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The Panty Perils of Me 00

By: HarleyFatboy1



First of all let me apologise to my regular readers for my long absence as I am back to working full time, which leaves me very little time to write. Hopefully you will enjoy the further adventures of Ms. Harley as I have been drawn to write a side series of stories that relate to the A Woman's Journal series.

I can't promise how often I will be able to submit additions, but sincerely hope that you enjoy my efforts. 



The Beginning

When one is in the midst of a series of embarrassing as well as forced exposures it is somewhat difficult to recall where it all began. It seems that my delving back into the workplace resulting in my employment at S&M Investments as written about in A Woman's Journal has had an added consequence. Not only am I learning a lot about myself and others through my recent career start, but it seems that my newly developed outgoing personality has brought me to the attention of my neighbors and acquaintances.

It is the day of the semester ending teacher's conferences for my daughters and I am in a hurry as usual having come from participating in one of my new client's business activities that had me riding on the back of a large motorcycle. I believe that it went by the name of Boss Hog. I am a bit worse for wear as a business jacket, skirt and heels are not exactly motorcycle wear, so I am hoping to get in a quick shower before attending the conferences.

While constantly checking the time, I throw on a beige colored silk dress not taking the time to wear a slip underneath, particularly since I don't own one nor even checking myself in the mirror before I run out to my car. I drive too fast to the high school to attend my daughters' teacher's conference parking in the school parking lot and running to the front steps to be as close to on time as I possibly can. 

The teacher's conferences are considered an essential part of a child's education and provide an indicator as to the interest of the parents in their child's development. Since my husband is constantly traveling, I am in essence a single parent and will not allow my situation to serve as an excuse to be late. 

Immediately upon arrival I know that something isn't quite right as most everyone in the hallways is staring at me as if I am wearing nothing but a bra and panties. I can't for the life of me figure out why so many men, young and old, are smiling as I make my way through the maze of hallways to my first scheduled conference.

As I hurry past the glass display case showing off all of the various trophies and awards that the school has achieved over the years, my reflection stops me in my tracks. It is now quite apparent why I have garnered so many looks and outright stares. The florescent lighting in the hallways of the school has the effect of making my dress almost transparent and it does look like I am wearing nothing but a bra and panties. 

I want to shrink in embarrassment and shame for seeming so brazen with my exposure. How was I to know that the material of my beige dress would become so revealing under your average school's lighting choice? 

I can feel my face flushes crimson, as my first impulse is to use my hands to cover my now not so private areas.

It seemed perfectly natural to put on a matching sheer white bra and string bikini panty set underneath my beige dress. It never occurred to me that I would be showing my lingerie selection to everyone at the school.

We have probably all dreamed of running through the hallways of our high school in either our underwear or nude, only for me this wasn't a dream. My mortification was all too apparent as my mind raced through my options.

The easy one was to get the hell out of there, but these conferences were too important to miss as they played a rather major role in a student's progress as well as their ability to receive written recommendations for college.

I really had no other choice but to continue my lingerie show and endure the continued stares and obvious delight of my unintended exposure.

As I continued my quest to arrive at the first scheduled conference I managed to pick up an entourage of young men most of whom lived in my neighborhood. It was quite apparent by their overheard comments that I had achieved the designation of MILF.

Adding to my consternation was their rather aggressive attitude towards my exposure following me from one scheduled conference to another without attempting to hide their intent of ogling and leering at me. Although it all seemed somewhat innocuous at the time, it was to lead to a series of further exposures of not only my lingerie but a long dormant desire of exhibitionism that I didn't know that I had.

I am sure that it only took me seconds to arrive at the doorway of the first scheduled teacher, but it seemed like hours as I purposely slowed my pace in full acceptance of my dilemma.

I will admit that there was a positive result from my transparency as all of the male teacher's extended their scheduled time with me while at the same time making sure that I spent most of my time standing in front of them under the florescent lights as they not so discreetly traced the outline of my barely there undies with their eyes. 

Despite the humiliation of having my children's teachers stare at my nipples and crotch, by the time I got back to my car, my entire body was vibrating with such a raw sexual energy that I couldn't concentrate enough to drive, but simply sat there with the conflicting emotional response of tears in my eyes and a very wet spot between my legs.

Thus began a series of events and circumstances that I will henceforth refer to as The Panty Perils of Me.

The Panty Perils of Me 01





It has been 4 weeks since my embarrassing exposure to the neighborhood hormonal charged 18 year olds at my daughter's high school and as a constant reminder I have a group of them lurking outside my home to get glimpses of me. Normally I guess that I should be flattered, however it has become a bit unnerving for me and I have found that I have purposely altered some of my regular routines to avoid their constant scrutiny. One of these routines has been my early morning work out where I have learned to incorporate aspects of the equipment found at our local playground that is located within eyesight of our house.

I believe that every neighborhood has them i.e. a group of males that react to their burgeoning hormones by acting inappropriately. It never happens when they are alone as they are by nature polite and respectful. However get them together as a group and I will overhear their comments on my tight pants or short skirts along with references to my MILF status, which has also brought me to the attention of one of my more reclusive neighbors, and possibly others as well.

In a way it does help to assuage my female ego to have a group of men hovering around like dogs in heat, but to what end I am not sure.

As the warmer weather has approached I couldn't ignore the call of the outdoors and have again been getting up early and walking a couple of blocks to the playground to use the equipment as part of my exercise routine. I am always the only one there but often have my newly acquired entourage admiring my sweat soaked t-shirt and nylon shorts as I walk home. It is difficult to hide my smile as I can only imagine what they might be thinking about during what I expect to be their subsequent unusually long trips to the bathroom.

I can imagine them emerging with reddened faces a little out of breath with a sense of satisfaction at their recent ministrations and ejaculations into a wad of toilet paper. Shame on me for even thinking about these things, but as I have written in my Woman's Journal often enough, I am changing.

One morning I was in one of my moods. You know the ones, when you wake up in the morning feeling aroused and want to be a bit naughty. This particular one found my normal wardrobe of exercise shorts and a t-shirt bunched up in the laundry basket awaiting a thorough cleansing of my female odors and stains. So instead I found myself donning a black cotton summer blouse and micro mini along with a pair of flip-flops for my morning routine. Not exactly the ideal form of exercise wear, but as I have already stated, I was in one of those moods. I could probably spend a great deal of time analyzing my choice of attire as a hidden desire for attention or something similar, but when I am in one of my moods it is so much simpler to just go with the flow instead.  

I walked down to the playground without seeing any of my aforementioned audience, although it was still quite early, and began my routine resulting in numerous upskirts and panty peeks, which went seemingly unobserved but caused such a delightful tingling inside me that my body was absolutely vibrating with sexual energy.

My stamina was at an all time high as I climbed onto the top of the oversized tire stack and began to do body presses by inserting myself inside the opening of the tire with my hands on either side of the rim as I lowered my body and then pushed myself back up to define my arms and build upper body strength.

I was doing extremely well as I tried to do that one more rep with my arms shaking and my shoulders groaning in complaint. Unexpectedly my body just gave out. 

As I fell through the opening of the tire, a few strands of steel belt caught the zipper of my mini skirt which combined with my own gravity induced fall put the wires in a perfect position to tear the zipper completely open from stem to stern and off came my skirt never to be worn again.

As I stood shaking from the experience I gingerly checked everything that either bounced or hit the side of the tire as I fell to find that I was basically unharmed except for some minor bumps and bruises that normally would be covered by my clothing anyway. The same could not be said for my skirt, which now hung seductively from one of the protruding wires as if thrown there by an over anxious lover. I then climbed back out leaving the shredded skirt behind wondering how I was going to make it home wearing a too short to cover anything black blouse and very tiny black panties. 

Just as I resolved myself to retrieve my torn skirt to use as a makeshift cover-up, I heard the voices of my testosterone filled male admirers approaching the playground.

"Are you sure you saw her come down here today?" 

"She was wearing a mini skirt?" 

"I am telling you that I was watching her do her usual stuff and she's was wearing a mini skirt and black panties."

"God, I would love to see her legs all the way up, if you know what I mean." 

"She has got to be here somewhere."

So much for my 'sexy' mood as the realization that my fan club was about to see their resident MILF in just her panties hit me full in the face or more specifically, full in the gut. A sense of panic coursed through me as I pulled on my skirt until the steel belted wires came loose from my destroyed zipper and attempted to wrap the material around my waist holding it in place with one hand. 

Essentially I was now wearing a very short skirt with a side slit that went all of the way up to where my hand held the material together. 

I then gathered all of the courage that I could muster trying to replace the overwhelming feeling of discomposure with an adult determination to get myself home. With a deep inhale of air to bolster my resolve I stepped out from behind the tires to look at my surprised but very pleased male admirers.

As firmly as I could, I told them to mind their own business, but the shaking combined with a telltale squeaking of my voice gave my extreme lack of confidence away.

One of the young men grabbed the loose flap of my skirt easily pulling it from my trembling hand and there I stood in my too short black blouse and my pair of tiny black string bikini panties.

The look of pure satisfaction on all of their faces gave my stomach a weird feeling as I felt a warm flush envelope my bare skin.

What exactly do you do when you are standing almost naked in front of a hormone infused group of voyeurs whose wet dreams of me have just come true?

Oh sure, I know what many of you are thinking as you imagine a sequence of BJ's as well as a gang bang, but I am not that type of girl. And after all this story is about me, isn't it?

As I stood in the middle of the circle that they had formed around me an older male voice barked out with authority, "Get away from her and leave her alone, you hoodlums." 

I turned to see my reclusive neighbor, who it was rumored had been asked to retire his tenure as a noted professor as he had a penchant for taking revealing photos of not so willing coeds, approaching my band of voyeurs.

Immediately their bravado turned to uncertainty as my one souvenir taker returned my ruined skirt to my neighbor. I found it uncomfortable with how long it took the professor to return my skirt to me so I could cover up my nakedness. Had I not been so distracted by everything that was happening I undoubtedly would have recognized that undeniable look in his eyes as he unabashedly stared at my body.

Time would remind me of that look.

The group disbanded as I repeatedly thanked my neighbor for his intervention. As he walked me home he said something to me about " returning the favor one day", which has left me with a very uneasy feeling as the look on his face indicated that any type of favor would not be of an innocent nature. 



The Panty Perils of Me 02





I received a text from The Professor yesterday inviting me to stop by his house for a "little conversation". How he had my number I can't quite imagine, although it certainly told me that there is more to him than I would suspect.

He is possibly in his late 60's, but you would never know it as he stays in shape and is not unpleasant to look at. I can easily see how he would allegedly seduce some of his female students to pose for him.

I decided to stop by after my morning run as I often have seen him on his porch with his paper and a cup of coffee as I have jogged by. Coincidently I had never noticed him outside any of the prior mornings to my mini mishap.

I tentatively approached his porch finding it unusual that he had never acknowledged me since my rescue other than his eyes peering over his paper to follow my jaunt past his house each morning. I guess he likes my orange jogging shorts.

He motioned for me to sit down, which I did, and slid what looked like a small stack of photos placed face down towards me. Without saying anything he motioned for me to turn them over. I truly believe that he relished the look of horror on my face as I saw myself in my black string bikini panties surrounded by my teen stalkers. The angle of the photos suggested much more to anyone looking at them than an accidental striptease, and it was obvious that my neighbor had intended this when he took them. Instead of me looking like a woman in distress, his editing made it look more like I was putting on a show for the neighborhood youth.

It was quite clear to me that he had been watching the entire morning along with taking photos. 

I couldn't control the shaking in my hands as I looked in disbelief at each revealing photo. At this point my neighbor in a quiet but very commanding voice told me to meet him the next day at a nearby park and to "wear a dress".

So today I find myself walking to the park wearing my khaki shirtdress and heels feeling nauseous as my mind creates one scenario after another; each one too humiliating to imagine.

I see him sitting on a park bench away from the softball field, tennis courts, and play area. When I approach him, his eyes seem to look into my soul as if he knows all of my thoughts and desires. As I stand before him about to express my indignity at his hubris to try and blackmail me, he says in that commanding voice of his, "Why don't you unbutton your buttons and show me what you put on for me today."

"Put on for him!" "What kind of nerve does this man have?"

Why didn't I just refuse? After all nothing that couldn't be explained happened between myself and the neighborhood boys and yet, I find myself holding the top button of my dress in my fingers and pushing it though the buttonhole. I feel almost hypnotized with the thought of complying to this highly educated and very dominant man.

"One down, nine to go", I think to myself as my fingers move to the next button. The nauseous feeling has returned accompanied by a warm flush that seems to originate from between my legs, but I continue my slow unveiling anyway.

I can't explain the torment that I feel as I desperately don't want to obey him like a mindless plaything and yet at the same time I do. The way his dark gray eyes watch each button depart from its button hole allowing the fabric of my dress to part a little more revealing more and more of me is intoxicating to me.

Once I get below my waist the top folds of my dress suddenly part revealing my red silk triangle bra eliciting a response from my neighbor as he sighed, "Ah, Red, one of my favorite colors." The fabric of the bra does nothing other than to accent my very erect nipples bringing a Cheshire kind of grin to the professor's face.

He is well aware that deep down in the hidden recesses of my sexuality, I am enjoying undressing for him, making the experience all the more humiliating and exciting.

I flush with embarrassment as my fingers continue their mortifying trip down the front of my torso. Much sooner than I had hoped, I have unbuttoned the last button, and I hear that commanding voice, "Let's have you open the gift wrapping and show me how you look in your red."

The audacity of him to think that I purposely wore red and then my mind stops me in the midst of this thought, "Why did I choose to wear a very vibrant red bra and panties today knowing that this was a possibility?" 

Do I have a deep desire or is it an overwhelming fantasy to be commanded to strip and then endure a strange man's stares as he leers with pleasure at my exposure? It can't be, although we both already know the truth as I am holding my dress open at his demand with my nipples fully erect pushing suggestively at the silk fabric of my triangle bra feeling his control over me as if I had no choice but to obey.

I take the folds of my dress and pull them open as he tells me to smile and uses his camera to capture the moment. Every nerve ending in my body is alive as the realization that I am obeying his every command without hesitation hits me full in the face or maybe it was a bit lower i.e. about the middle of my torso right where my legs come together.

The next poses are a bit of a blur as I am told to pull my dress away from my body and stick out my bottom mimicking a face of delight mixed with sexual pleasure. Then he has me sit on the park bench with my dress again pulled away from my body, each time recording every demeaning moment with his camera.

I hate the feelings of raw sexuality that course through my body along with the realization that the Professor knew all about me before I did.

I want to be considered a strong, independent woman, and yet here I am posing as a pin up in almost nothing, outdoors only a couple of blocks from my house. And I am enjoying it.

As I sit on the bench I hear a noise over my shoulder and quickly look to see someone observing our little photo session, but they immediately duck out of sight so I can't determine who they might be.

All I can think is that I have been caught again in a very compromising position and my heart quickens at the realization that my ordeals may be far from over. I want to deny these feelings but it is difficult to deny my own body's reaction.

When I think that things can't get much more degrading for me, that voice that I have been unable to deny once more issues a demand. "Straddle the park bench railing and show me how much fun you can have with a length of wood between your legs." His emphasis on the word "wood" does not go unnoticed by me as I approach the park bench one more time.

My brain wants me to run away, but my body won't comply. I climb up on the park bench as if in a dream wrapping one leg over the top tentatively lowering my weight onto the thin rail allowing it to make full contact with my most sensitive erogenous zone. 

As my lower torso settles on the thin rail my embarrassment knows no boundaries as a gasp of surprise and unintended delight escapes my mouth. I look at him in absolute disgrace and I know that he knows what kind of woman that I really am.

I look away in shame only to hear him say, "I think that we are done for the day" and I hear him walk away as I continue to straddle the railing.

When I finally find my composure and lift my leg back over the bench a small telltale wet spot on the wood only adds to my total and abject degradation.

In what seems to be still a daze of raw uncontrolled passion, I sit down on the bench with my legs wide apart and slip my right hand down the front of my tiny red panties. My fingers easily find my very swollen female nub and within seconds I am writhing in the midst of a most intense and incredible orgasm.

It is only after the last convulsion shakes my body that I become fully aware of where I am and what I have just been doing. My heart leaps in fright and anxiety as I quickly button my dress back up only to hear a movement in the bushes further down the path.

I am afraid that the original voyeur that I noticed while posing has returned for my lewd performance and now I am really afraid of where this is all going.

I take the long way home so I don't have to pass by the professor's front porch in case he wants to gloat at my performance for him. If he only knew about the performance that followed, or was it him who returned to watch me?



The Panty Perils of Me 03



Well it didn't take long for me to find out who was spying on my performance for the professor as a day later I received a very provocative email.

It informed me that my lewd show in the park was going to find its way on the Internet if I didn't agree to go to a party with the sender and had attached pictures taken of myself with my dress held wide open standing in front of the professor. It certainly didn't provide much room for interpretation other than I was becoming the neighborhood slut. 

At the same time it didn't provide me any further clue as to who was spying on me as I had my hand down the front of my panties playing a very erotic song of release on my female piano key.

I was told to wear something nice with a blazer and to walk down to the park where I would be picked up at 8:00 p.m. Friday night.

When is this ever going to end and what is it with the park???

Friday night came and I made up an excuse that I had a PTA meeting to attend, but should be home by 10:00 unless we got to sitting around and talking like we often do. I put on a nice white blouse with red pin stripes along with a pair of dressy white pants and heels. I topped the outfit off with a new rose-colored suede blazer. My outfit was very typical for what I would normally wear to a PTA meeting and thus caused none of my family members reason to doubt the veracity of my excuse.

I drove the car out of the driveway only to park it in the parking lot of the park just a few blocks away hoping that my family would stay in and not happen to spot it requiring some sort of explanation that I was most certainly not ready to provide.

I sat there nervously looking at the time on the dash clock wondering what the night had in store for me.

I would like to say that I was dreading another few hours of forced performances, however that very sensitive area between a woman's legs well up into her crotch was humming with a most intoxicating rhythm.

A car pulled alongside of mine about 10 minutes after I had arrived. I looked in shock at the occupant, as it was the son of one of our neighbors who was now in college but still living at home. 

Arnold is the type of young man that doesn't give off any particular reason for a woman to notice him, although he certainly had my attention right now.

