The Erotica of Al X
(MF Mdom voy mast panty)
|
|
Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material.
It is NOT suitable for minors.
If you are a minor, LEAVE NOW as it is illegal for you to be here.
If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material
in your community, LEAVE NOW.
If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, LEAVE NOW.
This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to
events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental.
These stories are pure fiction and do not promote or condone the
activities described herein, especially when it comes to unsafe
sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.
|
Summary: A submissive woman and a dominating man with a panty fetish. They meet in a coffee shop.
|
|
"Look But Don't Touch"
by Al X
I 'met' Mary online, when I answered her ad on Craig's List. She revealed her secret desires for submission and humiliation and pain. I revealed my desire to dominate, as well as my fetish for women's panties. I knew she wasn't ready for us to actually 'meet' for a spanking session, but I asked her if she would be willing to go out some time and flash her panties to me. We'd be out in public, so it would be totally safe for her, and we wouldn't have to touch or even talk. That was the rule - I'd be able to look but not touch.
At first she balked at the idea. "I thought this was about me getting spanked," she wrote.
"This isn't all about you," I replied. "If you are going to be submissive to me, then you must submit to my desires. And I demand to see your panties."
She thought about it for a few days, then sent an e-mail with this subject: "Our Meeting - Thursday after work?"
My heart sped up. Reading it confirmed my hopes. She lives about 45 minutes from me, but she had to visit my town to do some shopping. She agreed to meet me in a coffee shop and, if she felt comfortable, she would spread her legs and show me her panty. "Don't expect too much," she wrote, "because I'm not sure I can really go through with it. I may come in, get cold feet, and head right back out the door." The rest of her e-mail detailed her feelings. Despite her doubts and concerns, she was excited at the prospect of turning on a complete stranger. It sounded naughty, a little bit dirty. And she would be submitting to me. "Besides," she added, "this is a good way to see if I can really go through with something like this. I can get my feet wet - and my pussy, too!"
Once I received her agreement, I made the arrangements: we would meet at 5:30 - at a local Starbucks. I would get there first, pay for her favorite drink, then sit and wait for her. And to ensure that she knew I was in control, I made a simple demand. "Before our meeting, buy a new red thong, something see-through. I will see you and your pussy on Thursday, Mary."
Two days later, I arrived at the shop at 5:15. I ordered my coffee and paid in advance for another drink ("This is for a woman named Mary," I told the barista, a chubby high school girl). Fortunately the place was relatively empty; only two other tables were occupied. A pair of skinny college girls listened to their I-Pods as they studied; one wore tight sweat pants with a visible panty line. Up front an old man with a beard read the NY Times. I sat in the back section, which was full of empty tables. We would have the privacy we needed.
I sat down with a coffee and a magazine. And waited. Old jazz tunes played on the speakers above me, and I pretended to read, but my mind was too preoccupied. And I was worried Mary wouldn't show. But I was also trying to imagine what she would look like. She had given me a description, but those were just statistics, text in an e-mail. I couldn't wait to see her in the flesh.
Ten minutes later a woman matching Mary's description entered. She looked nervous, unsure if she should stay. She looked around the room and eyed me carefully. She had a general description of me, but I had given her a secret signal - on my table I had arranged two coffee stirrers into a cross. She smiled and seemed to relax; I must have passed her test. I must have looked "normal" enough for her. When she disappeared behind a wall to order her drink, I sat up straight and felt my cock begin to stir. I couldn't believe this was happening.
A few minutes later Mary walked back into view. How to describe her? She had a pretty face, pale skin, with shoulder length brown hair, tied in bun. She was on the taller side, full figured with full breasts. She wasn't one of those skinny college girls. She had a nervous smile, but she seemed like someone with a happy personality, the kind of woman who was always smiling. She wore a white blouse that just reached her short green skirt; as she walked the shirt shifted to expose her belly and what looked like a belly ring. When she stopped to fix her drink, she turned sideways. She had a shapely ass. She looked great. And she was here for me!
When she reached the table in front of me, she joked, "Is anyone sitting here?"
I could have laughed and joked with her, but I didn't. We may have been role-playing, but we weren't playing a game. And it wasn't up to her to decide the tone of our encounter. I was in charge.
"Sit," I ordered, in a soft but firm tone, and pointed to the chair.
She stopped smiling, and took her seat. She sat with her back to me, in a chair with an open back. As she sat her skirt lowered and her green shirt rose up, exposing her lower back. She reached behind her. Now, most women reach behind themselves to pull their shirt down, to hide anything exposed, but Mary did the opposite - she reach into her skirt and tugged her underwear up and out, taking the time to ensure that an inch of the red fabric was in view.
No one in the store had a clue what she was doing. Only I did. And it was a great sight. Mary was wearing a V string thong, red nylon, and the top of it was out in plain view for me to see.
"Lean forward," I whispered, and she did, bettering my view.
