teasingly across my chest. Every motion was deliberate, a playful invitation hidden in plain sight, daring the driver to notice without being obvious.

Tilting my head and brushing my hair over one shoulder, I let the dress cling and move with every subtle shift. Every tilt of my shoulder, every casual adjustment of my posture, was part of the secret thrill, a bold, mischievous game in an otherwise ordinary moment. The quiet hum of the engine and the glow of streetlights outside made the tension between us electric and charged.

I let out a soft, exaggerated sigh, leaning forward just a little more, as if trying to get the cool air to hit me fully, letting the fabric of my dress sway and brush against me in the most tantalizing way. The thrill of teasing someone without them fully realizing it, of being daring and playful in public, made my pulse race.

Sadly, the driver didn’t look at me once, his eyes firmly on the road, continuing to drive as if nothing unusual was happening. That only made the game more deliciously frustrating and thrilling. The audacity of my movements, the teasing sway of my dress, all unnoticed by him, yet fueling my own mischievous excitement.

Trust me, I stayed in that position for a good 3 to 5 minutes, just enjoying the sway of the fabric and the tease, while the driver remained completely focused on the road, oblivious to my little game.

By the time we were almost home, I decided to take my little game one step further. I slid over slightly in the seat, letting the long fabric of my black maxi dress drape naturally, giving me just enough space to move. My pulse quickened, the thrill of doing something so daring in public made my heart race.

With careful, subtle motions, I slipped my hand beneath the dress, found the string of my thong, and eased it down. It was such a mischievous, playful move, a naughty secret that no one else would ever know. The rush of excitement, bold and teasing, sent shivers through me.

The driver never glanced my way, focused entirely on the road. That obliviousness only made the moment more intoxicating, the thrill of my daring little secret pulsing through me. I leaned back slowly, letting the dress settle over me, savoring the sway of the fabric and the mischievous energy I’d built.

Before I alighted, I tucked my thong neatly into the side pocket of the door, a tiny, playful memento of my daring little game. I couldn’t help but grin, imagining him finding my “little present” after his shift, completely unaware of the bold mischief that had just taken place.

One link to another

Guys, I think Xav is getting bolder by the day.

Last week, on a weekday evening, I went jogging with Xav at Labrador Park. I wasn’t expecting anything naughty, especially since I’d just finished my period. But out of nowhere, Xav grabbed my butt and asked for a quickie. Despite the surprise, I could feel his excitement growing under his shorts. Two days without sex had clearly made him eager.

As we headed down the stairs, the idea of a quickie outdoors gave me a thrill. We found a secluded hut, away from the main path, and made sure no one was watching, no CCTV, no passersby. Xav wanted to make a hole in my black Nike leggings instead of pulling them down. I hesitated at first, worried about ruining my only pair, but his expert fingers and the promise of a new Lululemon pair convinced me.

As he carefully tearing up a hole, my arousal built up. The anticipation was intoxicating and thanks to the way he tried to tear my legging, I was stimulated by the touching. 

Once the hole was big enough, Xav didn’t waste time, he pushed through immediately. The sudden sensation made me moan, feeling my wetness seep through the fabric. 

As he thrust repeatedly, it didn’t take long for him to climax. I could feel him swelling inside me, and within second, he pulled out and his release spilled onto my thigh, leaving a sticky mess. To my frustration, he even wiped himself on my leggings afterward.

Once he was done, Xav worked his magic with his fingers, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. His fingers were gentle at first, slowly sliding inside me, exploring every inch with a tender, deliberate touch. I could feel each stroke stirring a deep heat that spread from my core out to every nerve ending. His fingertips traced my inner walls, circling spots that made my breath hitch and my pulse race.

The sensation was unlike any other, a delicious tension building with every flick and press of his skilled fingers. My body responded instinctively, squeezing around him, desperate for more. I felt my wetness increase, pooling warmly and slickly, mixing with the cool air outside.

The pressure built and built until finally, I couldn’t hold back anymore. With a shuddering gasp, my legs gave way beneath me, and waves of pleasure crashed through my body. It was overwhelming, an intense, shattering release that left me trembling. The thrill of being so exposed in the open air, combined with Xav’s expert touch, made it one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had outdoors.

While we were tidying up, Xav suggested trying it again in an open park, right under the moonlight. My first instinct was to scold him, but secretly, I loved the idea.

Over the following weeks, we searched for the perfect secluded spot for our moonlit adventures. We considered places like the Botanic Gardens and Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve, but both felt too exposed, too risky with potential visitors or wildlife.

Eventually, nostalgia brought us back to a familiar yet unexpected place, a quiet patch of grass where years ago, I’d lost my thong during a wild moment (if you’ve read my post, you’ll know which spot). Returning there felt poetic, like reclaiming a piece of the past while making a new memory.

