Vistiéndose en el yate

"You seriously think I haven't noticed the way you look at me?" she whispered, pressing her back against the deck railing. Her fingers had already slid across my shirt, pretending to straighten my collar, but they lingered on my chest, feeling my heart hammer underneath.

The Mediterranean wind tossed her hair around, the yacht swaying gently on the waves, while dinner with the partners had just wrapped up in the main salon. Margarita Vladlenovna—my strict, formidable boss—looked especially dangerous tonight in a tight black dress that hugged every curve of her mature body. Me, Alexei, the new analyst, had barely managed to keep my eyes off her all evening. And now we were alone.

"I'm just... joking," I breathed out, but my voice betrayed me, cracking. Her eyes burned with challenge, her lips parting slightly.

"Joking? Then let's have a real laugh. I've got a costume in my cabin for the corporate party. Go change. I want to see how you look in women's lingerie."

My heart dropped. Desire flared instantly, heat spreading across my skin. I nodded, unable to refuse. We descended into her luxurious cabin. The door clicked shut behind us. Margarita sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs, and gestured toward the open wardrobe.

"Start with the stockings. Slowly. I want to watch."

My hands trembled as I pulled off my shirt. Her gaze scorched me. I slid on the sheer black stockings, feeling the nylon grip my thighs tight, my skin tingling with arousal. My cock was already hard, straining against the fabric of my boxers.

"Next. Put these on. They're mine," her voice dropped lower, huskier. "And don't hide. Show me everything."

I stripped off my boxers. My cock sprang free, heavy and throbbing. Margarita licked her lips. I stepped into her lace panties—tight, they gripped my balls and the base of my shaft, the head poking out the top, glistening with the first beads of precum.

"God, you're so turned on..." she whispered, rising to her feet. "Now the dress. The short red one. The one I wear on the yacht when I want to drive someone crazy."

The dress slid over my body. The fabric caressed my nipples, the hem barely covering my ass. I stood before her, dressed up, trembling, my cock straining against the lace. Margarita stepped close. Her palms landed on my hips, then slowly traveled up, hiking the hem higher.

"You look so fucking tempting... My bold little boy in my clothes," she pressed against me, her warm skin searing through the thin fabric. Her fingers wrapped around my cock through the lace, stroking slowly. I moaned.

"Margarita... I can't... this is too much..."

"You can. And you will," she shoved me onto the bed. The dress rode up, exposing the panties stretched over my rock-hard cock. She peeled off her own dress in one fluid motion, left in black lingerie. Her breasts heaved, nipples poking through the lace of her bra.

She climbed on top, straddling my hips. Her wet pussy pressed against my cock through the fabric of her panties. She began to grind, slow and rhythmic, leaving a damp trail on the lace.

"You feel how wet I am?" she breathed, leaning down. Her lips met mine. The kiss was hungry, tongues tangling. "I want you exactly like this... dressed up, obedient, burning hot."

Her hand pushed her panties aside. The head of my cock pressed into her hot, slick folds. She sank down hard, taking me all the way. We both cried out. The tightness of her cunt squeezed me, heat enveloping every inch.

"Oh... so deep..." she groaned, starting to move. Her hips slapped against mine, the dress rustling. I grabbed her waist, thrusting up. Each stroke made her tits bounce.

She leaned lower, whispering in my ear:

"Fuck me harder... in that dress you're so... so mine... Cum inside me when I tell you."

The pace escalated. Sweat slicked our skin, the sheets soaked. I felt her walls pulsing, clenching around my cock. She sat up straighter, one hand working her clit, the other pinching my nipples through the dress.

"Yes... just like that... don't stop," her voice shook. I watched her body tense, her thighs quivering.

Suddenly she froze, clamping down hard around me.

"Now... cum with me!"

I bucked up, burying my cock to the hilt. Hot cum flooded into her in thick pulses. Margarita cried out, her pussy spasming in orgasm, milking every last drop from me. We trembled together, bodies pressed tight and slick.

Afterward, she slowly climbed off, lying beside me, leaving the dress on me. Her fingers lazily traced my ass through the fabric.

The night passed in a half-sleep, punctuated by soft kisses and touches. I woke first in the morning. Coffee was already brewing in the cabin's little machine, the aroma filling the space. I was still in her red dress, panties slightly askew, my body pleasantly sore.

Margarita opened her eyes, stretched. Her gaze slid over me—mischievous, warm, with a spark of last night's boldness.

"Good morning, gorgeous," she said in a low voice. "Want some coffee? Or do you want to take that off first... or keep it on? I like how you look in it."

I smiled, feeling the heat stir low in my belly again. We drank coffee, stealing glances at each other, full of unspoken promises. The yacht rocked gently, sunlight dancing on the waves, and the air hummed with the certainty that this little dress-up game was only the beginning.