She turned her head and showed an expression that seemed to ask if I was pleased. I nodded, and felt my erection growing. She reached behind herself and scratched her lower back, then ran her fingers along smooth fabric. She even ran her finger under the thong's string top, stretching it like a rubber band. She was putting on a show for me, her captivated audience. I couldn't keep my eyes off on this sexy sight.
"Very good, Mary," I told her. "But now I want to see the front. Change seats."
She took a deep breath, then stood up. She moved to a different seat, this time two tables away from me, and facing me, with the college girls behind her. She sat down very ladylike, holding her skirt to make sure her legs revealed nothing. The tease! She wiped her mouth with the napkin, and waited.
I held my hand out, with two fingers extended, the fingers clearly representing her legs. I spread the fingers and raised my eyebrows. It was a silent order.
At first she looked like she couldn't do it, but then slowly her legs began to part. She kept staring into my eyes, studying my reaction. I glanced into her eyes, then down below the table and between her legs.
Sensing that my view might be blocked, she used her left leg to push aside the chair that was in front of her, on the other side of her table. She spread her legs wide to give me a mesmerizing view of the panties that seemed to be glowing between her legs. The red panty barely covered her sex, and I detected a dark pubic patch through the see-through fabric. It was an excellent choice!
She seemed to delight in teasing me; she even reached under the table and lifted her skirt a bit. I made sure no one was looking and rubbed myself through my pants. I was fully hard now, and Mary knew it. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was looking, then reached under her skirt and rubbed herself over the thong. I rubbed myself harder, feeling my cock pressing against my jeans. She was so sexy sitting there, her legs spread, rubbing the center of her panties with two fingers, fingering her slit through the fabric.
I stood and covered my crotch with magazine, then walked to her table. I pulled a chair next to her and sat down, moving the magazine aside so she could see the bulge she was responsible for. Our backs were to the other people in the shop, so we had complete privacy.
"How does it feel to get a stranger's cock hard, my little slut?"
She didn't answer. She was motionless now, her hand still between her legs. She turned her head to face the back wall.
"Look at me," I ordered. When she turned to face me, I gave another command: "Touch yourself. Now."
I glanced down and watched her move her hand. My view was blocked but I knew she had poked her fingers under the panty band.
"Get yourself wet."
She bit her lower lip. Her eyes blinked a few times.
I kept my voice low, and my eyes fixed on hers. "Finger your pussy, Mary."
Her hand moved faster.
"Deeper, Mary. Dig your fingers deep into your cunt."
Her hand bent further at the wrist. I looked down and had a better view now, the thong pushed aside to reveal some pussy. She was getting hotter, she was probably ready to cum, but I wouldn't allow that. I knew our rule had been that I'd be able to look but not touch, but I reached over and grabbed her arm just below the elbow. "Stop, now. Enough."
Reluctantly, she stopped fingering her pussy.
"Get your hand out of your cunt."
I released her arm. She withdrew her wet fingers from her crotch - they were glistening with pussy dew. I handed her a napkin and she wiped her fingers carefully, then crumpled up the napkin and placed it on the table.
"Look at yourself, Mary. Your legs are spread, you've exposed your cunt to a total stranger, you've fingered yourself in public. There's a word for women like you. Do you know what it is?"
"A slut?"
"No, Mary, a slut is a woman who does all that for free. But you did that for the coffee I bought you. What do you call a woman who gets paid to do that?"
"A whore."
"Is that what you are, Mary? A whore? A cheap whore who'll give her cunt away for a couple of dollars?"
She didn't answer.
"Go home, Mary," I said, declaring our first encounter officially over. Slowly she stood up. Without looking at me she reached for her coffee, then for the napkin. "Leave it," I told her. I saw the mixture of emotions on her face - confusion, guilt, shame - and watched as she quickly walked away. She passed the college girls, the counter and headed for the front door. And then she was gone.
My cock was aching now. I needed relief. I picked up the napkin and headed into the men's room. I made sure the door was locked, then pushed down my jeans. My underwear had a wet spot, and I slid them down. I wrapped my left hand around my cock, and placed the napkin to my nose. There was damp spot on it, and I inhaled deeply. As I started to pump myself, I closed my eyes and thought of Mary, my sweet slut Mary. I imagined her without the skirt, seeing her ass in a sexy thong. I imagined myself on my knees, before her as she sat in a chair with her legs spread. I imagined pressing my face into her crotch, feeling her thighs around my face, pressing my nose against her red panty, letting my tongue lick her through the satin fabric. And as I imagined tasting her as she came in her panty, my own orgasm came upon me, filling my hand with hot globs of jism.
When I settled down, I wiped myself with the napkin. I pulled up my pants, washed my hands and left the rest room. More people had entered the coffee shop, but Mary was gone. Our first encounter was over. We had taken the first step in our erotic relationship. Now I wondered what lie ahead for us. I headed outside to my car, to drive home and wait for her e-mail.
THE END
Written during October, 2006 / Revised December 11, 2006
The author welcomes your comments and suggestions for future stories.
|