So yesterday, we went for it.

As we approached the secluded area, my heart raced with anticipation, and a bit of fear. It’d been a while since I’d visited, and I wasn’t sure if anyone would be around at night. The thrill of doing something naughty in a semi-public place was exhilarating.

We parked nearby and walked toward the grass patch’s center. The moon wasn’t at the top yet, and the nearest streetlamp was distant enough to keep us in shadow.

After scanning for any humans or factories, Xav spread out a mat. As soon as we settled, he didn’t hesitate, his hands roamed my tit, slipping under my black spaghetti top (no bra underneath), while our lips met in heated kisses. His touch sent electric jolts through me, and I could feel my nipples was more harden under his fingers.

He stripped me slowly, each movement unhurried, as though savoring the moment. My top slid over my head, his knuckles brushing against my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then came the bottoms, peeled down inch by inch until they slipped free, leaving me in nothing but the thin black thong ( I specially wore a Micro thong )

His fingertips followed the edge of the thin fabric, lingering where I was already throbbing, circling and teasing until my arousal seeped through the material. Gently, he slid the thin strip of my G-string to the side and shifted closer, kneeling beside me. His fingers drifted over my folds, moving in soft, deliberate circles that made my whole body tremble with anticipation. Then he gently slid one finger inside me, slow and deliberate, as if learning every curve and contour. The sensation was electric, the cool air mixing with the warmth inside, every movement deepening the delicious tension building between us.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud as he expertly curled his fingers, hitting that perfect spot that made my knees weak and my breath catch ( I was still kneeing).  His touch was patient, teasing me mercilessly, making me ache for more.

Just as I was on the edge of a shuddering orgasm, he removed his finger and pressed himself against me, his erection warm and heavy through his swimming trunk ( Yes, I forced him to wear it ). 

He then positioned me into doggy-style before pulling out his dick and slid inside me. The cold night air contrasted with his heat, making every thrust feel intense and unforgettable. I could feel myself stretching around him, every movement awakening new waves of sensation.

As Xav thrust into me, the cold night air contrasting with the heat of his body made every movement feel electric. His rhythm was strong but impatient and I know he wasn’t going to last long. I could feel the tension building inside him, each deep thrust pushing him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, he pulled out and without warning, came right there. His warm cum splattering across my ass. The sensation was both shocking and intensely erotic. I wasn't really prepare for him to be that fast. The sticky warmth contrasting with the cool air on my skin.

As I were cleaning his cum with a tissue, Xav guided me to stand( I thought he was going to help me wipe) and his hands were everywhere again before removing my G-string totally, exposing me fully to the night and to him. At that moment, I was afraid as I was totally exposed but he did not give me a chance to rest. He slid two fingers inside me, slow at first, tracing gentle circles that made my breath hitch. Then, he began to move them with increasing urgency, curling them expertly to hit every sensitive spot.

The combination of the cool night breeze on my exposed skin, the full exposure and the warm, wet pressure of his fingers inside me sent waves of pleasure radiating through my body. I felt my muscles tighten around him instinctively, desperate for more, while his thumb rubbed softly against my clit, sending sharp jolts of sensation that made me squirm.

His touch was teasing and relentless, fingers shifting rhythm like knowing exactly what would break me. My breaths came faster and more ragged, and I could feel my hips begin to buck involuntarily as I built toward the edge.

Just as the tension became unbearable, his tongue joined in, hitting that perfect spot again, and with a shuddering cry, I came hard. My whole body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over me. My legs went weak, and I sank slightly into him, trembling but utterly satisfied.

Xav smiled and started to kiss on my neck softly, while his fingers still gently stroking my sensitive spots as I caught my breath.

After my orgasm, Xav’s fingers slowed, then gently withdrew, leaving me trembling and breathless. We stayed there for a good half hour, more or less, just lying close together on the mat under the night sky. I was still in nothing. My skin still tingling from everything that had just happened. The cool air brushed against my heated flesh, making me shiver in that delicious way, the contrast sending sparks through me.

I was way too wet to even think of wearing back my shorts, and Xav, with a knowing smile, told me it was fine to just walk back to the car like that, no shorts, but just my top and G-string. It was a little scary but incredibly exhilarating. I managed to put back my top before leaving the area. Every step felt bold, the night air cooling my flushed skin, and the soft whisper of fabric against my bare legs reminding me of how exposed I was.

As we got into the car and started driving, the night quiet around us, I noticed a few groups of people hanging out along the roadside, some smoking, some chatting casually. Their silhouettes lit by distant streetlights.

Suddenly, a wave of nervous excitement washed over me. Had they heard my moans? or seen any hint of what we’d just done? The thought sent a thrilling shiver down my spine.