He always seemed to be spying on me anytime that I was outside particularly in the summer months as I have a tendency to show much more skin, although that hasn't quite been the case lately.

I actually enjoyed his shy little glances. My sense of self and sexuality had waned as I approached 40 years of age and it was a real boost to my ego to have a 20 year old college student constantly looking at me as I did my gardening in a halter top and jean mini skirt.

So it didn't come as a complete surprise that he was one of the voyeurs from the park. 

I still don't know who was watching me masturbate. 

Arnold was very shy and a bit nerdy which made his little foray into blackmail seem a bit unusual.

Arnold motioned for me to get in his car, which I did. 

Before I had a chance to admonish him for the little game he was trying to play, he quickly explained to me that he had been invited to a party held by one of the most prestigious fraternities at his college, and how much he wanted to get invited to join. He knew that his only chance was to bring a date that would turn everyone's head and when he saw me at the park the other day he was convinced that I had to be that date.

All in all it seemed kind of cute that he wanted me to impress a group of 20 year olds.

Arnold said all of this without taking a single breath, as it seemed that if he didn't get it all out at once, I would disappear.

I calmed him down and reminded him that I was 20 years older than him. 

He told me how he had always felt left behind and wanted to be a part of something that could change people's perception of him, particularly the young women in his school.

As he shared all of his insecurities and dreams with me, I was flooded with memories of my own college days and of my own feelings of wanting to belong instead of always being on the outside looking in.

I could readily identify with Arnold's feelings and found myself no longer angry with him, but wanting to help.

I think that my motherly instincts were coming forward, although considering what occurred the rest of the night, it was much more complicated than that.

I asked him to explain again to me the theme of the party i.e. Playa's and Ho's, which essentially was an excuse for the men to be fully dressed while the women, were scantily clad. How novel for a fraternity party!

I explained to Arnold that having a 40 year old date might have him stand out for a while, however to really make him noticed, we should deviate from the theme of the party slightly. 

"What if you dressed as a very successful and wealthy businessman and I dressed like a very expensive escort?" I asked. 

I could tell that he didn't quite understand me, so I took over the situation.

"I want you to take me to your house and get one of your father's pin stripe suits, a dress shirt, shoes, and a tie that comes as close to matching my blazer as you can."

Thank goodness no one was home as Arnold ran upstairs to transform himself.

Arnold and his father were pretty much the same size and having been out socially with his parents, I knew that his father had a very nice and expensive wardrobe. I guess a successful lawyer can afford impressive wardrobes.

While Arnold was upstairs, I removed my blouse and bra, putting my blazer back on, which when buttoned showed my barely there cleavage, but kept my nipples covered as long as I didn't bent over too far. Although I am not that big on top, my breasts are quite perky; and having a large group of young men know that I was just a blazer away from being topless, should compensate for size.

I admired myself in a mirror on the wall while at the same time wondering what the f*** was I thinking.

The humming that had begun while I was waiting in the car, was intensifying.

Arnold came downstairs in a gorgeous gray pin stripe suit with a white and navy striped shirt and a colored silk tie that gave me quite a start, as it perfectly matched the color of my nylon bikini panties as opposed to my blazer.

I actually flushed in embarrassment as if he had seen me get dressed and purposely chose the color.

His hair was slicked back and his tall, lanky frame encased in such expensive attire made him quite sexy.

"OMG" I thought to myself as we headed to the door.

I can't really explain my next move, but on the way out of the door of his house I noticed a leash and collar lying on a chair by the door, which undoubtedly was used by his father and him to walk their black labrador, Charlie.

I scooped up the leash and collar and we headed back to Arnold's car.

Once we were again seated in his car, he turned to me and noticed for the first time, my lack of blouse and bra.

I loved how his eyes got wide as he stammered something about how great I looked.

I advised him to keep his eyes on the road, but reveled in the fact that he looked as much at me on our drive to campus as he did at our direction of travel just barely avoiding the running of more than one red light.

I felt that my initial impressions of Arnold were starting to change. I was beginning to really like him. Of course his adoration of me didn't hurt at all.

Once we arrived at the fraternity house, we got out of the car, and I attached the dog collar around my neck and handed Arnold the leash.

"What do you want me to do with this?" he stammered.

"I want you to hold it all night and act like you own me." I replied with my most captivating grin.

Arnold tentatively took the leash and I had him lead me up the walk to the front door of the fraternity house.

It was right at this point that all of my insecurities came rushing through me like a runaway train. My entire body shook with uncontrollable tremors of panic setting in. I felt that I couldn't breath; and my fight or flight reflex kicked in. In this case it was to run as far and as fast as my high heels could carry me particularly since I don't fight.

Arnold immediately sensed that something was wrong. The fact that I was sweating from head to cleavage might have been a clue.

"Are you OK, Ms. Harley?" he asked with an adorable look of concern on his face.

That simple question and his adorable look brought me back and I remembered why I had resolved myself to help him along with the fact that I was no longer a 18 year old girl going to my first college party.

I reminded myself that I was 40 years old and no longer would let a group of college pretenders make me feel insecure.

I turned to Arnold and said, "If you see me reacting like this again, I want you to give the leash a good pull. Do you understand?"

Arnold nodded as we now stood outside the front door.

As I gathered myself he rang the door and a young man in an outrageous pure white suit and matching fedora opened the door.

The look on his face when he saw Arnold was one of disappointment and disdain, which was easy for me to recognize as I had been the receiver of those same looks when I was in college. However when he saw the leash extending from Arnold's hand along with the attachment to the leash i.e. me, his look turned to one of complete surprise and delight.

Right at this point I knew that I had made the right decision to accompany Arnold as well as to change our look.

I spent the evening being the perfect submissive as I collected drinks and food for Arnold as well as anyone else he asked me to serve.

I knew full well that my bending and twisting constantly opened my blazer to unobstructed views of my bare breasts and very erect nipples and didn't care.

I was lost in the make believe as I constantly stood against Arnold and cooed into his ear giving him little pecks on the cheek.

I was the perfect submissive.

In return, Arnold completely came out of his shell and showed a side of him that was funny, entertaining, and delightful.

He was easily accepted by everyone as their brains tried to wrap themselves around the fact that he was with a 40 year old Mom wearing nothing but an open blazer for a top and a dog collar and leash around her neck.

Personally I loved the ability to be something that I had always fantasized about among a group of people that didn't know me from Eve. I had become Arnold's consort.

And as the evening progressed and I had a few drinks to loosen my inhibitions, I fell into my role perfectly.

I had progressed to putting Arnold's hand on my bottom allowing him to feel the outline of my tiny panties through the thin material of my white pants, while I in turn would suggestively rub the front of his gray tailored suit pants professing my desire to be alone with him whenever some young coed or fraternity stud happened by.

Poor Arnold was becoming a mass of hormones with an erection that had become very obvious to anyone looking at his crotch, and I loved it.

Towards the end of the evening a young woman walked into the party unescorted and changed everything for me. She had jet-black hair with thick black mascara around her eyes with very visible tattoos and piercings. She arrived wearing a black fishnet body suit and very fetishlike high heeled black boots. Underneath was nothing but a black thong. Her nipples were pierced as well as her ears, eyebrows, tongue and who knows what else.

She was easily 5'8" and with the boots towered above most of the girls as well as many of the boys with a perfect everything for a body.

My stomach lurched as she represented everything that I had ever wanted to be. She was my fantasy alter ego with her devil may care attitude and extreme confidence in herself. She walked through the fraternity house as if she owned it, helped herself to a drink and some food and surveyed the room.

Obviously she didn't belong and at the same time was the center of attention.

As her eyes locked on mine and she walked towards me, I could feel my nerves take over. I can't quite explain the feeling other than what a person might feel when a famous actor or rock star approaches them, although she was neither.

"You look as out of place here as I am," She said matter of factly. 

"Love the outfit," she continued as she stared at my very visible cleavage.

All I could do was stand there and smile with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and all of the saliva gone.

"My name is Jackie. We should get together for coffee some time. Arnold knows how to find me." 

All of her words stuck together in my mind and I continued to stare with my stupid smile.

She then turned on her heels and walked out the door as everyone including me watched her incredible butt and legs disappear into the night.

As I gathered myself I knew that I had to be as daring as her not only for Arnold, but for myself. 

I whispered to Arnold to play along and purposely spilled my drink on the President of the fraternity. I acted mortified by my clumsiness and begged Arnold not to punish me.

Poor Arnold had no idea how to react, but thankfully acted very displeased.

I took a hold of the side zipper of my white linen pants and pulled it down while at the same time undoing the clasp holding the waist closed.

From that point it was quite easy to let them simply float down my legs resting like a white cloud of material around my ankles.

The simple act of letting my pants drop to the floor was accompanied by a feeling that I was becoming quite familiar with: a mixture of extreme anticipation, excitement, and embarrassment knowing that I was about to show off most of my body to a room full of 20 something's. I flushed with a heat generated more from my act of abandonment and total submissiveness than any embarrassment. 

The heat that I was experiencing was now centered right between my legs and I could sense my lower lips starting to swell. The earlier humming sensation intensified. 

Everyone's eyes popped as I lifted each leg and walked out of my puddled pants.

In the back my blazer was barely long enough to be a micro mini dress, although in the front my lilac panties were clearly visible for all to see.

In the way back of my mind I was screaming to myself, "What the hell are you doing?" But I was determined to play out my role and get Arnold invited to join this fraternity.

I truly wanted to believe that this was my single reason for being so risqué, but my body's reaction leant itself to a much more hidden reason. 

I enjoyed the feeling of helplessness along with the need to respond to another man's command for me to strip.

Arnold hadn't issued any such commands, but my physical response was as if he had.

The flock of goosebumps forming on my bare legs and cheeks told me that I was almost naked and my juices began to flow.

My next moves were without any thought or pre meditation.

I unclasped the leash from my collar and handed it to Arnold. I then walked over to a side table bending myself completely over it while turning my head to Arnold asking, "Will five lashes be enough, Sir?"

Arnold completely flushed and an audible silence filled the large living room. My blazer had ridden well up my back completely revealing my lilac panties, which left quite a bit of cheek available for the leash.

I quivered from head to toe as I stretched myself across the table with my legs wide apart and my nylon covered bottom facing Arnold.

Arnold hesitantly took his arm back and applied the leather strap directly across both of my cheeks.

My back arched as my head threw back not realizing the swat of the leather would sting so much. 

I bit my lip hard to not cry out and at the same time groaned, "One, Sir."

I quick glance around the room clearly confirmed the success of my intentions, however I wished that I had said "Two" instead of "Five".

Another swat lit a fire on my exposed skin and I griped the table more firmly with both hands. I could feel my flesh heat up from the strap. What was more surprising was that it wasn't the only part of my lower anatomy that was heating up.

It hurt. It stung. I wanted to scream in pain. Yet the pain was exquisite.

As the burning sensation reached my brain to induce a physical reaction to the pain, my mind filled with thoughts of being a naughty woman that needed to be punished. 

Hadn't I spent the last few weeks parading around publicly in my panties? Is this how respectful women behave?

The combination of pain and unexpected pleasure surprised me and I felt my face flush for the umpteenth time.

At this point everyone at the party announced "Two" with full enthusiasm for the decadent scene unveiling before them.

There shouts somewhat brought me out of my dreamlike state, however as number three creased my squeezed bottom my excitement only increased.

By five my bottom was literally on fire, and I was close to an orgasm, but I continued to play my role taking the leash from Arnold's hand and reclasping it to my collar to my collar with such a trembling throughout my limbs that I may have been mistaken for someone with a nervous condition. Only my nervous condition was centered around my libido.

Arnold kindly picked up my abandoned slacks and handed them to me, but I gave him a little shake of my head to let him know that I should remain pantless. I could no longer tell where my assumed role ended and my hidden desires for dominance took over.

Right at this time I noticed one Mr. Randolf staring at me with a lifted smart phone having just taken my picture. He had applied for a position with my company and I was directly responsible for him not getting the job. Pardon my language, but he was a prick. He was the kind of young man who thought that he was everything to a young woman or in my case a middle-aged woman.

His constant stream of double entendre's and sexual innuendo made me sick to my stomach. I shared my feelings about him and he was not hired.

He was now working for his father in a meaningless position and felt that I was to blame.

His presence quickly brought me back to reality and I quickly turned to Arnold telling him that it was time to leave. For his own reasons he was in complete agreement and we exited the front door as the fraternity President walked us to the car. Arnold was verbally given his invitation to pledge and I was given one more long look from the President.

Arnold thanked him and we climbed into the car with me still only wearing my blazer, lavender panties, and heels.

Arnold apologized over and over for hitting me as well as thanked me profusely for what I had done for him.

Although what completely won me over was when he said that the fraternity was not for him and that he would prefer joining a scholastic based one instead.

I was really coming to like my college neighbor. 

On the ride home, exhaustion set in and I essentially passed out with my head on his lap vaguely realizing the reaction his male anatomy was having to the near presence of my mouth to his hormone charged groin. 

I had taken my blazer completely off and was using it as a makeshift blanket, which gave Arnold an unobstructed view of me from the hips on down.

My head was placed directly on his very firm erection and I had no intention of moving it.

I enjoyed the fact that he was physically excited in my presence and it kept the humming sensation that I had felt all night from subsiding.

When he shook me back awake in the parking lot, I wasn't quite sure if the large spot of liquid that was soaking through his red pants was a result of my drooling or his, although the nature of the earthy aroma emanating from the spot gave me a pretty good idea that it mostly belonged to him.




The Panty Perils of Me 03



I felt so alive and so wicked knowing that he had spewed his man juice all over the crotch of his father's expensive suit. How deliciously erotic to have such a young man react to my 40 year old flesh.

Arnold dropped me off at my car and after reaching for my slacks in his back seat, I planted a big kiss directly on his lips and said, "I will be talking to you." I actually wanted to find out more about Jackie, but the thought of seeing Arnold again, at least casually, was something that I would enjoy as well.

When I got home and found everyone asleep, I quickly took a photo of myself with just my blazer on and lilac panties and emailed it to Arnold. 

Do I hope that he will spend many afternoons in front of his computer fantasizing about me while he fills a handful of tissues? You bet I do.

By morning I still was humming, however the memory of seeing Mr. Randolf quickly ended my desire to play another piano solo.





The Panty Perils of Me 04





When I arrived at work this morning I had a message to call Mr. Randolf ASAP. 

I knew this was going to happen and I was absolutely dreading it. It seems that I can't do anything without it turning into another anxiety filled event.

OK, OK, I really did enjoy the fraternity party and if Mr. Randolf (Benjamin) hadn't been there, it would have provided me with quite a few reasons for alone time with my massager.

So it seems that I have to again pay for my indulgences, although none of this has really been my fault. Right?

I returned Benjamin's call and he asked me to meet with him this afternoon at his father's company.

Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach, but I agreed to meet him anyway.

I drove to his place of work and asked for him at the reception desk. He shortly came out to greet me with such a satisfied expression on his face that it made my skin crawl. 

I just kept thinking that whatever he had in mind for me that it was best to just get it over with. 

There was absolutely no exquisite humming going on in my body, just an overwhelming feeling of dread.

He led me into a conference room that was designed for smaller meetings as it had a table suited for at most six people. He leisurely sat down in one of the conference room chairs at the same time clearly letting me know that I should remain standing.

It is funny the thoughts that go through your mind at a time like this. I stood there in front of him trying to figure out where to put my hands of all things. Do I leave them at my side? Do I put them together behind my back? Or do I hold them together in front of me?

It was so awkward to be left standing as if I was on display or had been called into the principal's office.

Benjamin broke my concentration when he started to speak.

"I want you to understand that ever since you prevented my hiring at your company, which required me to work for my father, I have hated you." He said.

"I have wanted to repay you in the worst way and your little performance last night gave me the perfect inspiration." He continued with a sneer.

"Ms. Harley, I want you to strip to your bra and panties for me."

His words struck me like a bolt of lightening making every pore of my body react and filling me with an awful nauseous feeling. Benjamin was the last person on earth that I would ever want to strip for. Making matters much worse was the choice of lingerie that I had decided to wear today. 

After the fraternity party I was feeling quite frisky this morning and decided to demonstrate my newfound attitude with a bra, panty and garter set that I had found on sale, but had never worn before.

The bra was black and white striped with half cups that barely covered my nipples except for a row of lace that ran along the top of the cups. The garter belt matched the bra, while the panties were the tiniest string bikini panties in black with a white polka dot front and a completely sheer back.

I wanted to wear these for a special reason and Benjamin was definitely not a part of that reason.

I just stared at him in disbelief with a feeling of dread building in my stomach.

Why would he want me in just my lingerie inside a conference room other than to humiliate me?

A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead as I tried to stall for time in hope that someone might come along and interrupt our little meeting.

Benjamin noted my hesitation and with a very evil grin showed me the photos that he had stored on his phone along with my oldest daughter's email address. My entire body collapsed in total acceptance to my fate and I reached behind my back to undo the zipper of my black silk sheath dress.

I very reluctantly pulled the zipper down my back and slowly slipped my arms out of the sleeveless top until the top of my dress was gathered around my waist. I had never felt so alone and mortified in my life.

I hated this man and now I was stripping for him.

Once the top of my dress was completely free of my shoulders, I pushed it down over my hips letting it seductively slide down my legs and onto the floor of the conference room.

"Move your hands away from your body, so I can look at you." He gloated.

I have never felt so ashamed as I slowly turned letting Benjamin soak in my abject misery.

He made no pretense to be demure but blatantly stared at my barely covered breasts and crotch. As I slowly pirouetted as commanded, my see through backside was revealed to him.

"My, my, Ms. Harley, how absolutely delectable." He exclaimed as he saw my bottom for the first time.

"I never suspected that you wore such sexy underwear."

I flushed with embarrassment praying that this ordeal would end shortly.

I can't remember ever feeling so exposed or helpless as I could hear the voices and footsteps of people working just outside the door. Knowing that I was just a door thickness away from being seen by 30 more people filled me with a panicky feeling.

Now those of you reading this who may not take extreme pleasure in my predicament (Is there really anyone like this who reads my stories?) may ask why I didn't just grab my dress or remained dressed and leave?

