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From: jjj7676@gmail.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Very Convincing (mc?, perving out, panties, bisexual sluts)
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Date: Mon, 29 Jan 2007 23:10:03 -0500
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Very Convincing
by Tyrannosaurus Sex
jjj7676@gmail.com

------

Thanks very much to everyone who wrote for all the positive responses 
I received for my last story, "Fun." Believe me, nothing makes me (or 
any of the authors here, I'm sure) happier than getting even a short 
note saying you've enjoyed a piece of work. I can't say it enough: 
Thanks! Your feedback is always welcome.

This is a work of fiction. It is prurient in nature. You shouldn't 
read it if you're not old enough.

------

"No way!"

Lexa had to put her drink down, she was laughing so hard. "No way!" 
she said again. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really. Right into his mouth. I was so trashed. But that 
was it for me. It was too much. He got off, and I bounced."

"At least you didn't have to ask to use the bathroom," she ribbed. 
"And you didn't see him again?"

"No way." I shook my head firmly and took a long sip of my own drink. 
"If he hadn't spent so much money on those shoes, and if I hadn't been 
so drunk and stoned, I could not have done it. I don't mind a little 
kink, but I'm not that kinky."

"But you kept the shoes," Lexa murmured, smirking.

I grinned. "Damn straight! And I never felt guilty about it."

We whooped, and a few eyes turned toward our table in the back corner 
of the bar. Lexa raised her glass. "Cheers!"

Our glasses clinked, and we sipped from them, both still shaking a 
little with laughter. She took a deep breath and gazed steadily into 
my eyes.

"I'm not sure, though..." she said. She smiled mysteriously.

"What?" I cocked my head. She waved dismissively, but I wasn't having 
it. "Not sure about what?"

Lexa shrugged. "That you're not that kinky." She stirred her drink 
absently.

Well. Was she hitting on me? No, that didn't feel right. I'd only 
known Lexa since Brian's office holiday party a month before, but I 
wasn't getting that vibe off of her.

Probably she was just in the mood for some juicy girl talk. I knew the 
feeling: After months in the city with only Brian for regular company, 
I was dying for some female companionship. Lexa was in the same boat, 
except that she hadn't been here for quite as long and didn't even 
have a husband to hang out with. It had been a mutual thrill when we'd 
hit it off at the party, and I was so glad we'd actually followed 
through on our promises to get together.

So I hated to disappoint her, but seriously, that one was the only 
kinky story I had, and I had to say so.

But Lexa just shook her head. "Braeden, maybe that's the only kinky 
thing you've done," she said, "but I bet you're a lot kinkier than you 
know."

I raised my eyebrows. "I think you'd lose that bet," I said, waving 
the waitress over to order us another round. When she was gone, I 
continued: "I prefer missionary, I don't let Brian play with my ass in 
bed, and I've never even experimented with another girl, not even in 
college." Now it was my turn to smirk. "I am the definition of 
vanilla."

"And Brian's cool with all of that?" Lexa asked.

I nodded, and at the thought of my still-new husband--we'd only been 
married the summer before--I couldn't help but smile. "He's so great."

"He's a super sweetheart," she agreed, grinning back. I couldn't 
suppress the flash of jealousy that ran through me. Lexa and Brian 
worked in the same department, and she probably knew him as well as 
anyone else there--which was one more reason I was glad we were 
getting to be friends. I was no slouch, not by any means, but Lexa was 
hottt with three t's. Better if she felt some kind of loyalty to me.

I changed the subject. "What made you think I was so kinky?"

She smiled slyly. "I still think you are. And I know from kinky."

"Oh, really?" This was kind of exciting. "Well, do tell. After all, 
you've heard my story."

"Well," Lexa said, "I have more than one story. Lots more."

"Well, tell me a good one."

She knitted her brow slightly, and then looked satisfied. "OK. One 
time," she began, "one time I kind of gave this guy a really serious 
panty fetish."

"What?" My confusion must have been scrawled across my face. "You 
can't just give someone a fetish." She just looked at me, eyes wide 
and reasonable. "Can you?"

