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“Tell me why you like them, Chad. I want to know.” I continued to stroke his cock, coaxing out little spasms of pleasure.
“I like the way they feel against my skin, the way the material is so cool and slippery. It’s not rough and boring like cotton, and it looks so…”
“Pretty?”
“Yes…pretty,” he answered, breathless.
Now he was blushing fire-engine red. From his response, I could tell that wearing panties involved more than appreciating the tactile sensation of fabric. There was another dream lurking within him. One I wanted to make come true. Why? Because I love him, and bringing him joy brings me joy, too.
“I can help you.”
“With what?”
“To be pretty.” I leaned down once more, taking another leisurely lick of the front of his panties. The head of his cock was now peeking out of the top of the waistband, and I fluttered the tip of my tongue against the underside of it.
“Oh, yes,” he hissed, balling some of the stray laundry in his fists.
I cupped Chad’s sac through the satin, stroking my thumb along his most sensitive spots, knowing that the sensations would be amplified by the fabric commanding his erotic attention. I nudged down the waistband of the panties and wrapped my fingers around his cock, jerking him ever so slowly.
“I want to dress you up,” I confessed, surrendering my secrets the moment the pictures formed in my mind. “Buy you pretty lingerie, and make love to you while you’re dressed head-to-toe like a beautiful lady. My beautiful lady.”
Chad’s face was a vision of helpless ecstasy. He’d gotten lost in the scene I’d painted with my words. I could tell that he was fervently hoping I wasn’t teasing. He raised his hips, wishing and reaching with every fiber of his being for the fulfillment of his long-held fantasies.
I grabbed the sides of his panties and pulled them down just enough to free his hard cock. Holding his shaft steady, I swooped down to take the entire length of him in my mouth. Chad groaned, grabbing my hair as I deep-throated him. I held him in place for a few seconds, before pulling away.
“Kiss me, baby,” he murmured in a needy whisper as he grabbed me and took me into his arms. With his cock pressed between our writhing bodies, I lowered my lips to his. Chad kissed me wildly, as if he was on the verge of losing complete control. I wasn’t far behind him, so I reached down to take hold of his dick and position it at the entrance of my pussy. One day I would take the time to drape him in silks and satins, but not today. My hunger for him had grown too strong to ignore; I needed to feel him inside me.
Breaking our lip-lock, I sat up and then lowered myself onto his shaft, sighing loudly as he stretched and filled me. Once I’d hit bottom, I snugged my knees up against his hips—and the panties that were still banded around his thighs. The sensation of the crumpled satin sparked my sexual imagination again, and my mind began to conjure up scenarios for the two of us.
“You’ll let me, won’t you? You’ll let me make you my pretty girl?” This time I was the one who was begging. I cupped Chad’s face with my hand, running my thumb across his quivering bottom lip that I could already imagine slicked with ruby-red. I wanted to kiss him with my own gloss-covered lips, and the strength of that desire was such a sexy surprise. What had started out as Chad’s secret kink had woven itself into my libido. His passion had become my own, my lust irrevocably entwined with his.
“Yes,” he answered, pumping his hips upward and making his dick hit the sweetest spots inside me. I rocked my body forward to snatch another moment of pure pleasure. Despite his frilly fantasies, I was glad he was still a man—in that he had a hard cock to satisfy me. Rhythmically riding his shaft, I reached back between Chad’s thighs to stroke him through the satin—fingering his constricted sac and wriggling my fingers even lower to tease the sensitive patch of flesh above his asshole. Massaging him there caused Chad to release a feral growl, and he bucked upward, driving his dick in me to the hilt and leaving me momentarily breathless.
Chad met my downward thrusts with forceful movements of his own, crushing my clit against the base of his cock every time we connected. Our frenzied movements had settled into a hard and fast rhythm that was rapidly taking us higher and higher. My husband took hold of my hips, in order to drive into me more intensely. I lost some of my control as I quivered atop him. Leaning back, I grabbed the sides of his panties to hold myself steady. I closed my eyes as I recalled how he looked, standing in front of me in those blue undies. Keeping that picture in my mind’s eye, I savored the sensation of Chad’s cock slamming up into me and sparking my climax. As I cried out, I yanked at the satin, pulling it more tightly against Chad’s body and making him groan as he came inside me.
I collapsed atop him, knowing that the panties were a damp, tangled mess, which only meant he’d need more—and I knew just where to get them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TWIST ME, TAUNT ME, TURN ME ON —
FETISHES
“Wow, three pairs of shoes! Someone had a fetish.”
—MARGE SIMPSON
You’d be hard pressed to find a fetish I don’t have an affinity for. In fact, I probably have a fetish for being hard pressed. I love the standard choices on the menu—high heels, stockings, feathers, tickling, boots, lace, leather, nylons, fishnets, piercing, lipstick, ponytails… And yes, I know all about your more unusual fetishes—shrimping, sploshing, plushies, looners.
Fetishes can definitely have a place in your world. Whether you’re into animate fetishes (fingers, feet, breasts, legs…) or inanimate (all those lovely, lovely items you can dress up in or rub up against), fetishes are a simple way to broaden your kinky horizon.
Many fetishes are free (it costs nothing to lust after a beautiful pair of feet) or fairly inexpensive. Have a thing for stockings? Nylons are easy to buy—even at a grocery store. And how sexy is that? You and your partner knowing that those stockings aren’t for work, they’re for play.
My story “Not for Sale” features two stocking-fetishists:
“Closer,” he said, “I want to touch the merchandise.”
Her feet moved forward without any instruction from her brain. She felt hypnotized. When she had gotten close enough, he stroked his hands up her nylon-clad legs, and then palmed the flesh of her thighs where the stockings ended, touching bare skin with bare skin. His hands were warm and big. She wanted him to place his entire palm over her pussy, to let her rest her snatch against him. She wanted him to part her pussy lips and drag the tips of his fingers between them, touching, just barely touching, her clit.