I have to admit that from an early age I have been terrified of being singled out for ridicule and would do just about anything to maintain everyone's belief that I was a "normal" person. This also explains why I am so taken with Jackie, the young lady from the fraternity party. 

I would truly like to be as free as she seemed i.e. to not care what anyone else thought about me. But I am just not programmed that way.

So again I find myself fulfilling the whims of another person praying that anyone else won't discover me and hoping that whatever Mr. Randolf wants me to do, it won't take too long.

He ordered me to sit down on a chair that he obviously had brought into the room just for our meeting, as it resembled a kitchen chair. Another little message from him that I was there under his terms.

I sat and crossed my legs to act like I didn't care, however this position only pulled my panties down between my legs turning the front into a tiny triangle of white polka dots.

I quickly uncrossed my legs just as Benjamin told me to turn around on the chair and straddle it with my back towards him.

As I sat there he walked around me not even trying to conceal his pleasure at seeing me with my legs splayed to either side of the chairback as if offering my nylon covered kitty to him. When he got around to my back where he again lingered, leering at my sheer panties, his comments about my tight little ass and what he wanted to do to it made my anxiety that much worse. My entire body was shaking when he told me to stand up holding the back of the chair while bending over enough to let him see my "true assets". He was so funny that I forgot to laugh. 

I was told to smile for him while his cell phone recorded every pose. Damn technology anyway. If it hadn't been for cameras being in almost everything today, I wouldn't be posing now with sweat dripping down my back and running between my almost bare cheeks.

When Benjamin was done making me feel totally humiliated he ordered me take my stockings off.

I reached down and unsnapped the front clasps of my garter belt from the front of my stockings first and then lifted each leg one at a time to unsnap the back clasp.

Once the clasps were undone, I rolled the darker band of each stocking down my leg until each one was a rolled up ball.

Benjamin took each nylon ball from me telling me to open my mouth as wide as I could.

I just closed my eyes in resignation and opened my mouth as if I was about to take a bite of the biggest sandwich ever.

I felt both balls of nylon pass across my tongue lodging in the back of my throat. I had to concentrate on breathing through my nose as my mouth was now completely obstructed by my stockings.

Benjamin then took of hold of my arms right under my shoulders and lifted me up from the chair back into a standing position.

I opened my eyes to see my head being pushed over the chairback as he told me to grip the seat with both hands to bend completely over the back of the chair. 

I swear that I couldn't tolerate much more degradation, but I still found myself submissively draping my body over the conference room chair.

I was terrified as to what he might do next, but honestly never expected his next move.

He placed himself at my exposed backside where I could barely see him from the corner of my eye saying, "This might hurt a little." No sooner had his words left his mouth he smacked my bottom causing me to writhe in pain holding on to the chair with a deathlike grip.

The sound of another smack resounded through the small room causing me to not only clench my checks tightly together. 

My mouth opened wide and if it hadn't been for my nylons, I would have screamed aloud as my flesh burned in abject agony.

I would have loved to be saved from my humiliation but under the circumstances it would have only caused further embarrassment. 

To make matters even more mortifying Benjamin would periodically push his pelvis against my bottom to make me fully aware of his excitement over my predicament.

All I could concentrate on was to keep breathing through my nose as deeply as possible in an attempt to lessen the pain.

In a funny sort of way, I was happy to be gagged as my primal screams would have certainly brought a group of people rushing to the conference room further adding to my misery.

To make matters worse, his first sound smack across my buttocks was so forceful that it liberated my breasts from my bra's half cups. I didn't think that I had much jiggle up on top and was surprised how my tiny globes bounced with every administration of his hand to my almost bare backside.

The rubbing of the fabric on my already erect nipples only deepened my humiliation as I could feel myself getting aroused.

It was at this moment that something snapped in my brain and the entire sequence of events over the last few weeks flooded into my memory. The effect filled me with shame and loathing for myself as I recalled every detail of each predicament. I no longer could fool myself into thinking that I was not a willing participant in it all.

Everything became crystal clear to me, as I now knew that:

I enjoyed being stared at by everyone as I paraded myself shamelessly along the hallways of my daughters' school.

I enjoyed standing in front of the young men in the neighborhood in just my undies.

I enjoyed posing for the professor as clearly evidenced by the telltale-wet spot that I had left while straddling the park bench.

And last, it was my idea to remove my blouse and bra for the fraternity party and eventually my pants.

Worst of all was how I felt when Jackie walked into the party. My God, she is a woman and I was drawn to her.

All I am is a wanton sexual animal giving in to my depraved desires.

I needed to be punished; to put me back on the right path again, and who better than Mr. Benjamin Randolf to perform my exorcism.

As each smack sent shockwaves through my nervous system, I felt myself give in to my feelings of remorse. My initial reaction was to clench my gluteus muscles in order to lessen the pain, but I forced myself to welcome each smack as retribution for my exhibitionist tendencies as well as my latent desires to perform.

Each stinging slap across my almost bare buttocks purged these desires and fantasies from my very soul, and I resolved to never ever allow them to control my actions again.

I believed that Mr. Randolf was actually doing me a favor, as I needed to feel pain.

I moved my legs wide apart and stuck my sheer panty covered bottom out welcoming each blow to my dignity.

His swinging hand soon found access to my most intimate spot, which to my horror was quite swollen and opening.

My bottom stung like a thousand bees had assaulted it. My thighs felt like the worst case of sunburn. And now my flower was dripping my personal dew anytime his hand got close to it.

I was sweating from head to toe both from the continued and forceful spanking being rendered by Mr. Randolf as well as the expulsion of what I perceived to be my weak will to behave.

I was surprised at how the pain and humiliation of Benjamin's attack on my exposed bottom brought a release of pent up emotions and frustration as tears ran from my eyes representing a form of baptism from my sins.

I cried freely without any attempt to hide.

Then it happened. It seems that the mixture of pain and emotional release had just the opposite effect of what I had hoped for.

As Benjamin issued another stinging slap to my taut bottom I begin to convulse and shake in the throes of a very intense and unexpected orgasm. How could I imagine that the vivid review of my recent performances combined with my strong desire to feel pain would over stimulate my active libido?

As Mr. Randolf continued to rain smacks across my buttocks with his bare hand, I met each one with a muffled "Uh" as now my body shook with sexual release. It was absolutely cathartic as every nerve ending located between my belly button and upper thighs reacted to this physical and emotional combination of stimulus.

I had never had such an intense and protracted orgasm in all of my life.

My entire body let loose with such violent convulsions that I could no longer grip the seat of the chair. Saliva sprayed from my mouth as my muffled cries of raw pleasure spewed forth.

I intentionally crossed my legs at the thighs applying more pressure to my vibrating femininity.

My back jerked to and fro and my freed breasts danced lewdly to the rhythm of my release.

Even as I let go of the chair and slumped to the ground in total exhaustion, Benjamin had no clue that I had just orgasmed multiple times and thought my body had given out to his repeated punishment.

With all of my flesh from my thighs to my waist bright red and burning in pain, and my body totally spent from the intensity of my orgasm, Benjamin stood above me saying, " I hope you remember this day, Ms. Harley."

Little did he know that I would remember every detail of it, but for an entirely different reason. 

I finally was able to climb back into a sitting position on the chair continuing to gasp for air and feeling the crotch of my panties fill with my juice.

As I bent forward to allow more blood to find its way back into my brain, Benjamin took a magic marker from the tray of the erasable board on the wall and wrote "I QUIT" on my lower back just above my very red cheeks.

He then placed his cell phone in front of my face showing me all of the photos that he had recorded from the party along with this meeting and with a very smug expression hit 'erase' on his photo app. They were now all gone except for one of me bending slightly over the chair.

"For my personal use only, Ms. Harley." He said, and I just knew that he would not be using it as blackmail ever again.

Although it most certainly would be used for more private reasons of which I didn't even want to think about.

He then scooped up my dress and left saying, "You will be able to find your dress in my father's office which is just a few doors down the hall.

I quickly ran to the door that Benjamin left wide open when he left with my dress. I then spent the next 15 minutes or so rubbing my violated backside and recovering from my sexual release.

My string bikini panties were soaked with the liquid evidence of my orgasm leaving a clear smudge on the seat of the chair.

I have become some version of erotic kitten leaving my mark on inanimate objects.

What the hell just happened! I couldn't even begin to understand. 

And why did Benjamin write "I quit" on my backside since no one was around to see it.

To say that I was a mental mess would be an understatement, but I gathered myself as best I could knowing that it was time to leave............hopefully without being detected.

As the burning and stinging finally ebbed and the odor of my orgasm waned, I gingerly opened the door a crack to see if anyone was still around. Thankfully most everyone had gone home, and those remaining all seemed to be on the opposite end of the floor giving me ample opportunity to hide behind the cubicle walls as I made my way to Mr. Whitmore's (Benjamin's father) office.

I figured that once I retrieved my dress, I was home free and vowed to never put myself in a situation like this or any other ever again.

I slowly opened the door to his father's office and there was my dress thrown across one of his undoubtedly overly expensive desk lamps. I quickly grabbed it for the first time realizing that my nipples were still poking out above the fabric of my bra. I pushed them back into their cups, pulled my dress back on and left. 

To say that my drive home was uncomfortable would be an understatement, but an ice cold bath and plenty of lotion eased my reddened cheeks although doing nothing for my confused state of mind.

I am certainly getting a sense for who I no longer am if I ever was that person, and am afraid to uncover the person that I really am. At least it seems that my little adventures have ended, or so I thought...



The Panty Perils of Me 05





I am home for the weekend giving me the chance to forget about all of my forced exposure over the past few weeks along with fulfilling my resolve to never do it again. 

The hormonal gang of teens seems to be off doing other things particularly since the local pools have opened for the summer and now they have plenty of bikini wearing girls to ogle. 

In a way I am a little disappointed at being replaced, however I now have the playground to myself again. 

And as for the professor, I think he might be enjoying the photos that he took of me within the privacy of his home along with a bottle of hand lotion and a big box of Kleenex.

I do have plans to contact Arnold, but am putting it off until I am sure that I am back in control of myself.

And the better news is that Benjamin resigned from his father's company the day following his encounter with my bottom. It seems that he was smart enough to know that despite the secret that he held over me, his career still wasn't going anywhere. And his "I Quit' note written on my backside came off in the shower.

So it seems that everything is back to my idea of normal and that my clothes get to stay on.

I have been spending the day with my family at a local art fair wearing a casual red blouse emblazoned with quail along with a pair of nice fitting jeans and red heels. 

Yes, I am one of those women that essentially wear heels with everything. My father kept a collection of pin up calendars from the 50's in his basement workshop and I used to sneak peeks at them whenever no one was around. These scantily clad ladies always had on heels and it seems that they have influenced me in possibly more ways than one.

I can feel my cell phone vibrating in my jeans pocket, so I reach in and look to see who might be calling. It is a number that I don't recognize, so I answer it.

Undoubtedly not the smartest thing that I do on a regular basis, but I am too curious to stop myself.

The caller identifies himself as Mr. Jack Whitmore, whose name sounds vaguely familiar. He tells me that he is Benjamin's father and the lights go on.

This is the man who Benjamin couldn't stand, which more or less resulted in my very red bottom and soaked panties.

I try to push the later memory out of my mind as I ask, "How can I help you?"

Mr. Whitmore tells me that he and his daughter have not heard from Benjamin since he left his resignation notice on my back.

I almost drop the phone at his statement making it quite clear that he either knew about Benjamin and my little meeting or saw me with the words "I quit" printed on my bareback while in his office.

Mr. Whitmore asks me for the sake of his daughter if I would come into his office as soon as possible. I try to explain that I am out with my family but his plea to help his daughter touches my heart and I agree.

From where we are it is only a short walk to Mr. Whitmore's office, so I tell my husband as little about the reason that I need to go and promise to meet with him as soon as I can.

How could I possibly explain that a resignation was printed in magic marker across my bare back shortly after I had received a sound spanking wearing only my underwear?

The memory sends a sudden tingling right between my legs and I try to ignore it.

"I am not that kind of woman." I try to convince myself as I head down the street.

Shortly I arrive at Mr. Whitmore's company and enter the front doors. I am surprised to see a receptionist there although she explains that she is Mr. Whitmore's personal secretary. She is dressed in a tight fitting navy blue business suit with a beautiful pin striped blouse that is unbuttoned just to the top of her bra.

The fuchsia colored lace of her bra cups poke provocatively from her exposed neckline.

The skirt of her suit just borders on the line of business appropriate as it ends at the middle of her thigh.

Her makeup is perfect; her hair is perfectly styled; and there is no doubt that she keeps herself in shape.

"Quite a personal secretary." I think to myself as I follow her to Mr. Whitmore's office. 

Her particular style and appearance should have given me some premonition of what was to come. 

She tentatively knocks on Mr. Whitmore's open door and we hear a voice telling us to enter. Much to my surprise he is with another man, who soon is identified as their head of security.

My entire body goes rigid as every muscle freezes in place.

"Why would the head of security be present unless everything was caught on tape." 

My head feels like it is about to explode imagining these two men and who knows who else watched me strip, get spanked, and orgasm.

I have always tried to be the perfect model of decorum priding myself on my level headedness and ability to behave in a proper manner. But ever since the chain of events that begun so many weeks ago, I have lost myself to a much baser and very primal desire to act out sexually despite my belief that I have had no other choice. 

Mr. Dempsey is a well-dressed businessman in his early 60's who could lose about 40 lbs. His suit fits perfectly hiding the extra weight that he bears. Although he is only about 5'8" tall he still commands your attention with his steely set eyes and direct manner of staring right through you.

His had of security is dressed in black trousers and a tight fitting black t-shirt. Obviously he had been called in on his day off as well.

He is an imposing figure in his late 40's, standing well over 6 ' tall and extremely muscular.

I am immediately intimidated by both of them.

The office itself is a study in modern design with chrome and leather furnishings making it a bit cold and rather clinical.

As my head fills with an overwhelming dread I hear Mr. Dempsey (the head of security) explain that my little unclothed foray into Mr. Whitmore's office was caught on tape as the security cams automatically turn on after office hours.

I audibly exhale in relief over this fact. It seems that my performance in the conference room was still confined to two witnesses i.e. Benjamin and myself, although how do I explain my state of undress while entering Mr. Whitmore's office.

No sooner as the thought enters my brain, Mr. Dempsey asks why I was traipsing the halls of their company in just my lingerie and how did my dress find its way into Mr. Whitmore's office?

The flush of embarrassment that covers me form head to toe only adds to my inability to come up with a viable reason for my state of undress.

Mr. Dempsey goes on to explain the fact that the company deals with patents and copyrights, so it is very important to examine any violation of their security measures.

"So this has nothing to do with Benjamin." I quickly realize.

The only reason that I agreed to this meeting was a lie.

I still can't come up with an explanation for my previous nudity and continue to stand in front of the two men speechless and dumbfounded.

"You are here today so that we can determine why you were in my office and what other than your dress did you possibly see or take. It wouldn't be the first time that we have been subject to corporate espionage." Mr. Whitmore states matter of factly to me.

I try to explain that Benjamin and I had a severe misunderstanding resulting in him depositing my dress in his office and that I was only trying to retrieve it so I could go home.

It certainly doesn't explain my state of undress and we all know it.

Mr. Dempsey tells me to lean over the arms of one of the chrome and leather designer chairs in the office, as he needs to frisk me. 

In a voice shaking with emotion I start to tell them that I would never steal anything from the company and even if I had, why would I have any evidence on me now? 

Just as my first words of explanation start to leave my mouth, Mr. Dempsey roughly pushes me onto the chair so both arms support my body as I lean across the chair.

The entire time Mr. Whitmore just stares with a look of complete satisfaction.

Mr. Dempsey proceeds to frisk me by placing his hands around my torso sliding them down the front of my shirt realizing immediately that I am not wearing a bra as his ogre hands detect my hardening nipples through the cotton fabric of my shirt.

I immediately start to voice my objection and am told to "Be quiet!"

I bite my lower lip as his hands slip down to my waist and I feel his fingers take a hold of the fabric of my jeans ripping my front snap open. My entire body tenses in disbelief as the force of his tug pulls the zipper of my jeans completely apart.

As I futilely try to hold on to my opening pants, Mr. Dempsey orders me to keep my hands on the arm of the chair.

I am shaking and on the verge of tears, but comply with his orders to remain still.

He takes a hold of the waistband and pulls my jeans down off of my hips and buttocks revealing my bright red bikini panties to both him and Mr. Whitmore.

My entire body reacts to Mr. Dempsey's forced removal of my pants.

I feel so helpless and vulnerable and at the same time, so very alive.

My jeans are unceremoniously yanked down my thighs, and I am instructed to lift one leg and then the other as Mr. Dempsey slides them off of my legs and throws them into the corner of the office.

Any sense of modesty or sanctity leaves me as the last bit of fabric is pulled from my extended leg.

I hear Mr. Whitmore utter "Very nice" as I am fully revealed from the waist down for his voyeuristic pleasure.

My humiliation knows no bounds as Mr. Dempsey again frisks me, but this time his large hands reach under my shirt and his fingers pinch each one of my now very erect nubs.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stifle the moan that wants to escape my lips.

With two fingers he traps each of my nipples and squeezes them sending shockwaves of tingling, uninviting pleasure into my groin.

His hands then move down my stomach, over my belly button, and across my lower abdomen, getting closer and closer to my nylon covered kitty.

I suck in my stomach and hold my breath as if this will stop his progress downward. 

He cups my mound with one large paw grinning to the CEO saying, "There seems to be a small knot hidden here", as his fingers push against my lower lips.

My entire body flushes in mortification. How can such a degrading experience be so exciting to me?

I continue to remain motionless except for the subtle tremors of excitement going on in my crotch.

He now grips both cheeks of my bottom giving them a hard squeeze commenting on how firm they are. All I can do is remain bent over the chair and let him explore my barely covered body hoping that it will be all over soon while at the same time hating myself for wanting it to continue.

Finally he finishes feeling me up for the second time and I think that my ordeal is over.

"Well, Ms. Harley, it seems that you have a special knack for spending time undressed", Mr. Whitmore, says as he gets up from behind his desk and moves towards me. 

I feel his hand on my lower back as he traces the curve of my spine down to the top of my panties. His other hand now finds its way up along my thigh causing my flesh to quiver and goose pimple.

