Yesterday after being filled three times in a row without a condom by my fuckbuddy's 19cm dick in the zoo toilet, my pussy was still a bit swollen until morning. Today I had originally planned the Grand Palace, but I changed my mind at the last minute—it's too hot and crowded during the day, so I just slept until afternoon and switched straight to the evening plan.
I put on a white spaghetti-strap deep-V crop top that squeezed my tits almost to the point of spilling out; around my waist was only a white lace garter belt, the thin straps hugging my waist and ass; below were super-short black-and-white trimmed hot pants, the edges sitting right above my ass crease; on my legs were white lace thigh-high stockings, the tops squeezing out a ring of soft flesh. I casually threw on a black-and-gray patchwork jacket, stuffing my phone and condoms into the jacket pockets.
In the evening we rode a motorcycle (ex-boyfriend driving, fuckbuddy in the back hugging me), first grabbing something to eat, then wandering around the night market and walking street. Neon lights, taxis, and motorcycle engines blended together, the air thick with grilled seafood and smoke. I walked in the middle, my fuckbuddy's hand resting on my waist the whole time, his fingers occasionally slipping through the gaps in the garter belt to press against my pussy through the hot pants fabric. The shorts were so short and tight that he could feel the small wet patch already forming.
When we reached a darker alley, I couldn't hold back anymore.