This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, or if you will be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read no further - delete the file.  Otherwise ....enjoy!  


Shopping with Yolanda

by Nessus

Tease 

I met Yolanda at a cocktail function at one of our suppliers. My boss had virtually forced me to go but as soon as I saw Yolanda I was glad I went.

Yolanda was sipping champagne and smoking a cigarette when our eyes locked. Tall, elegant and very sensual in that French way that made my cock hard, I was immediately drawn to her. We laughed, talked and drank wine but, as she had to work at the Embassy, I couldn’t get any further that night.  

“Perhaps we could have dinner sometime?” I asked.

Looking me up and down, her eyes lingered on my crotch before returning to my face. “Let’s meet in town on Saturday for brunch and some shopping. It might be fun.”

Shopping? Not what I had in mine but the way she lounged on the arm, of the sofa with her short dress riding up those long legs caused my cock to twitch. “Sure,” I agreed. “I love shopping.”

“Liar,” she laughed. “But I need to buy some things and, perhaps later?” The last part was emphasised with a cheeky smile and an arched eyebrow.

I raised my glass. “To later,” I toasted and she giggled prettily.

As I turned to go she leaned close. “Alan,” she whispered with just a hint of her French accent. “Save it all for me.”

Startled, I looked at her and she smiled knowingly at me. Blushing, I realised she knew she had made me hard and that I was probably going to jerk off. An amazing woman I thought as I flagged a cab, my cock straining at the promise of Saturday and I resolved to do just as she asked.

We met outside a cafe and my cock twitched at the sight of her in a short skirt, simple blouse, hose and high heels. “Alan,” she greeted me in delight and kissed me sweetly, pressing her wonderful body against me.

“Yolanda,” I said, holding her close as my cock swelled against her belly. She smiled and her eyes darted down and back to my face. I was wearing tight cotton pants and they had become a lot tighter.

“Coffee, Cherie?” she asked, holding my hand and leading me to the cafe. As we sat close at the table, sipping our coffees, her hand rested on my leg and her fingers traced my inner thigh lazily, occasionally touching my hard cock as it strained against my underwear and trousers. 

“Mmm, Cherie,” she said, grinning and I grinned back nervously as her long fingers traced the outline of my throbbing cock. Leaving the cafe, I was conscious of my erection outlined in my pants but, as she had marched into the street, I had no choice but to follow.

Yolanda led the way into the department store. “Let’s shop,” she said and we rode the escalators to the first floor. She picked up a pair of white trousers and held them against me. “So chic,” she murmured. “So right for the summer. Try them on,” she urged.

Pushing through the crowds to the dressing room, I removed my shoes and pants. I was standing there in my shorts when the door suddenly opened and Yolanda entered. “Shh,” she said, her finger pressed against those full lips. “I want to see how they fit,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Standing close to me, I heard my ragged breathing as she pulled my shorts down and my cock jumped free, hard and throbbing. “Hmm,” she whispered as her fingers lightly ran up and down my shaft. “So hard.” My cock pulsed and I gulped air but she suddenly stopped and I was left straining with my cock twitching and my heart pounding as she leaned against the door.

“Let me see the new trousers, Cherie,” she said softly. I reached down to pull my shorts back up but she waved a finger at me. “Not with those,” she said. “Not those horrible American shorts,” she pouted. “They’re not like the European ones that, how you say, cup your balls,” she said, gesturing with the palm of her hand and my cock jerked at her words.

I pulled my shorts off, my cock waving in the air like a flag, and pulled the white trousers up over swollen balls. It was a tight fit but I managed to fasten the zipper. “Bon,” she murmured, studying the explicit bulge in the white cotton as I self-consciously modelled them for her. “Wear them,” she said, suddenly scooping up my old trousers and shorts to disappear out of the dressing room like a whirlwind.

As I was wearing a tight T-shirt, I knew I would be virtually exposed in the condition I was in. I had a momentary panic attack and then waited until my cock subsided to a manageable half-mast position before I could slip my shoes on to venture outside.

Yolanda was leaning against the cash register counter, smiling at me as I sheepishly emerged. “Wonderful,” she cried. “You look so rugged, so handsome. A perfect choice.” The clerk put my old pants in a carry bag and I followed her up the escalators. She was standing on the step before me and she leaned towards me as she raised the hem of her skirt. “I think I have a run,” she murmured, examining her stockings. Casually, she lifted the skirt higher, I saw lace stocking tops and my cock surged. “Do you see a run, Cherie?” she whispered, sliding the skirt up.

I shook my head frantically and clutched the carry bag close to my groin. Yolanda smiled at me and dropped her skirt. “Good,” she said. “French stockings are so expensive in America. You men don’t know how lucky you are with just sox.” She pronounced lucky as ‘luckee’ and I thought it was so sexy.

We emerged on the next floor and found ourselves surrounded by computers and computer games. “I do not understand these things,” she pouted. “They are so difficult for me. Do you understand them, Cherie?” she asked, her big brown eyes looking at me and I nodded. “Bon! Show me!”