"How exquisite." I hear him say as he squeezes my nylon-covered buttocks placing both hands on my hips.

I am shaking so bad and can't tell whether it is from fear, humiliation or excitement as he presses his groin against my almost bare bottom. I can feel his tube of firm flesh finding its way between my cheeks as he humps me a couple of times holding firmly onto my bare hips.

I find myself again biting my lips so he can't hear my moan of pleasure knowing that he requires very little encouragement to continue.

I can feel myself getting wet just as to my horror, Mr. Whitmore, reaches up between my legs and lightly pushes against my red nylon covered crotch.

"How delightful." he exclaims as he rubs my telltale knot causing me to moan aloud.

Then out of nowhere he states, "I think that this is enough for today, Ms. Harley, however I fully expect to see some more of you in the future."

It is almost like a coitus interruptus as my body begs for more.

I can't believe that it is over and I quickly retrieve my jeans from the corner and head out of his office, not even bothering to put them back on. I am ashamed of the sexual energy emanating from me as I leave the building and head to the front door.

It isn't until I reach the reception area that I realize that I am about to step outside pantless.

At the same time Ms. Personal Secretary coos from behind the reception desk, "Did you enjoy your meeting, Ms. Harley?"

I want to shoot her a look that will kill her on the spot but I am too embarrassed to conjure up much more than a weak smile.

Then she adds a line that freezes me in my tracks, "We all loved your spanking video.



The Panty Perils of Me 06





How often do you find that you are thinking of someone or a situation that involved someone and suddenly the phone rings and it is that person on the phone?

On Thursday night I was spending some private time with myself remembering the fraternity party with Arnold.

OK, OK, I had my special massager stroking my purring kitty when my tablet chimed letting me know that I had just received an email.

The email was from Arnold stating that he needed another big favor from me and in exchange he would provide me with all of Jackie's information i.e. cell phone number and email address.

I very reluctantly pushed the off button on my intimate friend and quickly typed back, "What do you need from me?"

He wrote back saying that he needed a date to another theme party that was being held by his coed academic society. I still was so proud of Arnold for joining a fraternity that fit his personality that I had no impulse whatsoever but to say "Sure."

He explained that it was a Boss and Secretary theme and hoped that I would be his more mature secretary. It wasn't meant to be sexy as most everyone was using it as an excuse to dress in business clothes and essentially tease each other about their fashion sense.

It sounded like fun.

I wrote back that I wanted to put a little twist on the theme and asked him to wear a pair of chinos, a dress shirt, and a sleeveless sweater.

Poor Arnold replied that he was looking forward to wearing one of his father's suits again, however when I threatened to not go he conceded.

I wrote back telling him to meet me in the parking lot of the park again at 8:30 as the party started at 8:00. You never want to be the first ones there.

Yes, I like to make a special entrance particularly when it involves young hormonal charged men.

Friday night I got dressed for the party using another excuse that I was going to my monthly PTA meeting, which wasn't until two more weeks. My husband gave me a strange look regarding my attire, but had seen me in the ensemble enough times before for work that he quickly dismissed any suspicions.

As I sat in the parking lot, I saw a set of lights approaching, but waited to get out of my car to make sure that it was Arnold and I didn't want him to see me until he was parked right along side.

It was Arnold and as he stopped at the passenger side of my car, I exited walking in front of his headlights so he could see me clearly.

My twist for the party was that I was the boss and Arnold was my secretary. As a result I was wearing a black leather jacket without a bra and a matching black leather mini skirt with reptile skin high heels.

The skirt was just short enough to show a lot of my legs, but not too short to show everything.

It was something that I regularly wore to work and always received compliments on.

I thought that it was the perfect outfit to represent a dominant career woman with a potential for kink.

Arnold was perfectly speechless as he watched me slide into the front seat alongside of him. My skirt naturally bared more of my legs than when I was standing. I didn't even bother to look down, as I only needed to watch Arnold's eyes to let me know how much more of my legs had been bared.

By his look I would say that my skirt was about 4 inches below my crotch, and with a quick glance southward, I confirmed it.

Arnold's chinos had a telltale tent forming right between his legs as I said, "Hello, Arnold." Touching him on his right leg.

I absolutely love how he stammers when he is both nervous and excited.

It was so tempting to slide my hand up and verify his reaction to my leather ensemble, but I refrained.

Once he gathered his composure, he turned to me and said, "Why couldn't I wear a suit again?"

I explained that just like last time, I wanted to put a twist on things.

"Tonight" I said, "I am the boss and you are the secretary."

Arnold didn't respond, but seemed to be OK with my plan.

We ended up parking about 4 blocks from the party as the streets were filled with cars: a typical Friday night on any college campus.

Arnold almost ran around the car to open my door for me, which I thought was a part of his secretary role for the evening, but when I looked up at him I noticed where his eyes were placed.

My young date for the evening was trying to look right up my leather skirt as I exited his car.

I guess that I can't blame him as the last time that we were together he saw me in very little more than my panties.

As I moved my right leg out of the car it was only inevitable that my movement would create a space offering an unobstructed view of my black lace bikini panties.

Arnold stared at the opening caused by my spread legs.

"See something you like?" I asked with a smirk.

Arnold blushed and mumbled something sounding like "I, I, er, um, yes, I mean"

I will admit that I revel in the knowledge that a young man in his 20's wants to see me unveiled. When a woman reaches her 40's so often we feel that our looks have deteriorated and we are no longer sexy.

I think that this is why I enjoy being with Arnold. He is so good for my ego.

I let my legs remain slightly splayed as I listened to Arnold mumble and noted that his eyes never left my upskirt position.

I swear that I could feel heat forming between my legs as if Arnold had x ray vision.

I climbed out of the car wrapping my arm in his and let him escort me to our destination.

We headed to the student Union as the party was being held in the main ballroom. I felt quite different than the first time. My insecurities where gone and I was looking forward to an evening with a group of 20 year olds.

We entered the Union and just like last time, everyone stared at Arnold and myself. I am sure that the sight of someone my age at a university party is quite rare, although from some of the discussion that I overheard during the course of the evening, it seems that my reputation had preceded me.

The thought of being in just a pair of panties and an open jacket was quite intoxicating particularly since the memory of last time has resulted in so many wonderful orgasms.

I reminded myself that I was no longer that person as a delicious quivering sensation brought my lower lips to full bloom.

Yeah, I'm not that person all right.

I literally shook my head to clear the memories and looked around the large ballroom where most of the couples were located.

I was quite impressed with many of the couples as we were not the only ones with a gender role change and many of the young women had worn some very sexy secretary outfits.

What was so different from the first party was the intelligence level was much higher and it wasn't so sexually charged.

Still I got Arnold into his role right away by ordering him to get me a drink, find me a place to sit, get me something to eat, etc.

He fell into it perfectly making me realize that he would actually make a very good personal secretary.

I did add a little spice to the party, as I would frequently slap his bottom telling him to "hurry along" or grab the front of his belt to pull him close as if to make sure he understood my requests.

After a while I noticed many of the other female bosses emulating my methods and often as our eyes would meet, they would smile at me.

It seems that I wasn't the only one with a naughty mind.

The party was a lot of fun but ended too quickly as I wasn't quite ready to go home feeling frustrated that all of my clothes were still on. 

Did I just admit that??

As we headed down the main stairs of the Union, I remembered to ask him about Jackie's information. I was feeling a bit tipsy from the alcohol, which for me is usually accompanied by horniness.

I really wasn't ready to go home.

We were on the second flight of stairs as the ballroom was located on the 3rd floor when I stopped walking. Arnold immediately noticed that I wasn't following him and turned around towards me.

I couldn't seem to stop myself as I asked in a very loud voice while at the same time unbuttoning the back button of my skirt and pulling the zipper down, "Did you say that I had to show you my panties to get Jackie's information?"

Arnold started to reply that he never had said that, but it was already too late.

With a simple shake of my hips and bottom, my black leather skirt descended towards the marble stair that I was standing on and I felt Arnold's eyes caress my legs all of the way up to my already swelling lips.

Arnold's look was exactly what I had wanted all night as he stood agape and transfixed on my black lace covered crotch.

I wish that I could explain the look that sends vibrations into my lower regions causing my nub to push out of its cover begging for attention.

It makes me feel like I am the sexiest woman on the planet. It is absolutely addicting to see a man's eyes cover every inch of my exposure giving me one large goosebump in a very sensitive place.

The mouth slightly open with a smile of extreme satisfaction makes my stomach flutter in a nervous state of excitement.

I always knew but wouldn't accept the fact that I am an exhibitionist and love to be looked at.

"Oops!'" I cooed as I stepped out of my skirt, turning around with my partially exposed cheeks facing towards him. I then slowly bent over to retrieve my skirt from the stair knowing full well that Arnold liked asses, particularly mine.

Arnold was still frozen in place as I sauntered past him skirtless saying" Let's get Jackie's info. OK?"

I literally sashayed without a skirt to sashay in down the stairs of the union walking through the open study area where students either sat in groups on large sofas or by themselves in overstuffed chairs.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see heads turn, as my jacket didn't quite reach to the bottom of my exposed butt making it look like I was wearing a too short black leather wrap dress.

Arnold didn't quite know what to do as my impromptu striptease had brought him a lot of attention as well.

He continued to walk with me as I said aloud; "I can't believe that you are making me show my panties to everyone in this Union just to satisfy your perverted desires."

As I said this for everyone to hear I threw my leather skirt at him striking him in the face.

I was in absolute heaven.

On the other hand, poor Arnold was beside himself being caught up in very contradictory feelings of voyeurism and embarrassment.

We reached the front door of the Union and headed for his car with me leading the way and Arnold following as best he could.

The four block long walk aroused all of my latent desires for exhibitionism as the night air made me fully aware of how much bare skin was exposed.

Once we reached the car, Arnold unlocked my door and I poked my head into his car first giving him a close up view of my pantied backside. His little gasp brought a smile to my face.

Bending further forward allowing my jacket to rise fully above my waist and still staying in character I asked, "Is the information somewhere in here?",

Arnold's view was now filled with my bare high-heeled legs, and tiny black lace panties that barely covered my round cheeks allowing the top of my lower crevice to show above the fabric.

I was not playing nice for this poor impressionable and hormonal young man.

Having not received a response to my question, I pulled my head back out of the car and turned facing him.

I grabbed the fabric of his chinos right where his penis would be and easily found his rigid reaction to my impromptu striptease.

I wrapped my fingers completely around his erection saying, "I need that information, Arnold! I must have it."

Arnold tried to respond but obviously his mind was preoccupied with the placement of my hand around his male protuberance.

I was having way too much fun to even realize the effect that my little game might be having on poor Arnold.

Without even thinking I undid the belt of my black leather jacket, which was the only thing keeping it closed. My actions resulted in my jacket opening to reveal my upper torso from the neck to the top elastic of my black panties. The only hindrance keeping my jacket from opening fully were two very erect nipples clinging to the silk lining.

I was now fully out of control or fully into my role-play or both.

I wanted to feel Arnold's erection in my hand as it began to pulse as he ejaculated outdoors in this campus neighborhood of fraternity and sorority houses.

I wanted to see the spurt of white crème splash across the sidewalk leaving its earthly odor to linger into the night.

I had wanted this when I first got into his car tonight, but wouldn't admit it to myself. 

Arnold deserved it and so did I.

Now I was going to let my desires take over.

I took a hold of Arnold's zipper pulling it southward while at the same time reaching into the fly opening of his boxers freeing his enlarged snake from its hole.

"OMG", I thought to myself seeing that he definitely wasn't a shrinking violet at least in the erection department.

His penis was a deep red with a prominent mushroom shaped head pointing skyward. I wrapped my fingers around his long shaft and begged him to tell me what I needed to know.

I stepped into him allowing his erection to rub across my bare belly as I begged him repeatedly to let me have the information.

With a simple shrug of my shoulders my leather jacket opened completely revealing tow extremely hard nipples that could cut glass.

I was again with Arnold in just a pair of panties and heels.

I pushed my body into Arnold's feeling the cotton of his sweater rub against my throbbing nipples.

My other hand undid his belt and clasp allowing his pants to descend downward to his ankles. I then stuck my fingers through the opening of his boxers reaching under his testicles and finding the prominent ridge of his scrotum. Two of my fingers pushed on the ridge and I could feel the first telltale spasm course through his erection indicating an eminent eruption.

I slid my other hand to the top of his rigid tube of flesh gripping him just under the well-formed head and stroked him from top to bottom as his entire body matched the rigidity of his manhood.

I knew that it was time to move my almost naked body out of the way or I was going to get splashed.

I could feel the first rush of liquid rise up inside him while squeezing him firmly and then releasing allowing a tendril of white goo to squirt across the sidewalk landing over 8 feet away.

It was so erotic and forbidden. I could feel my own response to his eruption starting to soak through my black lace.

Arnold was in complete ecstasy as he arched his entire body as if to make his erection the focal point of his physical form.

I stroked and he squirted over and over again.

I met his chorus of "Yes, Yes, Yes" with my own as my entire body shook with excitement.

I had never seen anything so sexy in my life as I watched Arnold's body completely taken over by his orgasm.

It wasn't until his vat of joy juice was depleted did either of us notice three couples from the party standing only 20 feet from us with the most incredulous look on their faces.

Without a doubt they had seen the entire performance.

With both sets of our eyes wide open in shock, Arnold quickly pulled up his pants and put himself away while a grabbed my skirt off of the ground where Arnold had dropped it and climbed into the passenger side of the car.

Arnold joined me as soon as everything was back in place and off we went.

I turned to him and we both laughed hysterically until tears formed in our eyes.

Before I left his car to get into mine, I was given all of Jackie's information with Arnold letting me know that she would be contacting me as he had given her my email address.

As before I leaned over giving Arnold a kiss on his cheek. Surprisingly he awkwardly grabbed me wrapping his arms around me and thanked me for everything especially the part before we got into his car to leave.

I pushed a hand down upon the very center of his lap and gave him a squeeze on his reviving penis whispering to him, "It was my pleasure."

And I meant it.

I don't quite know why I'm not feeling guilty for my lewd performance. Maybe it is just a matter of time, but for now, I had one of the best evenings of my life.

A few days later Arnold emailed me to let me know that his reputation had greatly increased since our 6 witnesses have shared their experience with all of their friends and so on and so on.

I replied with a smiley face.





The Panty Perils of Me 07





I am still literally vibrating (No, not with my massager) from last weekend.

Did I cross the line on prim and proper decorum for a mother of two? Absolutely not!

I leaped across it leaving the line in my wake of salacious desires and shameless activities.

As I am sitting at my desk at work I notice an email from an unknown address. It is addressed to me with my full name on it, so I open it.

It is a single photo of myself applying what looks like a death grip to Arnold's very in focus erection just as an endless stream of white liquid shoots from its tip.

Arnold's face is contorted in orgasmic agony, while I seem to be licking my lips.

The scene is so perfectly captured that I find myself there.

Every sound, every odor, every feeling is present again.

I force myself back to my current reality only to find one of my hands firmly gripping my crotch as a single bead of sweat rolls down between my breasts.

"I need to get a hold of myself." And then realize that I already have, but not in the way that I mean.

As I investigate a little further the email is from the Professor and it informs me that a fellow academic of his just happened to be at the Union last weekend and was able to capture some very interesting photos with his cell phone.

Both of them would like to meet me tomorrow for lunch at the park.

I can't say that I am outraged, panicky, or frightened.

I am certainly anxious about getting back with the professor, however if I have to pose for him and his friend, I am fine with that.

Surprisingly how much I have changed in the past few weeks.

I send the photo to my personal email address. I most certainly want to keep it.

I recently created a private email account to preserve the collection of photos that I now have, and find great enjoyment in looking through them; another big change for me.

.

The instructions are to appear at the park tomorrow afternoon at the entrance to one of the more secluded walking paths.

Tomorrow arrives and I make my way to the park knowing full well that I am going to be asked to strip for his salacious eyes once again. I have come to realize that his photos of me scantily clad aren't the real subject that he wants to capture. It is much more the look of humiliation and hopelessness that I wear on my face that seems to excite him.

Is this what excites me as well?

As I arrive at the entrance to the path, I am greeted by my voyeuristic neighbor and his friend.

His friend is very much like him; distinguished looking, intelligent, with a hint of lechery in his smile.

My stomach lurches at the sight of both of them.

Yesterday I thought that this wasn't any big deal, but now that I am here alone, my stomach is telling me something else.

Well standing there in front of both of them already feeling undressed, my neighbor smugly turns to his friend and says, "Go ahead, and tell her what to do. She will do as she is told." 

I resent his implications but find no power to voice my complaint.

His companion is a bit more aggressive than himself and instead of telling me what to do; he walks over to me taking a hold of the front of my skirt and forcibly pulls the clasp apart which at the same time forces the teeth of my zipper to separate. His hand is just a mere inches from my nylon covered mound as he yanks my skirt down to my thighs while stating matter of factly, "Well, that was well worth the effort" as he stares at my bare stomach and lilac colored bikini panties.

I find myself frozen in place, as he has not only stripped me of my skirt, but of my dignity as well. 

Why I stood there without voicing any objection to his actions is unexplainable to me. The fact that I found a warm liquid starting to develop between my legs made the experience even more humiliating. 

The full realization that although I consider myself a very strong and independent woman, belies the fact that I still find myself totally submitting to these men; abandoning my own sense of identity to become their little playmate or pin up; accompanied by an almost unbridled excitement that inhabits my erogenous zones as I succumb to their prurient wishes.

My skirt finds its own way down the remainder of my bare legs and settles onto the crushed rock walking path.

I have brought my heels in a separate bag since I knew that it would be difficult for me to walk in them on this path and I didn't want to appear as if I purposely dressed for their pleasure.

I am told to put my heels on as they get their cameras ready. I try to change into my heels without exposing myself further, however my pair of very tight fitting panties slide up my cheeks with every little movement exposing my flesh well above my more modest tan lines.

Just a brief sidebar to the fit of a woman's panties; in this case mine.

After my second child was born, I worked very hard to lose the extra weight that I had gained and fully succeeded except for one aspect.

Many women find that after having children everything becomes a bit flatter and saggy. 

In my own case my butt became rounder and a little bigger, changing how my undies fit me.