"Can't you?" Lexa asked. "Most people get fetishes when they're young, 
because of something that happens to them. It's easier then, because 
their minds are more flexible. But there's nothing that actually 
prevents it from happening to older people."

"I'd just never heard of that," I said, still skeptical. "But how 
would you even do such a thing?"

The waitress came back with our drinks and set them down, and then 
swayed away. She was typical of the girls working in bars all over the 
city--young, cute, a tattoo in the small of her back.

Lexa leaned in closer. "I'm very convincing when I want to be. The guy 
was really good-looking, pretty used to getting laid whenever he 
wanted, I think. So I kind of used that against him. We'd go out and, 
even after our first date, we'd end up making out for hours. Shirts 
off, mouths all over each other--but no touching below the waist. None 
at all.

"By three dates in, he was getting pretty desperate. I mean, clearly I 
was into him, and he didn't want all of his hard work to go to waste. 
And we had great chemistry.

"So on our fourth date, we went back to my place, and it was more of 
the same. But then I pulled him back into my bedroom." She winked 
conspiratorially. "I slid my jeans off so I was just in my panties.

"And of course he tried to climb on top of me, but I gently pushed him 
away, and wouldn't let him take his pants off, and told him to kiss my 
feet." She waggled her fingers, and I could imagine her stretched out 
on her back, wiggling her toes in front of this poor guy's face.

"What if he'd tried to--what if he'd just...?" I said, at a loss for 
words. Lexa was in shape, but she wasn't a big girl.

"Oh," she said, "like I said, I can be very convincing when I want to 
be. And besides, he loved it. He got down there and started working 
his lips all over--first, little kisses. He kept trying to work his 
way up my calf and legs, but I kept pushing his head back down. Pretty 
soon he was sucking on my toes and just, like, slurping my feet." She 
looked me in the eye. "Have you ever had anyone just slurping your 
feet?" I shook my head. "Well, it's awesome," she said.

I couldn't think what to say, but I was definitely starting to get wet 
in my own jeans.

"Anyway," Lexa said, "that's the first step. I got him into an unusual 
place sexually--mentally speaking, I mean. Totally made him more 
pliable.

"By that time, he was craving my feet and not even trying to get back 
up my legs, so then I started motioning for him to work up a little 
higher. Gradually I got him up to my panties--which, of course, at 
this point were pretty fucking wet, seeing as I'd been totally 
fingering myself. So by the time he got to my thighs, all he was 
smelling was pussy, pussy, pussy."

The bar was loud, but at this point, Lexa was leaning in so close that 
her voice was barely a murmur.

"Smell is a powerful sense," she said. "Especially sexually. It keys 
into certain parts of the brain that totally bypass the rational 
faculties. I wouldn't let him use his fingers or his tongue. I just 
kept him there, face just an inch from my panties, and ordered him to 
inhale, told him to smell and smell and smell. And the whole time, I 
could watch him shifting so uncomfortably. His dick was so fucking 
hard."

I gulped my drink. "H-how did you know?" I whispered. "I mean, if he 
had his pants o--"

She grinned, and dipped a finger in her drink, and then licked it. 
"Because I finally let him up and told him to get his pants off. He 
tore those fuckers off and his underwear too, and it was like, boing!"

I took another gulp of my drink.

"So then I peeled my wet undies off, and I brought them up to my own 
face, and I took a nice, long whiff," Lexa said. Her eyes were bright. 
"That was important--my doing it gave him permission to do it himself. 
Plus," she giggled, "I totally love the smell of pussy."

Oh, God. I was a little drunker than I thought. I'd thought my story 
was bad, but the way Lexa was telling this one...oh, God. I was going 
to go home and fuck my husband when we were done, and maybe sneak in a 
good, long fingering too.

"I made him kneel on the bed," she continued, "and told him to jerk 
off slowly but not to come until I said so. I gave him the panties, 
and I made him smell them and suck on them, and rub them on his cock 
and all over, down on his balls and in his taint and ass, and then 
suck and smell on them again, and I kept telling him to stop when I 
thought he was getting too close, and finally, I let him spray all 
over the panties."