We spent the next hour moving though games and programs as I showed her how to use computers, modems and all the other paraphernalia. She was rapt in my descriptions, followed my every word and I felt like a king.

“You are so wonderful, Alan,” she said as we rode up the escalator, her head on my shoulder.

“I do deal with computers every day,” I said modestly.

My eyes popped as I saw we were in the lingerie section surrounded by filmy intimate garments of every description and my cock virtually visible in the tight white pants without underwear. Suddenly, I realised I didn’t have the carry bag, my protection! The alarm obviously showed on my face, as Yolanda was concerned. “Alan, what is the matter?”

“My carry bag!” I cried. “I don’t have it!”

“You must have put it down at the computers.”

“Yes, that’s it!” I said. “I’ll be back,” I cried as I ran to the down escalators and frantically searched the floor, even asking the clerks. No one had seen it. Dejected, I rode the escalators up and I saw Yolanda waiting at the top, my position giving me a clear view up her skirt to the top of her stockings. My cock swelled and I immediately realised how vulnerable I was in my new pants with no underwear.

“Yolanda,” I said hoarsely as I met her at the top of the escalators surrounded by plastic mannequins in filmy lingerie. “I have to buy some shorts.”

“Now? Can’t it wait? We are here now and I need to purchase some new panties. Alan, I’m surprised that you are thinking of yourself all the time. You have purchased some sexy new pants,” she said. “Yet, you don’t want me to buy what I need. So unfair, Cherie!”

“I’m sorry, Yolanda,” I said. “It’s just that I feel so, you know, transparent,” I finally said, gesturing down at my bulging crotch.

She looped her arm through mine. “Cherie,” she whispered in my ear, her breath warm and sweet. “I love it. So full and so hard,” she breathed and my cock surged again. The last thing I wanted was to cum in my pants, as I knew the wet stain would immediately make it clear what had occurred as well as making my genitals obvious.

She tugged on my arm and led me to a rack of panties and picked up a pair of black net panties with tiny flowers embroidered over the gauze. “Alan,” she said as she nonchalantly displayed the panties to me and I pressed further into the rack to hide my swollen cock from the shop assistants and shoppers. “Do you like these little panties?”

Yes,” I croaked.

Her eyes locked on mine. “They are like the ones I’m wearing today, Cherie,” she whispered and my cock strained as I teetered on the edge. Her hand slipped inside the panties and I could clearly see her palm through the black gauze net. “You can see everything through them, though. So dangerous. If I’m not careful,” she confided, “Everyone could see my, how do you say?” she asked innocently, standing close with the panties touching the top of my straining zipper.

“Pussy,” I croaked.

“Ah yes,” she squealed delightedly. “Pussy. Yes, everyone could see my pussy.” She held the panties up and balled her fist inside them, pushing at the satin crotch. “I would like to get the monsieur version for you, Cherie. So your balls could be held like so.” I stared at the panties. “We should get them today or would you prefer these, perhaps? We could just get a larger size and you could wear tiny panties like these?”

“Yolanda,” I croaked, my cock throbbing as I hovered on a knife-edge of frustration. “Don’t,” I moaned as she moved closer.

“Don’t? You don’t want me to buy them for you? I could pull them down Cherie and suck your long hard cock.” I groaned as she whispered that in my ear, her fingers feathering my cock through my pants. “But, if you don’t want them. So be it.” Suddenly, her hand was gone and she placed the panties on the rack. On the edge of cuming with my cock jerking wildly in my tight pants, I watched her flounce away to another rack.

She rummaged between the panties hanging from the new rack, took a pair out and beckoned me. I looked across the yawning clear space between us, swallowed and quickly walked over, my hard pulsing cock clearly visible in the white pants.

Yolanda smiled at the outline of my hard cock pressed firmly against my body by the tight pants. “You are enjoying shopping, no?”

“Yolanda,” I said urgently. “Let’s go somewhere. Please?”

“Somewhere?” she asked quizzically.

“So you can,” I gestured at my straining cock, “you know, what you said.”

She shook her beautiful head, her short dark hair moving over her forehead. “Non, no,” she said. “I never suck cock in public. I like to enjoy it for a long time.” I groaned at her sultry words and she looked up from examining the white panties in her hands. “I like to, “ she paused as if searching for the words and then licked her lips before she spoke. “Tease,” she said finally and my cock pulsed urgently and I knew I would cum soon if I wasn’t careful.

“Please don’t talk like that,” I moaned.

“Like what?” she said innocently.

“Saying things like that. I don’t want to, you know…”

Yolanda smiled suddenly. “Ah, I see,” she giggled and moved close, linking her arm through mine as she whispered in my ear. “You don’t want to do a big spurt in your pants?” I nodded frantically. “It would be a big mess, no?”

“Yes, it would,” I croaked. “No underwear,” I explained urgently in case she hadn’t understood.

