The Uniform That Left Me Almost Naked in Front of the Street

It all started with a call from Daniela, my lifelong friend, the one who always gets me into trouble I never regret afterward. I had worked before as a promotional model at a couple of events, so when she asked if I wanted to make some money on a Saturday at a parade, I didn’t think about it too much. What she didn’t tell me, the sneaky bitch, was what kind of parade it was.

—They pay well and you just have to say hi and dance around a bit on top of a float —she promised me over the phone.

—And the clothes? —I asked, because I already knew the business and knew the less fabric, the more money.

—They’ll lend them to you there. Don’t worry about that.

“Don’t worry about that” is never a good sign coming from her.

On Saturday I arrived at the square at four, as she’d told me, made up and styled with care. I was wearing a little button-front dress, one of those easy to take off, because in this kind of work you always end up changing in a hurry in some corner or another. In my backpack I had some white sneakers and not much else. I was calm. Naive me.

Daniela greeted me with a bear hug and, before I could properly say hello, put a pair of nipple covers and a skin-colored thong in my hand.

—This is for you to wear underneath —she said, as if she were handing me the car keys.

—Under what, exactly? —I asked, already with a nervous smile settling on my face.

—Just put it on. I’ll be back with the rest.

She took about fifteen minutes. When she came back, she had a robe on, another draped over her arm, and a bag. She handed me the bag with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. I opened it and the first thing I saw were wings. Under that, a mass of white lace, a garter belt, and fishnet stockings. My eyes widened slowly, just like my mouth.

—Daniela… is this the uniform?

—Uh-huh. Pretty, right? —she replied, biting her lip to hold back laughter.

—This isn’t a uniform, this is a lingerie set with wings.

—I saw your smile, huh? Don’t act all proper —she said, and burst out laughing, which ended up making me laugh too.

It was a white bra and thong, sexy, decorated with delicate sheer panels and fine lace. The wings, garter belt, and mid-calf fishnets completed the look of a flirty little angel. Any indignation I might have faked evaporated the instant I imagined myself wearing that, and I felt a tug straight between my legs, that tingling I knew all too well and that usually spelled trouble. My nipples hardened just from imagining the thong riding up my ass in front of strangers.

—Well —I said, giving in—, more than getting changed, I’m going to undress. I’m more covered up now in the dress.

***

She let me change in the car of a friend of hers, parked a few meters away. First of all, I checked that the doors were locked and that nobody could see inside; careful, that never stops being important. I unbuttoned the top of the dress and stared at my tits for a second in the reflection of the window, my nipples already stiff and hard from sheer nerves, throbbing as if they had a life of their own. I pinched one, just to make sure, and held back a moan; I was electrified. I put on the nipple covers (the bra had its own sheer panels and I didn’t want any surprises), and over that I slipped on the white set, which up close was even prettier than it had looked.

With the dress still around my waist, I pulled on the skin-colored mini thong, the backup one, the one you wear when you’re modeling lingerie and don’t want anything showing too much. As I passed it over my pussy I noticed, with a funny kind of embarrassment, that I was already wet; the cotton stuck to my lips as soon as I adjusted it. Nice day, Renata, I thought, and laughed to myself. Then came the white lace thong, so fine it slid between my ass cheeks with a delicious caress, and finally the garter belt and stockings, one leg and then the other, stretching them carefully so they wouldn’t run. The garter elastic pressed into my lower belly, just above my pubis, and every time I moved it brushed my clit with a sweet insistence that had me biting my lip.

When I was done, I stood still for a second, looking at my knees, feeling my heart racing without asking permission. This is more than anything I’ve done before, I thought. And instead of scaring me, that idea lit a strange spark in the pit of my stomach. A mix of nerves, shame, and an excitement so raw I surprised myself by lowering my hand to my crotch, pressing the fabric with two fingers, just a little, to calm the pounding down there. The white gusset gave under the dampness and a small, translucent stain was left, which I wiped away with my thumb. Hang on, I told myself, this is only just beginning.

I tied the robe over it, adjusted the white blindfold carefully so I wouldn’t mess up my hair, put the dress and sneakers back in my backpack, and got out of the car. Daniela was waiting outside.

—Leave the backpack in the car, the owner will be with us up there —she told me.

I felt a little weird about leaving my things, but we’d always have the robe close by, so I took a deep breath and left it. In the end, I was already there.

When I came back, two guys approached, also in robes and blindfolds, but with little red devil horns on headbands.

—Got it —I said, laughing—. We’re the little angels and they’re the little devils.

Daniela introduced them to me. With the blindfold on I could barely make out their faces, which gave them a nice mysterious air. Meanwhile, the floats were starting to line up. It was almost five and the music was already booming through the square, between flags of every color and euphoric crowds.

—Look, that’s ours —Daniela pointed out.

It was a trailer with a decorated box: clouds and flames, heaven and hell. A structure of handrails at waist height to hold on to, and huge speakers. There were no walls, no curtains, nothing to cover us. I understood all at once that we were going up there, in full view of the whole street, with nothing shielding us.

