They'd come back here for their honeymoon. Three years ago, they had met and got together while staying at this hotel and here they were again, celebrating their marriage. She was everything he had always dreamed of. Although a businesswoman and strongly feminist, she loved the style of the late fifties and early sixties. He had grown up near a sexy grandma, whose idea of a night out in the late nineties was still to dress up in all the consciously sexy apparel of that era, so his wife ticked all those boxes. Three years ago, at the end of two different conferences held at the hotel, they'd met in the bar and she had taken him to bed. Now, the morning after their honeymoon began, just as she had three years ago, she'd woken before him, put on her suspenders and stockings and then a ravishing pair of sheer silky nylon knickers, that felt so lovely brushing her pussy. They were prettily embroidered and lavishly lacy over her suspenders. They were so sheer that there was no attempt to hide her beautiful pussy under their silkiness. Her full slip, flared and lacy, exactly matched her French knickers, but had three delicious tiered layers. It was deliciously silky and so sheer that she could still see her pussy through three layers of heavenly nylon when she had allowed the lace at its hem to cascade down over her, whispering against her stockings. She had shuddered at the sexual charge given her my the swish of the glistening silky nylon and lace. She wore no bra and the lace at her breasts and lower on her sensational nylon slip could be seen through the lovely silky shiny chiffon dress she put on. When she had gently woken him, it was as though his erotic dream just carried on. This wonderful girl, so pretty and so sexily perfumed pulled back the covers and, fully dressed, literally mounted him, lowering her lace-embellished cunt onto his erect cock. Her rhythmic motion caused the lace and nylon of her slip and knickers and the chiffon of the full-circle skirt to set up a feeling so sensuous that they both gasped. By now, her breast was out of her dress and lacy slip and its long erect nipple was between his lips, as she eased off and then back onto his cock, again and again. 'Oh God! Yes, please!' she moaned as he moved to the other nipple and his exploring finger found the little place at the top of her clitty. 'Oh, I love your cunt on my cock!' he whispered hoarsely. 'Oh, and you love the silkiness and sheerness and devastating prettiness of my nylon petticoat, and fucking a fully dressed woman!' she half-laughed, half-coughed as their fucking became more urgent. His hand explored the lace edge of her slip and rubbed it against her silky stocking-top. Her tongue was deep in his mouth now and she had begun the long, long, repeated, 'Aaah!' of her orgasm as he released spurt after spurt of semen with a physical pleasure that almost caused him to faint, into this lovely, silky, lacy, petticoated, beautifully feminine woman.