Now many of us are a little too obsessed with numbers and I just wasn't ready to move to a bigger size as I found the extra material to bunch up between my legs. I enjoyed how my usual smaller size fit.

Now instead of having full coverage on my backside, with only a little movement, the material slips up into my crevice turning my panties into a version of "cheekies"

And besides my husband tells me that I now have incredible panty lines.

The photo attached to this story should bear my explanation out.

Now aren't you glad that I stopped the story to explain this to you? J

I am instructed to assume various poses which essentially has me either sticking my booty out to their echo of lewd remarks about my very spankable cheeks or sitting as if being outside in a pair of teeny panties is a natural occurrence for me.

OK, OK, but considering that all of this has occurred in the last few weeks and I am 40 years old, it really hasn't been as common an occurrence as you would think.

When they are finished with my forced photo session a very uncomfortable silence comes over them and I sense that my little ordeal isn't quite over.

The professor's friend sits down on a wooden timber ledge and motions for me to approach him.

I would be extremely uncomfortable if I were fully dressed and the fact that I am almost naked form the waist down makes his request almost unbearable.

I look at the professor as my eyes plead for help, but to no avail.

He obviously knows what is about to happen next and is pleased about it.

I slowly walk towards his friend. As I get close enough for him to touch me, he takes a hold of my arm and pulls me forward until my panties are close enough for him to smell.

Why do these events excite me so much? I know that I am leaking with anticipation and have been since he pulled my skirt down.

He manually directs me placing my quivering body across his lap with my crawling up panties facing upward saying, "I have been wanting to do this ever since you took your skirt off." 

"I took my skirt off? I want to scream. The way he yanked at the clasp and zipper I am not sure whether I will be able to wear it again.

My outrage is short lived as the first resounding smack of his bare hand across my ample cheek sends a bolt of pain and shame throughout my entire body. I arch my back squeezing my gluteal muscles together as tightly as possible letting out a yelp of surprise and utter disbelief.

His second smack lights up my other exposed cheek with more burning pain and despair.

The experience of being treated like a young schoolgirl while at the same time being ogled as a fully-grown woman creates such an erotic contradiction in my mind that I feel I am dreaming. Albeit a very naughty kind of dream that wakes me up all sweaty and extremely horny.

I kick my legs and cry out in pain totally mortified by my very public punishment, while his resounding smacks continue to rain down on my unprotected buttocks.

Once again the desire to be punished for my shameful nature floods through my brain while the vibration of each painful smack resonates throughout my body.

The pain and embarrassment act as a cleansing agent for my soul and I relish its intoxicating mixture.

As tears fill my eyes, I am no longer aware of the pain, however the continuous vibration of my spanked bare cheeks is radiating downward to a very sensitive area awakening my sex.

Another smack reigns down and I feel my fully swollen lower lips opening. My nipples and nub are at full attention.

In a vain attempt to stifle my building orgasm, I cross my legs squeezing my thighs together.

It only increases the unexpected stimulation.

I cry out again, but this time it is not the pain that echoes from my open mouth. It is my orgasm arriving in full force.

To the professor I probably look like an undressed woman having a seizure as I act like a fish out of water; flopping, rolling, and shaking on his friend's lap.

He stops spanking me, although I want more, and watches my entire body convulse in the throes of a most violent orgasm.

Saliva flies from my mouth as I gasp for air to support my spent muscles. 

Tears flow freely from my eyes as a delicious post orgasmic energy passes through my body giving every muscle the ability to relax.

I hang limply from my spankers lap with my legs wide apart while my arms extend to the ground.

I can feel his own reaction to my lewd display as his erection pushes into my side.

I slowly rise from my spread position and stand drenched in sweat seeing both the professor and his friend with their eyes wide open and mouths agape.

I also notice that the Professor also sports a rigid tent pole in the front of his khakis.

No words are exchanged as we all knew what has just happened as the evidence is fully supported by a wet spot left on front of both my spanker's pants as well as between my legs.

I pick up my skirt and walk back down the path oblivious to my state of undress, get into my car, and sit for another 30 minutes before safety pinning my ripped zipper back together and returning to work.

I am asked why my face is so flushed and I try to explain that I might have gotten too much sun as I took a walk over the lunch hour.

As I sit and stare blankly at my computer screen an email from Jackie appears.

"My God, where is all of this taking me?" 



The Panty Perils of Me 08





Ever since our last get together, Arnold has been emailing me constantly hoping to meet for coffee, or lunch, or anything.

How novel that a young male college student would want to see me again after I applied a strangle hold on his penis causing him to splash his spunk all over the sidewalk. And in the process of my performance on his erection, I was wearing nothing but heels, panties and an open leather jacket with my equally erect nipples on full display.

I just can't imagine why he would want to see me again.

What is an out of control woman supposed to do?

What has changed for me since my date with Arnold succeeded by my outdoor spanking in front of the professor is my style of dreams be they day or night dreams.

I see myself again with Arnold, barely dressed as usual, gripping his penis until he is about to explode. Only this time instead of stepping to the side removing myself from the spray zone, I quickly drop to my knees, opening my mouth wide and catching every last drop savoring the taste of his male secretions like a fine wine.

I want to taste him, and considering how much fluid he left on the sidewalk, I am bound to get a very full taste.

Although these thoughts persist daily, I am bothered that I am having them. 

I would like to believe that this just isn't like me, but I can't as I don't know what is really like me anymore.

Every so often when I am on my knees feeling the spurt of hot earthy goo hit the back of my throat, I look up into the eyes of my ejaculator and is has become the professor.

Thankfully I am meeting with Jackie today for coffee, which should provide me a respite from my erotic fantasies.

I can't believe that I just wrote this, as the reason I want to meet with Jackie is to explore my erotic fantasies. Well, at least I will have something else to think about.

We meet at a coffee shop just off of campus.

Jackie is already there when I arrive. She absolutely fills the room with her presence with her jet-black hair, which has recently been shaven to her scalp on the right side. She has on a white fish net sleeveless tee and an almost transparent black bra underneath putting her very pert little nipples on display. A black denim micro mini skirt with high heeled combat boots complete her display of "I don't give a shit what you think."

I feel a quivering right between my legs the moment that I see her.

She smiles and waves me over.

For the next 30 minutes I am like a schoolgirl as I simply gush with superlatives about her ability to just be who she wants to be. I tell her that I have always wished to be that kind of person. 

It is embarrassing at how much I envy her. After all she is almost half my age.

When I finally stop exuding superlatives about her, she asks me "What or who do you want to be?

I am silent for a long time, and when I do respond, it isn't to answer the question that she asked, but to share with her my latest adventures that started so long ago at my daughter's teacher's conferences.

I can tell that she enjoys listening to my narrative as well as the change in my demeanor as I relate every little detail.

"Look at you, Elizabeth. You are so excited and uninhibited as you tell me your stories. Your entire body is glowing," she says to me.

There is no doubt that I feel different. 

Every pore of my being is vibrating with a most delicious energy.

Jackie then asks me what I enjoyed most about all of my experiences. Without thinking I respond with a shaking voice, "I like being stripped or told to strip."

"Well, let's go test this right now.' Jackie replies.

She grabs her black motorcycle jacket throwing it over her shoulders and takes a hold of my arm whisking me away from the tiny storefronts and shops that border the campus. Soon we are on a walking path that connects some of the dorms with each other. It is bordered by woods and bushes making it much more secluded than a location in the middle of campus would ordinarily be.

It is not exactly the ideal kind of day to be outside as it is overcast and the ground is wet from a recent rain.

Jackie directs me to sit down on a fallen tree. I place my raincoat on the tree and sit on top of it to prevent my dress from getting wet.

Jackie faces me and says, "Unbutton your dress until it is completely unbuttoned to your belt.

I comply immediately without any hesitation. Once the first two buttons are undone, the flaps of my dress move apart with each additional button. The third button reveals my lower thighs. The fourth button reveals my upper thighs.

A blotchy red coloring is forming on my exposed skin in reaction to the cold and damp air sliding across it.

The fifth button shows my crotch encased in the pale blue nylon fabric of my string bikini panties.

Although my legs are covered with goosebumps, there is nothing cold in the most recent of my uncovered areas. A delectable heat is forming between my legs eliminating any recognition of the colder temperatures.

The sixth button reveals the entire front of my panties. Jackie compliments me on my choice of undies saying, "A pastel color for a spring day, how perfect."

Her voice sends shivers through me as I reach for the last button and push its face through the opening.

As I let go of my dress, the flaps move apart to their maximum and my c-section scar as well as my navel are now on full display.

She tells me to put my hands at my side so as not to cover myself up.

"Lunch time is just about here which will bring a stream of students and professors down this path as they make their way either to class or from class. I want you to sit perfectly still as you are and allow everyone to see your very sexy exposure." 

"I am going to sit down the path a ways and watch how you react." She adds and then walks away.

I am trembling and tingling from head to toe with nervous anticipation, excitement, and utter dread.

As the first group of students approaches me, my mind takes over almost yelling, "I can't do this." I quickly close the flaps of my dress with my hands insuring that they stay in place as everyone walks by.

Again my mind yells, "What are you doing? You are a 40 year old woman and acting like a little slut."

As if in response my lower lips quiver in such an obscene manner that I think I might orgasm.

The tingling just intensifies as another group of students pass by. Then what I assume to be a professor approaches. He looks to be in his early 50's carrying an air of extreme self-confidence and control.

I am fixated on him, as he seems to be walking directly towards me.

He stops just in front of me and lingers gazing at me from head to foot noticing that my dress is unbuttoned all of the way to my waist despite the fact that my hands are doing a fair job of keeping the folds together.

I am captivated by the look of intelligence on his face as he sits down on the fallen tree beside me.

"I sense that you might be in the midst of a quandary." He says to me.

I shake my head to indicate that he is correct.

" I am a professor and therapist of human psychology specializing in sexual tendencies and fetishes," he goes on to explain.

"You have that look of so many of my patients when they are experiencing an inner turmoil of do's and don'ts.

I open up to him as if we have known each other for years.

Our conversation fits so seamlessly into my recent awakening as we talk about people's fetishes and hidden desires. 

Before I am really aware of how I got to this point, my hands are trembling almost uncontrollably and I release the hold of the folds of my dress letting gravity take over as each fold makes its way down the side of my upper thighs.

His unspoken but clearly sensed desire to control along with my desire to submit have met at a crossroads resulting in a rush of damp cold air seductively assaulting my bare legs as my dress easily parts all of the way to my lower rib cage.

The look of pleasure in his eyes as he relishes this image of my own making sends unexpected shivers of excitement throughout my entire body.

I can feel the effect my exposure is having on me and quickly cross my legs to hide any evidence of my state of arousal.

I can't speak as he slowly takes in the extent of my exposure making no pretense to hide his pleasure.

" Do you always wear such sexy panties? he inquires as if asking about any ordinary article of clothing.

I reply that I enjoy feeling sexy.

"And you want to show off?" he continues.

I don't know how to respond and he changes the subject.

"Is this a scar from a c-section?" he asks me extending his fingers towards the lowest part of my abdomen. I subconsciously lean back making my bare stomach more accessible to his touch and feel his fingers slide seductively across my scar only inches from my opening lower lips.

My moan is almost silent, but the uncrossing of my legs still sends my unspoken message.

I am about to allow this man access to any part of me that he wants when I hear Jackie's voice, "Lawrence, I see that you have met Elizabeth."

As if awakening from a dream, I look down and see Lawrence's fingers gliding across my scar while my stomach convulses as if in orgasm.

I stammer, "You two know each other?"

Lawrence replies that our meeting was a little more than a coincidence as Jackie told him that I would be here today and wanted us to meet.

My head is swimming with this revelation and I don't know how to react.

"I really have to be on my way, so I will let Jackie fill you in a little", he adds.

In the act of standing up Lawrence's hand brushes the front of my pale blue panties sending a wave of very pleasant shivers down between my legs.

I watch him walk away feeling slightly let down and exceedingly horny.

Jackie than sits down beside me and tells me her story. When she first came to the university she was every bit as confused as I seem to be even to the point of considering suicide. A student counselor referred her to Lawrence and he was able to free her from her self-doubts and become the person that I have become so enthralled by.

She thought that it would be of great benefit to me if I worked with Lawrence as well. So she planned this little meeting.

I sarcastically reply, "So you felt it necessary for me to have my panties on display to meet with him?

With a devilish grin, Jackie reaches between my legs sliding her hand right up against my nylon covered kitty exclaiming, "It seems that you enjoyed your meeting. Am I right?"

My soaked crotch is all of the response that she needed.

Jackie reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a card that is a bit worse for wear with Lawrence's address, email, and phone number, handing it to me.

"I really think that you should give him a call, " she says.

Right now I am sitting at home staring at Lawrence's card remembering how the touch of his fingers on my lower abdomen had created such a hypnotizing effect on me. I felt so utterly free not worrying about what anyone might think of me or even caring.

It was absolutely intoxicating.

I would like to be upset with Jackie for playing such a game with me, but it is virtually impossible.

Now should I email or call Dr. Lawrence Thrasher? 



The Panty Perils of Me 09





I have met with Dr. Thrasher a number of times now, although not as his patient.  He said that he would prefer to have me as a study case instead.  
I am fine with this since I am getting all of the benefits of therapy without having to pay, although I am wondering what the real reason is that he would prefer to not have me as his patient.

I do need to admit something though.  Dr. Thrasher has told me that it is important that I not feel ashamed of myself and to embrace my activities as a part of my true self.
So I have a little confession to make.

I only told you half of the story as Jackie and I sat on the fallen tree after Dr. T left us.
I did tell you that she had reached between my legs to feel how wet I was.  What I didn’t tell you was that she kept her hand there.  More specifically, she kept her fingers pushing right up against my g chord, if you understand my reference.
I was excited.  More excited than I had been in a while, which is saying a lot.
Jackie found my rigid little chord immediately and began playing a most erotic tune.

She did this thing with her fingers gently rubbing me through my panties from the top of my open lips down to the bottom.  I was so wet that the nylon fabric clung like a second skin to all of my swollen parts, so I could feel her fingers gliding across my extending nub, driving me crazy.
Once she had my lips fully parted she started to vibrate her two fingers right on top of my throbbing chord creating a sensation much more intense than any vibrator I have ever used.
There was no doubt that she knew how to play my instrument.

I turned towards her burying my head into her shoulder and spreading my knees as wide as I could.  She just kept strumming my chord until my breathing changed to something akin to a locomotive rushing towards oblivion.
Somehow Jackie knew all of the signs of the onrushing orgasm about to invade my body.  My crotch was making a splooching kind of sound as she continued to work her magic.

Knowing that at any time another group of witnesses might happen upon our vignette of debauchery only served to quicken the pace of my excitement.

It felt like being in another world; one that is made up of pure sexual pleasure.

All five senses were fully engaged in the sensations of my approaching orgasm.  I was whimpering like a sex starved animal into Jackie’s shoulder begging her to vibrate her fingers faster and faster over my hard knot.

The first orgasm (Yes, I said first orgasm) hit me like a tsunami and as I squeezed my thighs together as tightly as possible to increase the sensation, Jackie expertly balled up her hand allowing me to trap it right up against my open lips.
I did a very poor job of stifling my loud groan of ecstasy trying not to bite her shoulder as my entire body convulsed with pleasure.

It took a long time for the final convulsion to leave my body as I was now covered in sweat from the physical release.

Ordinarily that would have been that, but not for Jackie.  

Once I relaxed my thigh grip on her hand, her fingers found my chord again and continued to play.

The splooching sound became soggier as my panties were now soaked with my juice.
I felt like I might pass out form the intensity of the raw gratification taking over my body.
I pushed my crotch into Jackie’s magic fingers as if trying to impale myself on them.

I no longer cared about anything or anyone.  My full concentration was on achieving the next orgasm

It might have been after my third orgasm when I needed to lift my head up from her shoulder to take in a huge gulp of fresh air.  As I took one large breath after another, Jackie pushed her lips against mine biting me on my lower lip.
The pain was exquisite causing me to open my mouth wide in reaction to her assault.  She pushed her tongue as far as it would go into my mouth, and as I orgasmed for the fourth time, I wrapped my lips around it and sucked on it as if I wanted her to ejaculate into my mouth.

As our lips parted a long string of saliva reached from her mouth to mine.  My legs were now fully extended and wide, wide apart as Jackie took her two fingers inserting them inside the elastic of my panties and then starting at the lowest part of my open vagina brought them all of the way up to the bottom of my mound in a wiping motion.
She then took the same hand and sucked my liquid from her fingers while making an “Mmmmmmm” sound in the process.

I didn’t know what to do and was too exhausted anyway as Jackie brought her mouth up to mine again pushing her tongue inside while I sucked on my own excretions like a desert survivor suffering from dehydration.

Surprisingly no one had walked by while Jackie had her way with me.  At least I don’t think so, although I am doubtful whether I would have noticed anyway.

When she was finally finished and I had a chance to breath again, Jackie put her wet hand on my leg saying with a big smile, “Lawrence has helped me embrace the fact that I am a gay exhibitionist.”

“So what does that make me?” I thought to myself.

Thankfully Jackie reminded me to rebutton my dress, as my mind was now a pile of mush.  With her holding my hand, we walked back to my car where she planted another kiss on my lips saying, “Call me”.



So that kind of gets me to the present and my working relationship with Dr. Thrasher.

I have shared some things with him, afraid to let him know everything about me.  Heck, I don’t even know everything about me.  And now he is asking me to try some exercises while he records my reactions.

Yesterday he sent me an email asking me to wear a normal outfit with a swimming suit underneath for our regularly scheduled appointment.
We normally meet either at his office on campus or in an enclosed room designed specifically for these types of experiments i.e. no windows or furniture other than a table and chairs.
On this particular day, I was meeting with him in his office.
I put on one of my summer skirts along with a t-shirt top over my swimming suit and showed up at the appointed time.

We talked for a little while and then he told me that he wanted to try a specific exercise with me.  “Is that OK with you?” he asked and I nodded.
“ I want you to strip in front of me to just your swimming suit and heels while at the same time telling me what you are feeling as you remove your clothing.” He said.