Xav caught my eye with a mischievous grin, squeezing my hand gently. “If they did,” he whispered, “well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, heart still pounding from the night’s adventure. The risk, the rawness, it all made the experience unforgettable.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Three hours

Recently, I ended up spending about three hours outside wearing only a jacket, no bra, no thong, no tee, not even shorts. Originally, I had just planned to go down and grab my letter from the mailbox. It was already 11 p.m., so I didn’t expect to run into anyone.

By sheer coincidence, I bumped into my primary school friend, a girl I hadn’t seen since secondary two, even though we lived nearby. My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t planned on being seen like this, and suddenly I was hyper-aware of every curve and movement under the thin jacket.

At first, I hadn’t expected to chat for long, but the conversation quickly turned into a proper catch-up. We even settled down at the nearby bench. As we talked, I realized my mind was split, 50% focused on catching up with her, 50% caught up in the flirty, teasing sensations of being lightly exposed. She told me about her recent marriage, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and nostalgia. Yet while I was engaged in our talk, I couldn’t ignore the subtle warmth and awareness of my own body, the way the jacket clung to me. Every small shift, every adjustment of the jacket, felt playful and mischievous.

By the time we said goodbye, three hours had passed. What started as a quick trip to grab a letter had turned into a long, private, and playful moment. Throughout the encounter, I could feel a subtle stickiness across my body, especially along my bottom, luckily, I didn’t leak, although I knew I was moist since the start.

Helibo Cushion

Hey guys, have you heard about the Helibo Cushion? It’s a multifunctional massage cushion designed to hug your body, with five massage zones, two warming zones, and optional attachments that make sitting an unexpectedly indulgent experience. It comes with a telescopic massage rod, a prostate wand, and a PC‑muscle stimulator, all controllable via a wireless remote. It’s sleek, discreet, and promises a level of comfort and teasing you wouldn’t expect from an ordinary cushion.

Thanks to Isabel, who gifted it to me, I finally got the chance to try it yesterday. At first, it looked simple enough, smooth black curve that seemed innocent but the moment I perched on it, I realized it was far from ordinary.

The moment I settled onto it, I could feel it pressing, hugging, and responding in ways I hadn’t expected. Every slight shift of my hips, every lean forward or back, made it spring to life like it was teasing me on purpose. I found myself wiggling, adjusting, testing it, just to see how it would react like it knew exactly what to do to make me aware of every inch of myself.

I experimented with the settings, discovering how the pulses varied in intensity and how responsive it was to shifts in my posture. Leaning forward, tilting back, or crossing my legs revealed new pockets of comfort I hadn’t expected.

The pulses and warmth worked together in a perfectly playful rhythm. I felt entirely in control and yet completely at the mercy of this little teasing contraption. It was naughty without being overt, a secret indulgence that left me giggling and squirming in delight. Even just sitting, I could feel the subtle ways it responded to my movements, rewarding the tiniest gestures in the most satisfying way.

Before I even realized it, I was damp from how immersive the experience had become, even without using the other attachments yet. I was, in fact, aiming for an orgasm, but I hesitated, worried I might dirty the cushion. That little tension made everything feel even more teasing and playful, every pulse, every wave of warmth became more intense as I balanced desire with restraint.

The cushion wasn’t just about comfort, it was a private playground of sensations, teasing, playful, and a little daring. I stayed longer than I meant to, completely wrapped up in this flirty little game, and when I finally got up, I was met with a subtle coldness from my dampness via my thong, contrasting sharply with the lingering warmth of the massage zones. The Helibo Cushion had turned an ordinary chair into a teasing, immersive retreat, and I couldn’t wait to sit down and explore it all over again.

Just for fun, I’m sitting on it even as I type this. My thong has been wet since the start, and the gentle pulses are still delightfully stimulating. I even reached my first peak of pleasure earlier on, which made the teasing sensations even more intense now. I can’t wait to experiment with the other attachments after this, seeing just how much more fun this little cushion can get.

Colleague and her husband

Last Friday had the kind of energy that made me feel like I could get away with anything.

It all started innocently enough, a late-night movie with a work friend and her husband. Nothing out of the ordinary on the surface. Just the three of us in a mostly empty cinema. Xav was supposed to join, but bailed last minute because of overtime. I was furious, not just because he flaked, but because he completely derailed my plans. I had something else in mind.

I dressed the way I felt, a little bold, completely unbothered. Oversized black hoodie zipped all the way up, long and baggy enough to pass as a dress. Underneath? Just a black bra and a thin thong. No pants. No shorts. No intention of playing it safe. No one would know anyway, unless I wanted them to.

Thankfully, my friend offered to pick me up, saving me from stewing in frustration over Xav’s no-show.

The theater was quiet, scattered couples tucked into corners, too cozy to notice anything beyond each other. We picked the back row, tucked into a shadowy corner. The perfect little hideaway in the dark.