She was whispering fiercely by that last part, and I felt like I could 
have almost come myself, all over my own panties, if she'd just gone 
on. Oh, how fucking crazy...

"But that didn't give him a panty fetish..." I said hesitantly.

"Not that time," Lexa agreed. "But by twelve or so dates later, he had 
one. I didn't even have to make out with him. We'd get back to my 
bedroom, and I'd lay out all my dirty panties from the week before, 
and he'd just strip naked and rub his face all over them, and jerk off 
until he blew his load. I mean, it wasn't that long before he was 
wearing a pair himself while he did it."

"Oh, my God," I said.

"I know." She looked positively pleased with herself. "Pretty soon he 
was stealing them from me, and then I called him on it and told him he 
was too big of a perv and that we needed to cool it for a while."

"What? Why?"

"To see if it had worked," she said. "And it had. I went to his place 
about a week and a half later, and he had racked up a ton of credit 
card debt buying used panties online."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"He told me." She shrugged. "I promised to give him the panties I was 
wearing if he admitted how freaky his addiction had gotten--and I had 
just been working out for an hour and a half at the gym, so, like, he 
wanted those pretty badly," Lexa said, laughing. "He told me 
everything while he jerked off. That was the last time I saw him."

This was nuts! "But you never even fucked him?" I said.

She shook her head.

"Then why? Why would you do that?"

Another shrug. "It was fun. Wouldn't you think it was fun, fucking up 
somebody's sexuality at a completely deep and permanent level?" She 
pressed her smug smile into a half-kiss.

The way she said that--I just about shook with arousal. But...I didn't 
answer her. Instead I said, "What happened to him? Is he just like 
that forever?"

She waved a hand, nodding. "He totally went into debt, and he 
eventually got arrested for stealing panties out of the girls' dorm at 
the local college. That's what his sister told me, anyway. But that 
was awhile ago. I don't know what's come of it." Lexa licked her lips. 
"You think that's terrible--or you think you should think it's 
terrible--but it turns you on to think of it, doesn't it? Some 
perfectly innocent guy, just out to get laid, turned into a total 
pervert?"

I nodded slowly. "It's...nasty. I just can't believe it. And I still 
don't get why you'd do it."

"Oh, it's believable enough," she said. "I just brought out some 
tendencies that were lying dormant inside of him. And like I said, I 
did it for the fun of it...and, I guess, because I wanted to get into 
his sister's pants."

If I hadn't finished my drink a second before, I'd have spit it out. 
"What?"

"Well, yeah," Lexa said. "C'mon, Braeden. I told you I loved the smell 
of pussy. Not just my own!" She giggled and signaled to the waitress 
to bring another round.

"I totally wanted this chick," she went on, "but there was no way. She 
was, like, a super goodie-goodie. I mean, you think you're not kinky--
this girl was married at nineteen to her high school sweetheart, and, 
like, had never even sucked her husband's dick."

"She was married?" I said quietly.

"Very," Lexa said. "And if I wanted to perv her out, I had to find 
some way to get her talking about sex. See, it's easier with guys--you 
just have to get them in the right state of mind, and that's usually 
no problem. But with girls, you need an excuse. Once I started talking 
about why her brother had gotten arrested, though, I knew we could 
move on to other sex talk and eventually she'd be creaming herself, 
and totally receptive."

My eyes were bulging at this point.

"So pretty soon we were talking about fetishes and the crazy sex 
people will get into, and she was squirming like crazy. I was telling 
her about facials and rimjobs, and then I started telling her about 
this crazy porn I'd seen online, with these three chicks on top of 
each other--the one in the middle was fucking the one on the bottom's 
pussy with a strap-on and getting fucked in the ass with a strap-on by 
the one on top.

"And this girl--it was so cute, because she totally didn't want to 
come out and say it--but she was like, 'I can't even imagine what that 
would look like.' And very innocently I said, 'Well, we could go look 
at it on your computer....'"

"She was so worried about what her husband would say if he found out, 
but I showed her how to clear her history file. And we watched the 
video, and then we watched another, and then one more...and then I 
told her I had to go, and I just, like, took off."