I wasn’t quite sure if I had heard him correctly as I stood in front of him with a questioning look on my face.
He repeated, “I am trying to find out what your sexual behaviors are and how you feel about them.  So take off your t-shirt and skirt one at a time while you tell me exactly what is going through your mind as well as any physical reactions that you are experiencing as you strip.”

I wanted to act ignorant again, but I understood exactly what he was asking me to do.
“So you want me to start telling you everything going on inside of me right now?” I asked.
Dr. Thrasher answered, “Exactly, starting right now.”

So I began my narrative for him:

“I am feeling a mixture of anxiety, wondering why I should do this, and at the same time excited.  I have knots in my stomach thinking about undressing in front of you particularly since I was taught early on that certain behaviors like stripping for someone is not considered appropriate.  And it certainly isn’t something that any woman should ever feel excited about.
But it is exactly these thoughts that make me want to do it.
I want to feel bad, naughty, even wicked.  I want to be seen as sexy and leered at by men.”

I reached for the bottom of my t-shirt pulling it up over my head and then sliding it off of my arms.  My nipples were already at full attention pushing provocatively against the unlined material of my triangle bra.
I sat down on a high chair that Dr. Thrasher had placed in the middle of his office.  I put one of my high-heeled feet on the bottom-rung letting the other foot remain on the floor.
The act of sitting on such a high chair pulled my already short skirt up to my middle thigh.

I stared into Dr. Thrasher’s eyes watching him struggle to not look at my legs or the little space I had left open between my thighs.  It made my heart race to see him fight his impulses.

I guess that I should have told him that, but I was embarrassed to reveal how aroused this all made me.

I continued, “ I am visibly shaking at the idea that my skirt comes next.  I feel confused over my desire to show off and my heart is beating out of my chest.”

Dr. Thrasher did not respond, but continued to record my every word.

I stood back up taking a hold of the waistband of my skirt and pulling it away from my waist and down my legs.

“I am finding it difficult to swallow and am feeling very flush.” I told him.

The real truth was that I was feeling a most pleasant sensation invading my most private area.  

Holding my skirt at about knee height I picked up one leg at a time and stepped out of my skirt.  Little beads of sweat were starting to form on my back and between my breasts.

“Do you feel excited?” he asked me.

“No, I mean, sort of, I mean, Yes.’ I answered embarrassed to admit it to him.

He had me face him standing in just my tiny yellow string bikini-swimming suit.  It felt weird to be standing barely dressed while Dr. Thrasher looked me over and wrote in his notebook.  It was the writing in his notebook that felt weird as I have become accustomed to receiving the undivided attention of anyone that I have had to strip for.  
I was disappointed and a little angry with him to be treated so clinically.

“How do you feel now?” he inquired.

I flat out lied when I said, “OK.”

“Do you realize that your lips are swollen and pushing against the crotch of your bikini bottoms?” he stated matter of factly.

I flushed crimson hearing him remark on my obvious excitement.

“ and your nipples are obviously erect.”

“Also, I never instructed you as to what kind of swimming suit you should wear and yet you stand in front of me in one of the tiniest suits I have ever seen.”

I couldn’t deny anything nor offer any sort of explanation.  When I had read his email containing the instructions for this meeting, I immediately picked out one of my smallest suits knowing that I would be showing as much of me as possible to him.
As these thoughts rushed through my mind I could feel my lower lips quiver feeling a warm moist sensation starting to form right between my legs.

I liked to be looked at.  I wanted to be looked at.  I needed to be looked at.

And when I feel this way I want to be spanked.

It all was too much for me.

I grabbed my skirt and t-shirt and fled out the door, hearing Dr. Thrasher’s voice telling me to stop.

I am wondering how strange it was for all of the students that I passed to see a 40-year-old Mom rushing past them in just a yellow string bikini.  I doubt that it is a regular occurrence on campus, although lately all of my campus activities have been highly irregular.

I got to my car and just sat there shaking uncontrollably.  I was very wet again.

I know that I had shared this with Jackie, but it still was just too humiliating to realize that I enjoy the combination of fear and excitement that arrives every time I am told to strip.
It overloads my senses to the point that I become aroused…very aroused.

It is almost like a drug to me and I wonder if I can ever get back to a normal life again or even I want to.

Everything that has been happening to me goes against all of the principles of proper behavior that I was taught growing up.  But this is not as simple as an act of rebellion.  It is as if I have taken a taste of the forbidden fruit and I want more.... much more.

I don’t know whether I can continue meeting with Dr. T.  Right now I am just too ashamed.



The Panty Perils of Me 10





Dr. T has invited me to join him at the university's rec. center as his guest. The university conducts classes on yoga, weight training, tae bo, aerobics, along with everything else for faculty, students, and guests.

He has instructed me to wear something that will definitely be noticed.

I only wish that I wasn't so impulsive about these things as I now find myself standing in front of the rec. center looking like I have overdosed on leopard print. I am certainly being noticed and already feel the pangs of regret and embarrassment taking over my body.

Dr. T meets me as I am being stared at by every male and female going into the building.

He greets me by saying, "Ms. Harley, you have exceeded my expectations of you. Your choice of clothing absolutely screams for attention."

I am too humiliated to respond and certainly don't share any of his enthusiasm. 

You see I went overboard in my desire to please him. My white leggings with a black leopard print would easily of sufficed to draw attention, however I strive to overachieve or is that "over exhibit"? I added a leopard print cotton sweater, as the day is a bit cool. Probably the decision that I regret the most is my choice of leopard print panties that weren't quite as obvious in my bedroom's overhead lighting. However the light of a midday sun makes my leggings almost transparent giving everyone who is staring a very direct response to any question as to what color my panties are, or in this case, colors.

I just want to get inside and out of the x-ray vision sunlight, but Dr. Thrasher seems to be enjoying the view too much. He continues to talk to me although I am not hearing a word as my concentration is purely on each and every person walking by staring at my butt.

After what seems like an eternity, we finally enter the building and proceed to the weight room. Dr. T asks me if I have ever worked on a weight machine before and I nod my head in response.

I am still overwhelmed by all of the stares that I am attracting which seems to have stolen my voice.

Ok, Ok I admit that I normally enjoy sowing off, but ever since I have started meeting with Dr.Thrasher on a regular basis I find my tendencies towards exhibitionism becoming much more selective. In other words, I don't particularly relish everyone looking at me. I seem to much prefer a very select audience that I can interact with. 

The weight room is filled with members of a weight training class and everyone's head turns towards us as we enter the room. The faint smell of stale sweat fills the air.

People are either standing or seated on weight benches, and until we entered the room were giving their singular attention to the instructor.

One entire wall is covered with mirrors, which is suited for bodybuilder's to practice their posing routines. All I seem to be practicing is "Hey everyone! Look at my leopard print panties." And I seem to be very successful at it.

I have definitely interrupted class with my appearance and I can feel my entire body try to shrink in size from embarrassment. That is until I see the instructor.

The instructor is an immense African American male who seems to have been born in a weight room. He easily stands well over 6 feet tall wearing a pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a sleeveless black t-shirt with Gold's Gym printed on the front.

This man has the largest muscles that I have ever seen and if I have the term correct, he is positively ripped. His deep ebony colored skin only adds to the definition of his muscles.

I have never seen a man so perfectly proportioned.

Granted I can only see his massive arms and chest and his sweatpants are rolled up at the bottom revealing a magnificent pair of calf muscles. It still is quite easy to imagine what the rest of him may look like.

My mouth drops open and I am frozen in my tracks despite Dr. T's attempt to pull me along behind him. I am probably repeating the same stare that had recently been directed at me.

The instructor looks me over from head to toe wearing a small smile of satisfaction on his lips while I stand there transfixed by his size and dominating presence in the room. I literally can't stop staring at him feeling both intimidated and intrigued by his amazing body.

I sense that Dr. T is not pleased.

I can feel my lower lips twitch and my nipples grow hard under my sweater. I am sure that I look like a fool just standing and staring, but I really don't care. He is absolutely gorgeous.

Somehow Dr. T regains my attention however temporary and the class starts.

The instructors voice is a low bass and goes through my very bones. Every part of me that can throb is throbbing.

We are all led one at a time through a series of exercises that are specific to upper back and shoulders. The class is not large, but it still involves a lot of waiting as we first watch our instructor demonstrate the proper technique and then each take a turn.

I love the demonstrations watching our instructor's muscles ripple seductively as he lifts weights or pulls cables. I can't help squeezing my thighs together to intensify the physical reaction that I am feeling just looking at him.

At the same time, our instructor seems to take a special interest in me as he constantly hovers over me making sure that my body is positioned correctly for every exercise by placing his huge hands on my hips, back, or shoulders to ensure that I feel the full affect of the exercise.

The heat emanating from his touch is palpable and I can feel myself starting to drip.

I am not wearing a bra under my sweater, as I don't care for exercise bras. I guess you need something to hold in place to bother wearing one, and I have very little to hold in place.

My nipples have not stopped aching since I first caught sight of him and when he touches me, I want to feel his hands under my sweater kneading my rock hard pebbles.

This man is beautiful to look at and even more intoxicating when he is standing right next to me.

I no longer have any regrets concerning my attire now that the instructor is concentrating on me. A rush of euphoria and excitement has replaced my earlier embarrassment and feelings of humiliation.



All too soon the class is over and Dr. T and I are left alone in the room. I try to hide my disappointment, but doubt whether I am successful. The constant vibration that I felt has no were to go. I am left feeling unsatisfied and frustrated.

I can feel my body begging for further stimulation, however my stimulation for the past 60 minutes has just left the room.

I half hear Dr. T say, "Usually I spent another hour or so on my own here as no one seems to use the weight room after class." I am grateful that he isn't expecting me to tell him how I felt being stared at and just want to go home. I have some needs that require my attention.

Then Dr. T brings me out of my melancholia by saying; " I want you to remove your leggings for me. It will help me to assess your desire for risky behavior."

I no longer feel so unfulfilled as I slowly slip off my shoes and pull my second skin Lycra leggings down my waist and off of my legs.

Immediately the all too familiar vibrations invade my body as I now stand in front of Dr. T wearing a tiny pair of leopard print string bikini panties and coordinating sweater. The thought that anyone, particularly the instructor, could easily walk into the room just adds to my disconcertment and excitement.

As my mind races through the possibilities of being seen sending a shock wave through my braless nipples, the door swings open and in walks my African fantasy. Only this time he is wearing a pair of white lycra shorts and nothing else. I do mean nothing else as I can clearly see his manhood extending across his lower pelvic region reaching almost to his hipbone.

I think that I might faint from the overpowering sight of him.

He walks straight up to me and introduces himself as Reggie, but he tells me to call him Reg. It turns out that he is the weight and conditioning coach for the university's athletic teams.

Looking me over Reg asks, " Are you in your posing outfit?" I don't know how to answer and strongly suspect that he is teasing me.

A very warm sensation caresses that sensitive spot between my legs and my nipples again start to throb.

The realization that I am barely dressed and almost alone with this beautiful man sends very moist signals to my crotch only this time I don't have a pair of leggings to hide any telltale moisture.

My frustration of only a few minutes ago has entirely been forgotten and replaced by possibilities.

"Would you like me to be your personal trainer for the day?" Reg asks. 

I respond with a sheepish nod of my head and once again find myself involuntarily crossing my legs and squeezing. "Then lets get started." Reg states emphatically.

What happens next is a bit of a blur to me, but I do remember some things in great detail.

First is how Dr. Thrasher leaves me alone with Reg shortly after our introductions. I guess he just didn't want to compete with such a dominating presence of a man.

I am elated to be one on one with Reg and the flush of red covering all of my bare skin is indicative of it.

Second is Reg's reaction to my wearing almost nothing but a pair of my teeniest panties as his anaconda swells inside of his lycra exercise shorts. I am almost beside myself as one of my deepest fantasies of being handled by a giant of a man is becoming real.

Reg takes me through a series of exercises emphasizing specific body parts just like he did in class, however this time he is much more hands on as well as applying the use of other body parts.

When he tells me to try some chin-ups, he grasps me around my hips easily lifting me up to the bar. Now he could have just as easily lifted me by my waist, but by grasping me around my hips its puts his hands in direct contact with my panties and his fingers extend almost to my pubis. As I struggle to complete even one, he assists me by keeping his hands on my hips until I have completed five.

Then he purposely slides the backside of my body down his front until I can feel his large protrusion pushing right between my barely covered cheeks. When I let go of the bar he allows his hands to slide well up my upper torso until my sweater is pulled completely above my protruding and very bare nipples.

Reg's fingers slide right across my throbbing nubs, and I give out a little moan.

He holds me in this position keeping my sweater bunched above my breasts as I push my bottom back into his large erection.

I could do this over and over again.

When I am lying on my back preparing to do some bench presses, Reg is standing with his crotch directly over my face giving me the most exquisite look of the prominent and long ridge created by his penis as it pokes against the white stretchy material of his shorts.

If it wasn't encased in the lycra it would undoubtedly be resting across my face or extending straight-out from his lower body allowing me a most intoxicating view.

Almost every exercise either gives Reg ample opportunity to touch my exposed skin or myself to get an unobstructed view of his physical prowess.

Our exercise routine is tantamount to a form of obscenity and I find myself wishing that it would never end. Alas, after around 45 minutes of being stimulated both visually and physically, Reg tells me that we are done for the day.

I am dripping in sweat as well as another much more personal kind of secretion. Reg's shorts are spotted in front with his own kind of fluid.

We both know that we aren't finished, but aren't quite sure how to proceed.

Much to my delight Reg asks me to spot for him, as he wants to do some bench presses. I am totally incapable of preventing the amount of weight that he is using from falling on him so I decide to improvise.

As he lies on the bench I swing my leg over his prone body straddling his middle torso and positioning myself so his leaking appendage is right between my legs.

Making a very minor adjustment with my hands I insure that his appendage is running from south to north so I am able to properly straddle it.

Reg makes his own little moan of satisfaction.

Finally we are both in a position to relieve our sexual tension.

As he grunts with each push of the barbell I slide my crotch back and forth directly on his barely covered erection.

The nylon crotch of my leopard print panties is slick from my secretions and a smell of unbridled sex is replacing the odor of stale sweat.

It isn't long before Reg's hands are no longer on the barbell, but placed on either side of my bare hips further encouraging my rolling motion across his penis.

I arch my back throwing my head backwards positioning my crotch directly on Reg's leaking protrusion. 

Ripping my sweater up and over my head I take his hands and place them on my throbbing nipples.

Reg needs very little encouragement to pinch each one as I concentrate on my erotic ride.

I am so close as his delectable ridge of flesh makes direct contact with my protruding kernel. The thin nylon of my panties and the thin lycra material of his shorts provide very little insulation to the overwhelming feelings invading both of our erogenous zones.

This is anything but a dry humping, as we both moan and grunt in a symphony of pre orgasmic sounds. After 10 minutes of glorious bench work I feel Reg's first massive convulsion as his spunk soaks into my panties. Who would have known that he could squirt right through his lycra shorts. The earthy smell of his ejaculate mixed with my own bodily juices creates an intoxicating aroma causing me to reach my own orgasmic peak within seconds of feeling Reg's warm crème between my legs.

The very slick surface between our bodies allows me to simultaneously milk every last drop from Reg's engorged penis while at the same time giving me a whole series of glorious orgasms.

God, I have never enjoyed weight training as much as I do right now.

I collapse on Reg's enormous chest and he grabs my barely covered bottom with both hands. With both of us gasping for air all I can think about is what it would feel like to be spanked by this man. To be more specific, what it would feel like to be stripped in his class down to just my panties and spanked in front of Dr. T and everyone.

My naughty thoughts were met with another set of delectable orgasmic trembles while Reg continues to grip my cheeks with his huge hands.

When I finally found the strength to climb off of him Reg stood up from the bench and playfully scolded me for the enormous wet spot displayed on his lycra shorts. Then to my extreme delight he slapped me right across my cheeks telling me to go take a shower and afterwards to meet him in the coffee shop.

The sensation that passed through me when he applied his open hand to my backside warranted a long and intimate session with the showerhead before I was able to get dressed. It is quite remarkable at how useful the hand dryers can be to a recently washed pair of panties, making them quite usable again.

This time I relished the stares that I received with my see through tights and leopard print panties while sitting across from Reggie in the rec's coffee shop. 

Reg proposes a partnership between us whereby he becomes my personal trainer and I am his motivator.

I only need to promise to wear my posing attire during training as well as spot him while bench pressing. It is the perfect collaboration as I now am able to combine weight training with breath work. J

I have also convinced Reg to wear his posing bikini when we work out.

I am well aware of how tiny the bikinis are that body builders wear to pose and fully expect to see a good portion of Reg sticking out the top. I am sure to get a good soaking while I am spotting him and can't wait for our next training session..

It truly has turned out to be a perfect day.



The Panty Perils of Me 11





It seems that Dr. Thrasher and I are not quite getting along as fabulously as Jackie and he had. It also seems that he has shared details of me with his department head at the university. 

A Dr. (PhD, not MD) Spoocher has contacted me and wants me to meet with him in his office tomorrow over the lunch hour. 

As I have already stated, Dr. Spoocher is the head of the psychology department at the university, which essentially makes him Dr. Thrashers boss. I don't know whether he demanded that Dr.Thrasher allow him to see me or if Dr. Thrasher volunteered me. In either case I am meeting with him tomorrow.

Isn't it a bit curious that the university seems to have replaced the park for my adventures?

Some little voice inside of me seems to be directing me to wear something with long zippers so I put on my denim mini skirt with the side zippers that run from waist to hem along with a black open weave sweater top. Underneath I am wearing something a bit unusual for me as I don't have on a pair of itty-bitty panties. Does this still qualify as a panty peril? I am wearing a black lace body suit that fits me like a second skin. I have completed my outfit with a pair of tan cloth high heels.

I decide that if the head of the psychology department has already heard about me and my tendencies than it doesn't make any sense to disappoint.

This time I almost blend in with the student body as I make my way to the psychology building. I climb the 3 flights of stairs to Dr. Spoocher's office, walk about halfway down the hallway and find a door with his name painted on the glass. I am not quite sure what to do as I stand outside his doorway. Does he have a waiting room so I just walk in and present myself or do I knock and wait for an answer? I decide that since he is expecting me I might as well just walk in. It turns out that he does have a small waiting area but no assistant is to be seen. I suppose that since it is the lunch hour, they might be gone to lunch.