We arrived a little early and before the trailers even rolled, I excused myself to the restroom, not because I needed to go, but because I knew exactly what I was about to do.

Inside the stall, I locked the door and, in one smooth, deliberate motion, slipped off my panties. I folded them neatly and tucked them into the pocket of my hoodie.
The sensation that followed was immediate, electric. It felt like peeling away the last layer between me and the night. Suddenly everything felt sharper. The cool air against bare skin. The awareness of my own body. The knowledge that I had just made myself vulnerable and no one knew.

Back in my seat, I settled in like nothing had happened. But everything had.

I crossed my legs. The cool air teased me, brushing softly over the most sensitive parts. The hoodie hung innocently over my thighs, zipped up and modest, but underneath, I was bare. Every subtle movement sent ripples through me. Every shift in posture was a jolt of sensation. I tugged the hem slightly higher on my hips, careful, intentional. Hidden in plain sight. That was the thrill.

For a while, I stayed still. My heart beat a little faster, a sly smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Then I moved again, curling my legs into the seat, balanced delicately on the edge of control. The position opened me just enough to feel completely exposed, even if no one could see. My skin prickled. My breath slowed. It was almost too much, and yet not enough.

The movie played, but I couldn’t focus. Every rustle from the row ahead sent little jolts of awareness through me. I kept catching myself holding my breath, waiting. Wondering.
What if someone turned around? What if they saw?

Time stretched, suspended in that shadowy corner of the world. All that existed was the thrum of anticipation and the quiet, wicked buzz of secrecy.

When the credits finally rolled, I lowered my legs, adjusted my hoodie, and stood like nothing had happened. Calm. Innocent. Composed. My friend looked at me for a moment, unreadable. Maybe she noticed something. Maybe not. Either way, I felt flushed and glowing, charged with satisfaction.

By the time we were back in the car, the rush had softened into something warm and lingering.
A night that left no trace, except a folded pair of panties in my pocket and a memory that felt far too good for how little I’d actually done.

Sometimes the best kind of mischief is the kind no one ever knows about.

Library

Yesterday was beyond thrilling, I reached a new milestone: selling my freshest, juiciest panties yet.

The truth is, I’d made a deal with a buyer who craved something extra special. He was willing to pay triple the usual price, but with one strict condition: he wanted my freshest, juiciest panties, meaning straight from a freshly earned orgasm. I couldn’t resist, but not because of the money, but because pushing my limits always turns me on.

Why the library? It’s my favorite secret spot, quiet, discreet, with plenty of hidden corners. The perfect place for a daring game no one else would suspect.

I arrived earlier than planned, hoping to avoid him, but fate had other ideas. He was there around the same time, though he was grabbing breakfast at McDonald’s when I sent my photo text.

I settled into a secluded corner and with deliberate teasing moves, I orgasmed after edged twice, one of my favorite tricks to build up more juices and stretch the pleasure. Then, without a sound, I orgasmed silently, my body shivering from the intense waves of release.

I wasn’t sure if anyone noticed the trembling, but I was almost certain an older lady caught a glimpse of my soaked pink thong when it picked up from the floor. Trust me, I’d been scanning the room carefully before deciding to remove it, but just as I was about to tuck it away, the lady appeared out of nowhere.

My fingers was shaking when I slid the damp panties into a ziplock bag, heart pounding with the rush of being so close to being caught. After packing my things, I crept over to a shadowy corner of the bookshelf and slipped the bagged treasure between the volumes—my secret gift, hidden in plain sight.

Uniform fetish??

A few weeks ago, I surprised Xav with a Japanese schoolgirl uniform for his birthday. Tight blouse, short skirt, the whole fantasy. I thought it’d be a fun, one-time thing.

Apparently not.

Since that night, he’s become obsessed. He’s been bringing home other school uniforms, SAJC, ACS, Woodgrove Sec, ACJC, NYJC. I don’t even know where he’s getting them, but they’re all perfectly folded and still in brand-new packaging. Like… does he have a secret supplier?

Don’t get me wrong, I play along. It’s not exactly hard to slip into a skirt and let him ravish me like a forbidden secret. But I still don’t totally understand the appeal. The uniforms don’t stay on for long. Half the time, they’re pulled aside or yanked off before anything really begins.

When I asked him what it is about them that drives him so crazy, he just smirked and said, “It’s a guy thing.”
Cool. That told me absolutely nothing.

So here’s my question for all of you:
What’s the deal with the school uniform kink?
Is it the innocence? The control? The taboo? The aesthetic? Or is it just a deep nostalgia thing I’ll never fully understand?

If you’re someone who’s into it, or if you’ve been with someone who is — I’d love to hear your take. Leave a comment or DM me. No judgment, just curiosity.