"You left?" I said. I was kind of relieved. Giving some random guy a 
panty fetish was one thing; fucking up someone's marriage was 
different. But I should have known better.

"Of course!" Lexa said. The waitress returned with our drinks, and 
Lexa paid her. "Hey, what's your name?" she asked the girl.

"Becca," the waitress said, smiling.

"Great. Thanks, Becca." Lexa tipped her and the girl wandered off. She 
turned back to me. "I had to leave. An Internet porn addiction is easy 
to start in the right person, but you have to let it grow. There was 
no way this chick was going to do anything with me right then and 
there. But she totally spent the rest of the day masturbating to Web 
porn."

"She did?" I said.

"Oh, yeah," Lexa answered. "She told me so, later. But I had to be 
careful to pick the right video to start with. Lesbo porn was best, 
because it made her more and more curious--she just kept wondering 
what it would be like to kiss another girl, to feel her boobs, to suck 
her pussy."

I was starting to wonder too, I had to admit. My jeans felt so fucking 
tight, and I had a bad feeling that if I stood up, there would be a 
visible dark spot on my ass from where all the moisture had seeped in.

"So the next time I came by, it was just, you know, to hang out and 
talk." Lexa smiled impishly. "And finally I asked her, very secretive-
like, if she'd watched any more videos.

"And of course she totally had. So we went back to the computer room, 
giggling like we were in school again, and she showed me what she'd 
found. And I showed her some stuff, too, and we looked at porn for 
almost an hour. And I veeeery surreptitiously slipped my hand into my 
lap and was rubbing myself off--like I didn't want her to notice, but 
of course I did! And she did. And she started doing the same, so that 
we were both masturbating and pretending not to notice, even when one 
of us would totally be biting her lip and coming in her pants."

Ohmigod.

"I got kind of greedy. I would have moved more slowly, but I wanted to 
just get naked with this girl so fast!" Lexa smiled and shook her head 
ruefully. "And she was totally up for it. So I started stopping by 
every day, and pretty soon we were dispensing with the small talk and 
just heading straight back to the computer room. And after a week or 
so--it was so wild!--we would both be sitting there with our pants 
unbuttoned, fingering ourselves like crazy, looking at really trashy 
lesbian porn but not doing anything! Because I wanted her to make the 
first move.

"But it was taking forever, so finally we were watching these two 
chicks making out and fingering each other, and I just said, 'Oh, that 
looks soooo gooood....'

"And she said, 'We could just take our clothes off, just for fun.' So 
we got naked. And then I said, 'We could just smell each other a 
little, no touching.' Remember how important I said smell was? So she 
got down on her knees and I spread my legs and she just inhaled my 
scent.

"And I very gently put my hand on the back of her head, and just gave 
her the littlest push. She was resistant for a minute or two, kept 
mumbling that it was wrong in between sniffs, but then I said, 'Nasty 
lesbian wives'--which was one of the sites we'd been looking at--and 
she just pushed her face right in there and started sucking."

Lexa stopped and looked at me. I was breathing quickly, shallowly.

"Wh-what happened to her?" I asked.

"From that point on, she was just sliding deeper and deeper into the 
pits of depravity," Lexa said. "Total sex toy, basically. Whatever I 
wanted. She started dressing trashy, and we would go out dancing. I 
loved to make her pick up girls and guys, and she loved how it turned 
me on to watch her fuck some random dude in a hotel room with her 
wedding ring on." She chuckled and put her right hand on top of my 
left. "She was such a perv by the time we were done. I even got her to 
mail a pair of her wet panties to her brother in jail."

I gasped. "But didn't her husband notice anything?" I said.

"Braeden." She clucked her tongue. "He was way too busy with his own 
new addiction to, you know, picking up guys in adult bookstores."

"What?" I said. "You're nuts."

"It's true, but I'm not going to tell you about it. The point is, he 
was pretty young, and I'm pretty sure he found a sugar daddy, since I 
don't think they let him keep his job as a minister. At least, I 
imagine the diocese took the JPEGs and the very vivid description of 
his activities as a resignation letter."