I tentatively knock on the inside door and a commanding voice responds with "Enter."

I open the door and Dr. Spoocher is sitting behind a large unusually colored marble desk. He has a much smaller circular one to my right as I enter. He is probably in his late 50's and wears a professorly looking tweed sport coat and camel colored pants. His shirt is sky blue that highlights his blue eyes magnificently. In a way he reminds me very much of my neighbor, the professor. In fact as I realize this I feel a little pang of regret that I haven't heard from my neighbor in a while. I still harbor fantasies of him despite his blackmailing ways of getting me to strip for him.

My thoughts are broken by Dr Spoocher's greeting, "Ah, Ms. Harley, won't you please take a seat. The chairs in Dr. Spoocher's office are placed further away from his desk than most offices that I have been in. Once I settle into the chair I realize immediately why. Dr. Spoocher has an unobstructed view of my legs and considering the extreme mini of my mini skirt; I imagine that he has already seen well up my skirt.

"Very nice." He almost seems to say to himself.

I start to blush and am feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Dr. Spoocher than proceeds to tell me that he has heard quite a bit about me from Dr. Thrasher and is quite intrigued by my little tendencies. Am I supposed to say, "Thank you," to a comment like this? I remain seated and quiet watching Dr. Spoocher's eyes never stray too far from my bare thighs and the space created between my closed legs and skirt.

"I feel that it would be appropriate to have you give me a demonstration."

The words hit me like a kick in the stomach. Am I now the little girl toy of the psychology department that performs on cue? I only wish that I could voice my indignation and walk out, but I am glued to the chair shaking in anticipation of what may come next.

"Would you take your sweater off for me?" Dr. Spoocher asks but it sounds more like a command.

I am visibly shaking knowing that my bodysuit is quite transparent. Why do I continuously wear lingerie that I know, at least subconsciously, that I will be modeling for a complete stranger? It doesn't seem that my question is not going to be answered by the good doctor, as he seems to have a different kind of session in mind.

I slowly stand up and pull my sweater up and over my head laying it across the back of the chair. My nipples react immediately to the cool air and sudden exposure by becoming little pebbles of flesh pushing provocatively against the sheer lace of my body suit. Dr. Spoocher smiles in a most unpleasant way while asking me to sit on his circular conference table. So did he purposely move the chairs away from the table to make it my personal stage?

Again I comply with his request as if I have no other choice.

I place my hands on the table with my back facing it and in a singular motion lift and slide my body up and onto the table. I keep sliding until my entire body is on the tabletop with my legs stretched out and my skirt riding well up my legs.

Dr. Spoocher gets up from behind his desk and walks over to me. His camel pants have a large lump right behind the zipper and I suspect that it is filled with liquid. A little smile creeps across my face as I think about my little entendre.

"I see you have a very conveniently placed zipper down the side of your leg, Ms. Harley?" I notice a slight tremble in his voice as he notices my long zipper.

I sit frozen and watch him with a shaking hand take a hold of the tongue of my zipper and pull it up towards my waist. My entire thigh comes into view as well as my hip and cheek.

I don't want to feel this way, but the flight of the zipper up my thigh causes a fluttering right between my legs.

Dr. Spoocher's breathing has changed to something akin to excitement and pleasure. He gives an additional little tug and my skirt is completely free on the left side of my body. Essentially he unwraps me pulling the flap of my skirt from across my crotch and yanking it away from underneath me.

I am in nothing but a sheer lace body suit and high heels.

Dr. Spoocher steps back to admire his work asking me to submit to some poses for him.

I notice that he never puts my skirt down, but continues to have a hold of the zipper in his right hand.

With each pose he either rubs his other hand up my legs stopping just short of my now glistening pubis, caressing my almost bare cheeks while I bend over the table, or pinching my very visible nipples bringing a low moan of supplication to my lips.

As he strokes and caresses my bare skin his breathing becomes more labored almost as if he is masturbating. I can't quite figure it out as he continues to hold the zipper of my skirt with one hand and uses the other to essentially feel me up.

Despite the awkwardness of my situation I can't but start to feel aroused. It seems that Dr. Spoocher is getting off by simply looking at me, touching my skin, and something with my zippered skirt.

Suddenly he goes back behind his desk and sits down trying to conceal his hands. Since I am sitting on top of a table his attempt to conceal fails miserably. I watch as he grasps my skirt to his groin and a series of convulsions shake his body while his eyes roll back and he lets out a long moan.

This man has just orgasmed and it occurs to me that what I originally mistook for an erection undoubtedly was a large wad of tissues stuffed into his briefs encircling his penis so he wouldn't stain his pants.

Still a bit out of breath, Dr. Spoocher tells me to stand in front of his desk with one hand on my hip. As I slide my sheer lace covered bottom off of the table I feel a warm liquid soak my right cheek and realize that I have been secreting the entire time that I have been on his table. I have nothing to conceal the tell tale indication of my state of arousal as I awkwardly try to use my bottom to wipe the small pool of secretion up.

I watch him savor my embarrassment and discomfort. His eyes flit from my nipples to my crotch to my navel to my legs over and over again. "At least he can't see the lace of my body suit sticking to my bottom." I think to myself feeling little consolation.

Although his left hand now rests upon his desktop the other still seems to be buried in his lap undoubtedly rubbing his leaking appendage trying to coax it into a resurrection.

When I am sure that I am about to be used in some kind of sexual depravity, as if this hasn't been strange enough, Dr. Spoocher takes a quick glance at his wall clock and announces, "I have to attend to other business but would like to see you next week Tuesday about the same time. Please wear something with long zippers."

I get dressed and slink out of his office feeling like a reprimanded and slightly used student. In his outer office his assistant has just returned from lunch. She hardly gives me a look as I slip past her.

Is it Alice in Wonderland that exclaimed, "Curiouser and curiouser"?



The Panty Perils of Me 12





Tuesday has arrived and I find myself again walking across campus towards the psychology building to meet with Dr. Spoocher. You would certainly think that based upon my initial experience with him, I would just stay home, but I guess by now you realize that a much stronger urge deep inside of me dictates my actions as well as dissolving any other kind of resolve I might harbor.

As for Dr. Spoocher's request to wear something with zippers, I went shopping since our last get together and found a remarkably unique pair of light blue summer pants that fit me like a glove. As for the zipper part, each leg of the pants has a zipper that runs from the ankle to the waist as well as a front zipper for more practical uses. To say that I am quite proud of my find would be an understatement. To try and analyze why I cater to the prurient nature of so many different men would take a lifetime to figure out.

To provide my own little self analysis, Dr. Spoocher reminds me so much of my neighbor, the professor, who has been sorely lacking from my life, that I am using him to supplement my feelings for the real thing. How's that for messed up?

I am quite excited to experience the effect that my new pair of pants has on Dr. Spoocher.

I climb the stairs to his office feeling pins and needles invading most of the erogenous areas of my body. 

I pause in the hallway just outside the doctor's door and take a deep breath before I enter. As before the outer waiting area is vacant so I proceed to the closed inner door. I am surprised that my beating like a drum heart doesn't signal my arrival. I knock on his door and again hear his commanding voice telling me to enter.

Tentatively I crack the door open and there he is sitting behind his desk with his air of authority and self-importance.

I can tell by his look that he is disappointed at my attire. The zippers aren't readily apparent since they look more like sewn seams than zippers.

I can't help myself as I place my high-heeled foot upon his desk almost in front of his face taking a hold of the tiny zipper by my ankle and playing with it. Dr. Spoocher's demeanor changes completely. He is not only thrilled at my little demonstration, but has become quite clearly excited. I mean sexually excited.

Without him saying a word. I pull the tails of my blue and white pin striped blouse out of my pants and slowly unbutton it until Dr. Spoocher sees the red fabric of my silk triangle bra underneath. The look in his eyes is seductive watching me continue to undo each button right down to the bottom of my blouse. Surprisingly I am in a very playful mood, which I am sure is related to my self-analysis that I shared earlier i.e. my yearning to hear from the professor. Dr. Spoocher really does remind me of my neighbor. I now undo each button on my cuffs and with a simple shrug of my shoulders, my blouse slips off and flutters to the ground. I place each hand on a hip turning around to show him how wonderfully my pants fit and the resulting outline of my string bikini panties. The fabric of my pants is perfect for displaying visible panty lines.

His moan clearly indicates his approval.

Up and onto the round performance table I slide my bottom until I am completely lounging on its top.

Dr. Spoocher looks like he is going to erupt in his pants. He can barely contain himself as I see him more than once rub his hand directly on his crotch. I do notice something different this time. He doesn't have the mound that he had before and I am wondering why.

He gets up from behind his desk walking over to my perch and begins to examine my long leg zippers. Just as before his breathing has become much more labored.

His next unexpected move answers my question regarding his lack of lump. Dr. Spoocher takes a hold of his own zipper pulling it all of the way down. Then reaching into the opening just created he frees his penis from its confines. He is of average size and circumcised and pointing straight at me. I can't help but stare at his erection, as it seems to be staring back at me.

The mushroom head is a deep crimson color and throbs with each of his heartbeats. And the little eye is pulsing with a gooey clear liquid oozing out of it.

It is quite clear to me that he has no intention of filling his pants with his crème today.

I am not sure what to do. My little fantasy of him being the professor is completely gone. I have Dr. Spoocher fully exposed standing within inches of me with his miniature cannon ready to explode.

My mind immediately yells, "Not the pants." Funny what goes through a person's head under the most extreme circumstances? (I apologize for the double entendre of the last sentence.)

Dr. Spoocher then takes a hold of the tongue barely visible at my ankle and in a singular motion pulls my zipper completely to my waist. I feel the fabric of my pants unwrap itself from around my legs as I watch my leg from my ankle to my hipbone become entirely visible. The tiny red string of my panties hugging my hip bone comes into view as well..

As if a starter's gun has gone off signaling the initial burst out of the runner's blocks, Dr. Spoocher begins to ejaculate all over my exposed leg. His warm spunk provides such a lewd contrast to the air-conditioned air of his office. My own reaction is to try and protect my pants as one rope of white liquid after another issues forth from his throbbing penis.

I feel no arousal or excitement, only a strong sense of shame and humiliation as the doctor empties his load on me. 

When he is finished splashing me, I am summarily dismissed like a used napkin.

Dr. Spoocher says something about "next week", but I am too angry to hear or acknowledge him.

Trying to keep my unzipped pant leg from touching my dripping skin I walk out of his office and into the hallway. I can feel the tears of humiliation starting to form in my eyes as I look for the nearest Ladies room.

I immediately head to the nearest sink unzipping my other pants leg and strip out of my pants while filling a sink with warm water to soak them. Once I feel that I have gotten his entire gooey residue rinsed away, I wring my pants out and hang them over the door of my temporary refuge: a toilet stall.

While his spunk dries on my unwashed thigh tears again form in my eyes. Here I sit inside the last stall of the Ladies bathroom on the third floor of the psychology building sobbing quietly to myself with one hand down the front of my red silk string bikini panties furiously playing my g chord.

Yes, I am a mixed up little bitch, however the recognition that I just made a man squirt all over my leg without ever touching him is beyond arousing to me. I hate the feeling of being used for someone's sexual pleasure, but at the same time it is quite an ego boost to consider that I am a middle aged mom and still get people off. And the graphic visual of seeing a man squirt his load through the air has me in an absolute sexual frenzy. I need to orgasm.

My fingers pick up their speed as these thoughts flood my senses and within a minute or two, I have my legs stretched out as far as they can go and as wide apart as the two walls of my stall will permit. I have nothing to grab onto to steady myself as the first glorious wave of release overcomes me. My sobs are replaced by incoherent moans of raw pleasure. My narrow perch upon the toilet seat no longer supports me and I slide off to the side pinned between the toilet and the sidewall of the stall. Somehow my legs remain up in the air with one hanging across my recently vacated perch and the other sticking straight out from underneath the confines of my stall. My whole body convulses through one orgasm after another as I shake and shimmy on the tiled floor.

Thankfully no one has entered the bathroom during my rather violent and noisy spastic attack.

Leaving my pants still hanging on the door of the stall I push myself up to a standing position and walk back to the sink. Grabbing a large handful of paper towels, I proceed to wash the dried spunk off of my leg as well as any part of me that just did the boogaloo on a public bathroom's floor.

I use one piece of dry towel to wipe my crotch, which bares considerable evidence of my recent orgasms.

When my pants are reasonably dry, I slip them back on and for the first time realize that I have left my blouse in Dr. Spoocher's office.

It is virtually impossible for me to consider returning to his office. First, I don't want to ever see him again, and secondly, what if his assistant has returned. Right now all I need is for her to see me wearing a bra for a top asking to retrieve my blouse.

Instead I set my resolve to traipse across campus wearing a red silk triangle bra for a top. I try to convince myself that it looks like a bikini top and shouldn't cause much notice.

Suffice it to say that maybe it did look like a bikini top, but it was noticed by everyone and anyone. It certainly didn't help to be sporting two very erect nipples clearly visible under my bikini top.

I did make it home and now all that I can think about is how betrayed and ashamed I feel.

What is wrong with these people? 

I don't want to ever go back to Dr. Spoocher's office again and at the same time my entire body is vibrating as I think about it.

What is wrong with me?



The Panty Perils of Me 13





I guess freak happenings come in pairs. The professor called me completely out of the blue and asked me to dinner next Tuesday, which works well for me as I will be on my own Tuesday night and I can use it as an excuse to not see Dr. Spoocher. Even though Dr. Spoocher wanted to see me around noon, as is his norm. He just doesn't have to know that my conflict isn't until much later.

Maybe he can find someone else's pants to spooch on.

As for my dinner date, I am a bit nervous. I have been thinking about the professor quite a bit lately and despite his application of blackmail to get me out of my clothes, I have found myself missing his attention. 

I have been telling you that I am a bit complicated.

I can't imagine any other reason for him to want to have dinner with me than to get me to strip for him, but he has never offered to buy me dinner before. Well, at least he can pay for my meal, before I show him my undies.

I awoke Tuesday morning to find four inches of snow on the ground. For God's sake, it is supposed to be spring outside. I guess I need to wear something a little warmer particularly if I am going to be undressed outdoors. Since I don't have thermal panties, I decided to wear a garter belt and stockings, so at least my legs won't be bare.

I think that I have shared many times how much I despise pantyhose. The tight band around my waist that leaves a nice little groove when I take them off and their complete lack of breath ability seems to indicate that a man invented them. 

Besides all of that they pretty much grip and hold everything in place so my wiggle goes away when I walk.

Now you certainly don't want my wiggle to go away do you?

At precisely 8:00 P.M. the professor appears at my front door wearing a camel colored sport coat, gray worsted wool pants, and a light blue turtleneck that looks like it might be cashmere. I am quite impressed that he made the effort to look more distinguished than I remember him to be. And besides, the color of his turtleneck perfectly highlights his blue eyes that are now staring at me as I stand in my doorway staring back.

"You look quite lovely." He says to me and I feel myself blush.

I decided to wear a dark bronze colored blouse and a tight fitting black sweater skirt. Although the skirt is a bit short it is warm and shows me off in all of the right places, not that I had that in mind when I chose to wear it.

"You don't look so bad yourself." I reply with a nervous swallow.

This is so different than any of our prior meetings.

He is a perfect gentleman, which seems to make me more nervous than when he forced me to undress outdoors.

He drives me to a very nice restaurant located only about a mile from our prospective houses. After we order, the professor startles me with his opening conversation. He wants to apologize for essentially blackmailing me to undress in front of him.

I am almost disappointed to receive his apology, as it certainly seems that I won't be entertaining him later.

Did I already tell you that I am a bit complicated?

Then he really opens up his secrets to me.

It seems that he has been watching me for a couple of years now as I strolled by in the morning in my shorts and t-shirt to exercise at the park. He tells me that he started setting his alarm clock to make sure that he was outside on his enclosed porch in time to see me parade by.

Then he would go back into the house, make a pot of coffee, and read his newspaper on the porch until I was finished and paraded back home again.

He admits to having a crush on me for quite some time.

I ask him why he decided to blackmail me and he explains that the day that he saw me surrounded by the neighborhood boys standing in just a pair of string bikini panties was the first time in over 8 years that he had experienced an erection.

Do confessions regarding little crushes often segue to discussions about erections?

I was surprised at how open and honest he was with me and how unembarrassed as well.

He told me that just like most men his age he suffered from erectile dysfunction and truly believed that he would never experience a good erection again. However seeing me outdoors in just my panties not only brought him back to attention (Yes, he used the word 'attention'), he also had had a most pleasant orgasm shortly after rescuing me.

I decided not to ask whether his orgasm was self-induced.

I found his honesty to be endearing and found myself growing fonder of him by the minute.

He also said that each subsequent meeting that he had arranged with me met with the same wonderful result. I admitted to him that I had noticed the tent pole forming in his pants whenever we were together.

We both laughed.

He also explained the rumors about him having lost tenure at the university because of encouraging young women to pose for him. It wasn't quite as sensational as the rumors, but the head of the psychology dept. (Dr. Spoocher??) had always disliked him and had fabricated stories about him and his female students. The university felt cornered by the allegations and subsequently asked him to retire.

He added that he has greatly enjoyed looking at his collection of photos of me particularly the ones taken over the past few months.

I again blushed, but still asked how long he had been taking photos. It was so cute to see him look down and then respond, "Over 3 years now."

My jaw dropped a little and I could feel a warm sensation flood the intimate area between my legs.

This very distinguished; intelligent, and good-looking neighbor of mine has been stealing photos of me for the entire time that we have been neighbors.

"I really would like to see his collection", I thought to myself.

He continued by telling me that when he saw the opportunity to have me strip for him, he couldn't help himself. It had been one of his reoccurring fantasies to see me in my undies.

I told him that I felt honored to have played a role in his resurrection and he laughed so hard I thought that he would pass out.

All too soon our dinner was over, but on the way home, he asked whether I would mind taking a walk with him in the park. It still was a little cold out, but it was a spring kind of cold instead of a winter kind. I said, "Sure."

I quickly excused myself to use the bathroom before we left the restaurant. I was in such a rush to get back to the professor that I didn't do the best job of reattaching my garter snaps.