She patted my arm and moved back to the rack to replace the panties. Suddenly, she squatted down to the bottom of the rack to search through some more. Her skirt gaped and my eyes were drawn to her stocking tops and the dark hint of panties as my cock moved closer to the edge. She looked up and saw where I was looking. Smiling, she stood with a pair of white panties in her hands. “You naughty boy,” she whispered. “Trying to see my panties, no?” She held up a pair of panties in wispy white gauze. “You like these?” I nodded, desperate to leave. “I like them also. Buy them for me,” she said, pressing them into my sweaty hands.

Yolanda led the way to the cash register and smiled at the woman behind the counter. Sheepishly, pants bulging, I followed and put the panties on the counter. “We’ll take these,” I croaked.

The woman took them and Yolanda leaned over the counter slightly. “He likes those panties very much,” she said to the clerk, a young woman.

“They’re very sexy,” the clerk said, ringing up the sale.

“He can not wait to see me in them,” Yolanda said emphasised, glancing at my bulging crotch and the outline of my straining cock.

The clerk followed her gaze. “So I see,” she laughed. Blushing, I paid, took the parcel and walked quickly away with a giggling Yolanda.

She kissed me on the cheek as we walked into an empty elevator. “Thank you,” she said as she lightly squeezed my cock.

“Can we go?” I pleaded, pushing the button as the door closed. The elevator chimed and she held my hand to drag me into the street as I frantically tried to hide my cock with the small parcel. “We must have brunch, no?” she said, leading me into a cafe.

Relieved, I sat at a small table on the terrace, separated from the street by a low hedge in terracotta pots. Yolanda sat opposite me and took the parcel from my trembling hands. Placing it in her handbag, she smiled mischievously at me and I jumped as I felt her foot in my crotch. I glanced down and I saw her toes in the black nylon waggle at me in greeting.

I was about to say something to her when the waitress arrived, giving us menus. As I smiled at her, I felt Yolanda’s toes start to move against the sensitive underpart of my cock. “Would you like our brunch special or would you like to look at the menu?” she asked me and I struggled to answer as Yolanda’s toes brought me to the edge.

“We’ll have coffee and rolls,” Yolanda answered and the waitress walked away, her hips swinging in her short skirt. “A pretty girl,” observed Yolanda as her toes started again. “I wonder what panties she has on, eh?”

“Please,” I pleaded.

“Ah,” she smiled. “You are close to cumming, no? Do you want to cum in your pants?” she teased as I trembled against her foot.

“No,” I managed to croak as I balanced on the verge of doing just that.

Her toes stopped as the coffee and rolls arrived. As Yolanda broke a warm roll on her plate, she winked at me. “Your cock is leaking so much your pants are wet and I feel it on my toes.” I looked down and she was right when I saw a spreading stain of pre-cum on my pants. “It is a pity you lost your carry bag, Cherie,” she said. “I could have used your ugly underwear to catch your big spurt under the table. It is a great shame,” she sighed.

My hand trembled as I reached for my coffee cup and I managed to take a long calming sip. Yolanda placed her half-empty cup down and the wicked torment of her toes resumed. Almost spilling my coffee, I sat the shaking cup on the table as I fought the rising torrent.

Yolanda watched me carefully across the table as I quivered on the end of her toes, rushing towards explosion. Suddenly, the toes vanished and I dangled, quivering and shaking on the edge of cumming while she watched me with bemused eyes.

“Cherie,” she whispered excitedly. “You almost exploded then you were so close, no? Be careful or you will flood your pants,” she said mockingly. “Such a big stain.”

“Please don’t,” I said begged weakly. “Please.”

“Cherie,” she whispered, “most boys want to spurt. And you do not? Tsk tsk, such a strange American.” Yolanda drank the last of her coffee and started to apply her red lipstick as her toes stroked my quivering cock.

“Please, no,” I whispered urgently but she smiled and, as she returned the lipstick to her handbag, her nylon covered toes raked my cock. Blood rushed to my ears and my heart pounded as her toes became more and more insistent in taking me to the edge and this time I knew she was going to push me over.

I groaned audibly on that crowded terrace as I trembled and exploded in a powerful orgasm. Yolanda was watching me keenly as her expert toes milked every last drop from my pumping cock into my saturated pants.

After a moment, she withdrew her foot and I sat there exhausted staring down at the creamy mess now soaking my pants. “Ooo, “ she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste, “my toes are all wet.” 

Pushing her chair back, she stood and kissed me gently on the head. “Thank you for the panties, Cherie. Perhaps, one day you will see them on me, no?”  She giggled and started to walk away when she turned to me. “Thank you for brunch,” she said smiling. “I will tell the waitress you have had a little accident, no?” 

Another laugh and she walked to where the waitress was serving another table. Humiliated by this expert tease, I watched as she said something to the waitress who, along with the occupants on the table she was serving, turned to stare at me. Yolanda waved and vanished into the restaurant while I waited, dejected and beaten, for my further embarrassment. 

Nessus29@hotmail.com