My legs started to shake. And there it was again, that adrenaline climbing up my back, that nervous giggle I couldn’t control, and my pussy pounding so hard I thought Daniela would hear it.

***

Getting up wasn’t easy; the box was very high. One of the devils climbed up first, another one carried us from below and the one on top pulled us up. When the one below put his hands on my waist, I felt, without meaning to, his fingers brush the edge of my thong over the robe, and a shiver ran up the back of my neck. Once the four of us were up, the guys were the first to take off their robes. And damn, they were fit, defined, with red satin briefs that outlined thick cocks bulging at the front without any attempt at modesty, ankle boots, and their horned blindfolds. They looked good, I won’t deny it; maybe I noticed it even more because I was already primed for the situation. On one you could make out the outline of the foreskin through the fabric; on the other, the crown of the glans, pointing upward, and I had to force myself to look away.

What calmed me was the blindfold. Under the anonymity of that mask I felt capable of things I would never do with my face uncovered. That, and the fact that up on the moving trailer, nobody would be able to get too close.

Even so, I knew this was different from any other time. I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck just thinking that, in a matter of seconds, I’d be in lingerie in the middle of the street, in front of hundreds of people. The good part was that the nipple covers hid what my body was already giving away from sheer arousal; down below, though, there was no hiding it: the thong had wedged itself between the lips of my pussy and the wetness was soaking through the lace as if marking territory.

—Well, Renata —I told myself under my breath—, this is what you came for.

I untied the ribbon at my waist and let the robe fall.

It was the first time in my life I felt the air run over my whole body like that. The coolness on my thighs, on my lower back, on every inch of skin nobody normally sees. The warm sun falling over me. The wind slipping between my bare ass cheeks through the thong and hitting my wet pussy head-on. Then the whistles started, a few at first, then many. Instinctively I brought my hands up front, as if to cover myself, but it lasted only a second. Then I smiled, waved, and let out that side of me that only comes out when I know I’m being watched. I felt a drop of my own wetness sliding down the inside of my thigh and I wiped it away discreetly, laughing to myself at how turned on I was.

I still had to put on the wings, which were still in the bag. I bent down for them without bending my knees, slowly, aware of every stare fixed on me, offering them my perky ass stuffed into white lace. The thong rode even deeper between my cheeks and pressed my clit just as I arched my back. A silent gasp escaped me, and the whistles multiplied as if they’d heard it. And among the crowd, I caught sight of a couple of women whistling at me too, one of them licking her lips without the slightest shame. That was new. It had never happened to me before, and I discovered I liked that too, a lot.

I turned toward Daniela. She was wearing a white lace boyshort instead of a thong, and her tits were barely contained by a bra that had more room than it needed.

—Hey, why did I get the thong and you got the boyshorts? —I complained jokingly.

—Because there was only one —she said, giving my ass a pat—. And you look better showing off. You’ve got more ass.

The slap left my cheek burning, and she looked at my face with a knowing little smile, as if she perfectly knew what she’d just done to me.

—Come on, they’re going to think we’re a couple —I shot back, and both of us burst out laughing.

—Let them think whatever they want —she said softly in my ear, squeezing my waist a second longer than necessary—. At this point, if you ask me to grab your tits up here, I’ll grab them.

I felt my skin prickling from the nape of my neck all the way to the tips of my toes. I looked her in the eyes beneath the blindfold and didn’t know what to say back.

***

The trailer pulled out with the music blasting at full volume. Daniela explained that every so often we had to throw condoms into the crowd from a box we were carrying full.

—They’re going to think I’m tossing them so they’ll come after me —I joked.

—I think that’s kind of the point —she laughed.

The first few blocks were calm, with only a few people around, passersby we greeted from above. We passed some ladies who stared at the devils with approving faces —one even crossed herself, though she didn’t take her eyes off the red bulge of the tallest one—, and an older man walking with his son; I waved at the kid and he waved back, while the old man put on his respectable act. But I saw the look. That look is one I love: the look of an older man dying to touch and knowing he can’t, and ending up imagining everything he’d do to a woman if he were twenty years younger and had no shame.

Three blocks later we reached downtown. And downtown, on a Saturday afternoon, was packed. People strolling by stopped to watch the parade, and my heart jumped again. I bit my lip as I thought: come on, Renata, give it everything you’ve got.

And that’s what we did. Daniela and I dancing, one on each side of the trailer, throwing out our best moves. The whistles came down like rain, some for the guys, who had everything on display —the one on the left, with the shake of the dancing, already had his cock hard and it was outlined along his thigh, thick and impossible to miss—, and many for us. Then the catcalls started, getting bolder and bolder. “Angel, come down here and suck something for me,” one man shouted; “that ass is going to kill me,” another roared. One I remember clearly was “I’d line up for that row,” which, far from bothering me, only turned me on more. Nobody had ever yelled something like that at me, much less with so little clothing on. My nipples got so hard the nipple covers could barely keep up, and I felt my thong so soaked I was sure that if I took a photo down there, everything would show through.