"So then what happened to her?" I asked.

"Well, she loved porn so much at that point, it seemed pretty obvious 
that she should move to Southern California and start thinking about 
it as a real career."

"So did she?" I said.

"I'm not sure," Lexa said. "I mean, I know she moved there because I 
suggested it to her, but I don't know how her career's going. It all 
happened just before I moved out here, and I don't keep in touch. 
Isn't it so much nastier to fuck up somebody's life and then drop them 
like a used Kleenex?"

My stomach felt funny. I couldn't even speak. Lexa flagged Becca, the 
waitress, over. Becca leaned down while Lexa whispered in her ear, and 
then smiled, looked at me closely, nodded, and walked away.

Everything she'd told me swirled around in my head. I was turned on, 
but...

"You're so full of shit, Lex," I said. "That is some crazy shit, but 
it's a bunch of bull."

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Really," I said, nodding. "You did not just give some guy a panty 
fetish just so you could turn his married sister into a porn-star 
wannabe sex toy. And you didn't turn her husband gay." I gave her a 
look, daring her to stick to her story.

"I told you," she said. "I can be very convincing when I want to be. 
It's just a matter of getting somebody into the right state and then 
twisting their thoughts in a perverted direction, and then giving them 
something, you know, to make it stick."

"Like the smell of your pussy," I said. I smirked.

"Not just my pussy," she said. The bathroom door on the opposite wall 
swung open and Becca strolled out and over to our table. Her hand was 
clenched. Her face red but smiling, she dropped whatever she was 
holding onto my lap and walked off quickly. I picked it up to see what 
it was.

A pair of wet panties. Becca's panties. The intense horniness I'd 
managed to contain for a couple of minutes swelled up and, glancing to 
see if anyone was watching, driven by a need that suddenly felt like a 
gaping void inside of me, I mashed them up against my face and inhaled 
their scent.

Oh, God.

Embarrassed, I dropped my hand and the panties back into my lap. I'd 
thought before that I was as wet as I could get, but now I was twice 
that. The urge to go finger myself in the restroom was incredible.

"What are you doing to me?" I whispered to Lexa. My voice shook with 
fear--and lust.

"Perving you out," she said, smiling. "You're going home with Becca 
after her shift's over, and I think you're going to be surprised at 
your new foot fetish, your new panty fetish, your new porn addiction 
and how inspiring you find it, and how hot it makes you to sleep 
someplace different every night and cheat on your husband. See? I told 
you that you were really kinky."

What I felt then was indescribable: The thinking part of my brain knew 
I didn't want any of this, but even while that part protested, the 
rest of my mind agreed that what Lexa was saying was utterly, 
unchangeably true. I would sit and wait for Becca. We would go home 
together. I would be a pussy-eater within hours, and whenever Becca 
kicked me out, I would start trolling for my next stranger sex--the 
more, the better.

"But what's going to happen to Brian?" I whimpered.

"Sweetie," Lexa said, "don't worry. I'm going home to him. And don't 
worry--I'm not going to turn him gay. I really want to ride his cock. 
Although..." She grinned. "Well, when I'm done with him, he'll 
probably really, really, really like it when a girl pisses in his 
mouth. Won't you appreciate that?"

"Oh, no..." I crumpled and buried my face in my arms. My emotions were 
totally at odds with the raging fire burning in my snatch.

Lexa patted me as she rose to go. "Braeden, it's OK," she said. "When 
I'm done, I might even let the two of you get back together. The only 
thing is, promise to meet me here every week so I can hear about 
everything you're doing. I really like having a friend in the city."

------

Author's note: Thanks for reading this far! If you enjoyed this story, 
it would sure mean a lot if you dropped a brief note to me at 
jjj7676@gmail.com. In fact, it would mean a lot to any of the authors 
you like here or on any similar sites if you dropped them a brief 
note. It's not so much that we need attention or compensation for our 
work--it's that it turns us on knowing someone else gets off on our 
stories as much as we do. Of course, we like the attention and 
compensation, too.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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