On the other side they were shouting things at Daniela. One guy said she made seriousness look sexy, another told her to get down and dance. “Show me those tits, baby!” they begged, and she grabbed her bra as if it might give way, then at the last second wagged a finger no, laughing. Every shout was like throwing fuel on something that was already burning inside me. I’d never imagined that exposing myself like this would get me so wound up, so wet, so on edge I could almost come just from the trailer’s sway between my legs.

Because that was happening too: every bump the truck hit made me clamp my thighs against the railing, and the thong lace dug into my clit in a way that was driving me crazy. I started dancing while leaning on the railing on purpose, moving my hips against the metal, taking advantage of the engine’s vibration traveling up through my feet. Nobody could tell from below. It was my secret among thousands of eyes.

At one point Daniela called me over to her side. We were passing a building with a mirrored facade.

—Come here, vanity —she said, laughing.

When I saw our reflection, I couldn’t believe it. The two of us looked incredible, and I, in that thong and those mid-calf fishnets, looked better than I’d expected. The white thong, now almost transparent from the wetness, outlined my pussy lips with the clarity of a drawing. I bit my lip looking at myself, enjoying how good I felt in my own skin. That image finished letting me go.

Daniela pressed herself against me from behind, taking advantage of the fact that the building’s mirror doubled and multiplied us, and slid her hand around my waist, lifting it up under my tits.

—Look at you, slut —she whispered in my ear—. Look at how much you’re liking this.

I felt her tits pressing against my back, her hard nipples through the thin fabric of her bra marking two exact points between my shoulder blades. A low moan slipped out of me, swallowed by the music.

—Touch me —I asked in a whisper, without taking my eyes off myself in the mirror.

She smiled, moved her hand two fingers higher until she brushed the left breast through the bra, and pinched my nipple over the nipple cover with two fingers. My hips arched backward on pure instinct, and through her boyshorts I felt the hot heat of her pussy pressing against my ass. We were both burning up, and we still had half the city to go.

—Careful, angel —she said—, or you’re going to come up here in front of everyone.

—Don’t tempt me —I answered, laughing with a shaky voice.

From then on I danced without holding back. I leaned in, marked every movement, and watched the effect on men’s faces, especially the older ones, those whose expressions said they hadn’t seen anything like this in a long time. I loved reading their eyes, seeing how they bit their lips, how some adjusted the bulge in their pants without the slightest subtlety, how others blushed and looked away out of pure shyness. To those I blew a kiss. Feeling desired like that, by so many people at once, was a drug I had never known and already didn’t want to let go of. I imagined what they must be thinking, how many dicks would get hard that afternoon because of me, how many hands would go to their women, or to themselves, that night with my image in their heads. The idea had me right on the edge.

The farther into the city we went, the more people joined in. On one of my trips to the condom box I crossed paths with Daniela. I bent down to grab a handful and, right then, she landed a dry, hard slap on my ass that made me yelp for real.

—Look at you, already showing your ass to half the city —she said through laughter.

I stood up rubbing it, but I couldn’t hide my smile, or the trembling in my legs.

—If you loved that slap, don’t lie —she insisted, pointing at me—. Look, I even left my handprint on you.

I turned and, sure enough, there was her handprint, red and alive on my white skin. She came closer again, and under the pretext of adjusting my thong at the edge of my ass cheek, she slid two fingers under the lace, right between my ass cheeks, and stroked me from top to bottom, from the base of my ass to the faintest brush against the entrance of my wet pussy. It was a second. Nobody below noticed. I almost fell off the trailer.

—You’re soaked, dirty girl —she whispered in my ear, and brought her fingers to her mouth without the slightest shame, sucking them while keeping her eyes locked on mine.

The two of us doubled over laughing while the crowd whistled at us without knowing what we were laughing about, without knowing Daniela had just tasted me and that every part of my body was shaking as I held myself back from grabbing her by the nape and eating her right there, in front of everyone.

***

The route ended around seven, in a little square, just as the sun was starting to hide. I had spent nearly two hours up there in lingerie, putting myself on display before an entire city and, against everything I would have imagined about myself that morning, happier than I’d been in ages, and so horny my whole skin itched. In the final stretch, as the trailer slowed and the last whistles faded out, I leaned back against the railing, closed my eyes for a second, clamped my thighs tight, and let the engine’s final vibration finish what three hours of wet lace, stares, dirty comments, and Daniela’s fingers had started. The climax climbed my spine like a jolt, brief and silent, hidden in a wide smile and in the gesture of waving at the last curious onlookers. Nobody noticed. Nobody except Daniela, who looked at me from the far end of the trailer and winked, her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

They told us to hold on tight, because from there we were heading out on the boulevard straight to another place, where the night was only just beginning.

But what happened after we got off the trailer is another story, and I think I’ll have to tell that one slowly, without a blindfold to protect me completely. For today I’ll keep the image of my reflection in those mirrors, the taste of my own fingers that I later licked clean in the car on the way back, and the certainty that, underneath any sensible dress, lives a happy slut who loves being looked at.