As we approached the playground area, I was feeling a bit naughty especially as a result of the professor's owning up to having a little crush on me. I thought that maybe I would show him a little leg. As I started to open my coat I felt both the front and back garter straps on my right leg snap open.

"Oh poop!" I said and the professor asked what was wrong.

I told him about my garter straps having come undone, but I could wait until we got back to the car to fix them. Of course, I had no intention of waiting, but wanted to hear how the professor would respond.

With a sly little grin the professor replied, "Why wait?"

I couldn't have been more pleased with his implied request to see up my skirt.

Needless to say the thumping in my chest started almost immediately and all of the saliva in my mouth seemed to dry up. I began to shake in anticipation of what I was about to do.

I turned towards the professor to make sure that he had a good view and with a big smile said, "Well, if I fix my straps here I will have to open my coat (which I did) and then pull my skirt all of the way up to almost my crotch like this (I then did this as well). You might even get a glimpse of my panties." I made sure that he got a very good glimpse of my panties.

All that came out of the professor's mouth was, "Oh".

As I lifted my leg up onto the bench of a nearby picnic table my body hugging skirt easily slid all of the way to the top of my thigh giving the professor a complete view of my royal blue garter strap. 

As I reattached the clasp to the top of my stocking, I heard the professor let out another little sign of satisfaction.

The cold air on my bare thigh was intoxicating and despite goose bumps forming on my exposed skin, I was feeling quite warm.

It now seemed only appropriate that I confirm the professor's statement regarding my ability to resurrect.

He had told me how he had fantasized about seeing me in my undies and I have been fantasizing about seeing him squirt. It was time for my fantasies to be realized as well.

I took my foot off of the picnic bench and lifted my skirt all of the way to my crotch. Suddenly it wasn't cold at all. Everything that was exposed as well as covered was feeling quite warm. 

The professor's expression told me immediately that my skirt lifting had revealed more than my leg. And if I hadn't had his expression for confirmation, the cool night air on my now wet crotch told me all I needed to know.

I reattached the back clasp to my stocking leaving my skirt still up and over my thighs and walked to a nearby swing taking a seat on the cold vinyl. The feel of the cold vinyl on my bare thighs gave me more than goose bumps. I was getting quite aroused.

I looked over at the professor with my most seductive grin while my lower lips undulated quite pleasantly.

I was enjoying this almost too much.

Now normally a person on a swing would expect the other person to move behind them and to offer a push. To my extreme satisfaction, the professor moved in front of me as I started to swing.

I would lean way back in the seat with my hands gripping the chains and my arms fully extended pushing my legs straight out in front of me.

Then as I reached a position as far forward as my momentum could take me, I would throw my body forward tucking my legs underneath me and allow myself to go backwards.

With each thrust of my legs forward, my bottom would slide on the vinyl seat of the swing pulling my short skirt higher up my legs until I was barely sitting on the hem of the skirt.

The professor stood frozen in place watching my completely uncovered legs stretch towards him, as the nylon fabric of my tiny bikini panties would pull tightly against my throbbing and swollen lips.

I did nothing to try and hide my excitement pushing my pelvis forward giving my private voyeur an unobstructed view of my wet crotch and clinging panties.

The poor professor was almost beside himself as I gave him every reason to touch himself.

My entire body was shaking as I let the swing come to a stop. I wanted. No! I needed to see the professor spray his white crème across the untainted snow.

As if in a daze I walked towards the spot where the professor was standing, placing my hand directly on his groin. He was hard, very hard.

I rubbed him from the top of his zipper to the bottom luxuriating in his soft moan of pleasure, feeling his firm ridge of flesh push against the palm of my hand.

My coat was still open and was no longer needed as my body temperature had risen considerably within the last 10 minutes. I slipped it off of my shoulders and placed it on the picnic table within arms reach of us.

I tucked the hem of my skirt into the waistband turning it into a fabric belt that covered virtually none of me from the waist down.

Pushing the professor backwards until he was sitting on top of the picnic table while still keeping my one hand firmly buried in his crotch I stretched myself across his side feigning the need to move my coat back but in actuality giving him a full view of my barely covered bottom as the pendulum motion of the swing along with my pumping action had pretty much pulled the nylon material between my cheeks.

I felt his snake twitch and knew that he was getting close.

It seemed the perfect time to introduce his erection to the night air.

Have I mentioned that besides all of my other recently discovered tendencies towards forced exhibitionism, spankings, and submission, I love to see a man ejaculate; particularly one who understands my other tendencies.

The professor was most certainly one of those men and it was time for a wet and wild fireworks show.

I straddled one of the professor's knees with my nylon-covered crotch while moving his other knee as far away from my body as I could. He leaned back on his hands as I pulled his zipper down and with very little effort on my part out popped his beautifully swollen and deep red organ.

The little drops of liquid were quite evident on his perfectly formed helmet and I used them to lubricate the entire head.

It was absolutely hypnotic watching his penis twitch each time I rubbed my finger across its mushroom shaped head.

The professor leaned further back pushing his pelvis forward letting out a deep groan of ecstasy straight up to the stars.

I slid my hand down under his protruding head taking a hold of his shaft and pulled the rest of him up and out into the night air.

As I simultaneously rubbed my moist crotch back and forth on the leg of his wool worsted pants essentially humping him, I gripped his erection rubbing my hand all the way down to origin of his shaft and then back up to just under the head.

The professor and I got into a rhythm of our own as both of our pelvises moved back and forth. I was about to let loose applying my joy juice to the fine fabric of his pants leg while at the same time feeling the professor's erection tense within my grip as it loaded itself for the first big splash, however at this precise moment a clarity of reason passed through me and I realized that the professor was about to cover both himself as well as myself with semen, which would not be easily explained should we happen to meet anyone on our way back to the car.

I quickly slid off of his leg and practically dove into his lap making sure that my mouth covered his soon to erupt penis feeling the first warm spurt of liquid hit the back of my throat.

I didn't have the luxury of time to savor the salty taste of his spunk knowing that I needed to quickly swallow before the next stream of ejaculate filled my mouth.

I virtually gulped following each wet spasm of release until the professor was about finished.

I would guess that it had been quite some time since he had had a woman's mouth sucking on his penis, as I hadn't expected so much liquid particularly from a person of his age.

At least now I could take the time to truly taste his jism as his shrinking head oozed that last remaining secretions into my mouth. I used my tongue to play with the very sensitive ridge that splits the head of a penis coaxing every last lick of liquid from his softening member.

Do you ever fantasize about something only to be disappointed when it becomes real? This was just the opposite for me. It far exceeded any fantasies that I had ever held involving the professor and my now very wet crotch verified it. 

It was one of the sexiest things that I have ever been a part of as I found myself still shaking long after the professor had put himself away. 

Once my body had a chance to return to its normal state without feeling so sexually charged the now very familiar feelings of regret and remorse started to seep in.

My mind became filled with questions about my lack of propriety and overwhelming need for sexual adventure.

My forlorn and shame filled eyes looked over at the professor and he was able to read my mind immediately.

I thought that he would now take me home to let me wallow in my self induced misery, but instead the professor very unexpectedly took a hold of my black skirt yanking it down my legs until the elastic waistband was wrapped around my calves. He then pulled me forward across his lap and smacked me across my wet and sticking royal blue panties.

I let out a yelp of surprise and pain as my body was no longer immune to the effects of the cold night air increasing the stinging of his bare hand on my bottom.

His next move was to yank my blouse well up my back so nothing obstructed his view or aim of my barely covered bottom.

Another stinging smack to my backside sent me into convulsions of pain and pleasure and before long I was again lost to the sweet release of regret that seems to follow each of my excursions into depravity.

How the professor knew that I longed for this kind of physical reprimand was beyond my comprehension, but the experience of being stripped to not much more than a pair of thin nylon panties in a public setting and then spanked completely gratified my unexpressed desire to be punished.

I welcomed each stinging slap to my exposed skin and I became easily lost to the sensations of pain and humiliation. 

The professor knows me intimately; possibly even better than I know myself.

His exhibition of control and authority over me was intoxicating. I welcomed his firm hand across my taut and reddening cheeks. 

It seems to be the only way for me to exorcise the sexual demons that I give in to so regularly. It is the only way that I am able to return to a normal life and not get lost completely in an erotic play land of my own making.

Once the professor knew that I have had enough with my entire body now enveloped in sweat, he directed me to remove my skirt from around my legs, to pick up my coat, and to follow him back to his car.

Once I was seated inside I attempted to put my skirt back on, but the professor shook his head and motioned for me to toss it into the back seat. I complied without question.

As we pulled up to the driveway of my house, I noted that the lights were still off so no one had arrived home in my absence.

I moved to drape my coat over my shoulders and again the professor prevented me from covering up.

"It is supposed to warm up again starting tomorrow, so you shouldn't need a winter coat anymore. You can leave it in the car and retrieve it some other time. I believe that you will know when."

I didn't quite understand what he was telling me, but I opened the door and stepped out into the night wearing only a deep bronze colored metallic blouse that barely reached the top of my garters, my matching royal blue garter belt and bikini panties, blue stockings, and my brown lizard skin high heels.

The snow on the driveway was difficult to walk on in my heels and I almost planted my bottom in the snow a couple of times as I made my way to my door.

About halfway to my door I realized two things that caused my breath to freeze in my lungs.

One, I am completely exposed by the street light that sits at the bottom of my driveway so anyone looking out their window at this time of night can easily see my scantily clad walk of shame, and

Two, the professor drives a very unique old car that everyone in the neighborhood would easily recognize as his. And the fact that it is still sitting at the bottom of my driveway with the passenger side door wide open would leave no doubt to any interested party who I had been with tonight.

I didn't even dare to see if any of my neighbors might be looking out their windows and could only imagine what might become of me if they were.

Is this the professor's way to extend my feeling of humiliation and shame?

Is the professor demonstrating his control over me as well as my actions?

Or does he just want to prolong the view of me in my panties?

As I pondered each question one at a time, the motion detector above my door activates and floods my entire body in light.



The Panty Perils of Me 14





Just the other day my nosey neighbor, a Kathy Schmidt, stopped me in the grocery store asking me, "Was that the professor's car I saw parked outside your driveway the other night?" I barely kept myself composed, as it was quite clear that nosey Kathy had seen my little skirtless walk to my door. I was at a complete loss as to how to respond, as undoubtedly she also knew that I was on my own for the evening, making my lingerie saunter from the professor's car to my back door even more condemning.

For some reason I decided to answer the question exactly as she asked it and to force her to ask for further details if she dared. So I said, "Yes, the professor and I had gone to dinner together and he was dropping me off afterwards."

The look on her face told me clearly that her mind was on overload. She just heard me admit that I was with the professor and having seen me exit his car without a skirt or pants on was playing havoc with her. I could tell that she was dying to ask more particularly about my state of undress, but as with most nosey neighbors she was afraid to pry further into my private life.

I knew that the rumor mill in my neighborhood was about to become overloaded with tales about my debauchery. The only satisfaction that I had was that there was no real proof as all of my collaborators weren't about to spoil their relationships with me by telling.

Despite this fact I resolved to behave myself from that point forward and to suppress any and all of my sexual cravings going forward. I needed to stop now and forever.

What still bothers me to some degree was my unquestioning willingness to comply with the professor's wishes. This man definitely has a profound influence on me. I cannot deny that particularly since I spend so much of my free time thinking about him.

Six weeks have gone by since my encounter with Kathy and I have been absolutely boring as it regards anything sexual. Summer has settled in with hot and humid days and sultry nights, which has always had an effect on my libido.

It is a Saturday and for as long as I have been celibate so to speak, I have tried to get my husband to paint our living room. We moved the furniture to the middle of the room weeks ago and that is as far as we have gotten.

He keeps telling me to hire someone, but it just doesn't make sense to me to pay someone to paint. C'mon, how difficult can it possibly be?

As he is out for the day playing golf with clients and my daughters are again with friends, I have decided to give it a go myself and purchased the paint, roller, drop cloths, brushes, etc. during my lunch break yesterday.

What I wasn't expecting, particularly since I have been doing so well, was that funny feeling that I get when I want to be a little naughty. I don't know whether you know this feeling, but it starts in my stomach with a pulsating that is very similar to butterflies. After a while the pulsating heads directly south and invades my most erogenous zone i.e. the one located exactly between my legs.

The pulsating fills my head with a craving to misbehave. 

I thought that maybe an extensive session with the hand held pulsating head of my shower might cure these impulses, but they only made them worse.

I virtually have no control when these urges take over. I want to be scandalous and with my prim and proper filter turned completely off, I have thought of the perfect way to achieve my desire.

I am going to paint our living room wearing only a bra, panties and a pair of high heels. And not just any bra and panties, but my virginal white matching set with a sheer front half cup bra and a sheer front string bikini panty. As an afterthought I put a white sweatband on to complete my all white ensemble.

I absolutely feel wicked standing on the step ladder in just my see through undies with the front and patio doors swung wide open to eliminate the paint fumes and let in some air. I am positively oozing between my legs. My entire body is vibrating hearing in the distance one of my neighbors out cutting the lawn and others walking in front of the house with only a screen door as my veil to the outside.

I want so badly to sit on the top rung of the stepladder while reaching down the front of my panties masturbating until I absolutely scream in ecstasy. But I have a room to paint before I play.

It turns out to be not so difficult once I get the hang of painting a large W on the wall with the paint roller and then filling it in. And using the smallest brush that I purchased to paint along the baseboards and ceiling works quite well as long as I keep a steady hand. I think, "Just the opposite kind of hand I want to use on myself," and silently laugh.

After the first wall, I have become totally engrossed in my task and am oblivious to the outdoor sounds that had previously added to my sexual excitement, and besides, working on a step ladder in high heels requires just a little bit of concentration. Try it if you don't believe me.

As I am applying paint to the wall that basically connects our front door with the patio door a soft knocking on the screen door breaks my concentration. With the paint can in one hand, the paintbrush in the other, and my left leg raised to begin my climb back up the ladder, I glance towards the front door. It is my college student and academic fraternity member neighbor, Arnold.

I have become so involved in the chore at hand that until I see the look in Arnold's eyes, I have completely forgotten what I am wearing, or should I say, what I am not wearing, which is most of my clothes.

I let out a little scream of surprise and embarrassment to see him peering through the screen at my exposure. Sure he has seen me in just a pair of panties before, but this wasn't in my house or in our neighborhood. It makes me feel so much more self-conscious.

I try to act nonchalant by sitting on the top rung of the ladder saying, "Oh, Hi Arnold. What brings you to my door?" But my voice cracks in nervous anticipation.

Arnold tells me that he is home for the summer as his school year ends in late Spring and was hoping to see me. "Well, he certainly is seeing me", I think to myself.

I am not exactly sure why I do this, but I invite him inside. For God's sake, I am wearing nothing more than a very revealing set of undies and I have just asked a neighbor's son into my home. Regardless of Arnold and my history together, this is still considered quite scandalous should anyone see us together. The pulsating that I experienced earlier has started up again and it is very centrally located. My aureoles are clearly visible through my lace cups surrounding a pair of very dark red and very erect nipples.

As I slide my body around to the front of the ladder to face Arnold, his eyes are having a very difficult time trying to figure out what to look at first, my tiny red nubs poking provocatively through my lace cups or my undoubtedly glistening trim clearly visible through the sheer front panel of my white panties.

My attempt at staying composed is gone and I find myself just sitting there as Arnold stares at every inch of my exposed skin as well as the parts that aren't fully exposed.

I want to cross my legs while squeezing my thighs together as tight as I can knowing the effect that this will have on my developing kernel, but I force myself to remain as I am.

After what seems to be an eternity of sitting under a heat lamp caused by Arnold's leering eyes, I am able to say, "Stop staring and grab a roller."

Arnold breaks out of his self-induced trance and awkwardly reaches down hitting his head on my bare knee. The effect is erotic as the vibration from the hit combined with the heat of this forehead sends the most exquisite shockwaves through my lower anatomy. I stifle a moan as I hear Arnold, say, "Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Harley." Again that little voice inside my head silently responds, "I'm not. Not at all."

We both are having a very difficult time concentrating on the painting as Arnold keeps staring at all of my body parts and I keep glancing sideways to see if he is looking. Every time our eyes meet my stomach lurches.

This becomes our routine for the next 60 minutes as the walls of the living room slowly turn to a new shade of color. The entire time Arnold has a full erection sticking straight out from his khaki colored shorts. I can visualize the dark shade of red that his penis has taken on almost matching my still erect nipples.

We are almost finished when my paintbrush inadvertently flips out of my hand splashing paint all over Arnold's t-shirt and shorts. Without even thinking I order him to quickly go down to the basement and put his clothes into the washing machine before the paint sets. While he is gone I gather up all of the rollers and brushes and carry them downstairs to rinse them out in our basement utility sink.

As I head down the stairs I hear Arnold let out a loud gulp of concern and immediately wonder what he is up to. Pardon my use of words, but essentially both interpretations would be accurate considering what I see next. Arnold is standing in front of the washer wearing an incredibly small and tight fitting pale blue bikini panty that looks identical to one of mine. The mushroom head of his very erect and very swollen penis is completely sticking out of the top waistband, while Arnold's face wears an expression of pure terror and shock.

My young college attending and academic fraternity member is wearing a pair of my panties and obviously likes it.

The sight of Arnold wearing a pair of form fitting and too small bikini panties does nothing to calm my earlier mood of being naughty.

Instinctively, although I had no idea that I had this in me, I tell Arnold to stop trying to cover himself up with his hands and to just stand there. Arnold does as I say and the view of his entire body improves greatly. Now it is my turn to stare. I causally walk past him placing the rollers and brushes into the sink filling it with warm soapy water.

As poor Arnold continues to stand there while another inch of his erection sticks provocatively out of my panties, I began to soap up the brushes and rollers that are sitting in the sink.

I purposely make sure that he watches me soap up each roller gripping it around its cylinder and moving my hand up and down its length. The poor boy is beside himself and clear drops of thick and gooey liquid are starting to ooze out of his pulsating organ.

I spend as much time as I can stroking each roller until all of the paint color is gone and Arnold's member is absolutely oozing.

I tell him to rinse the rollers and brushes off until the water runs clear allowing him a brief respite before I decide on my next little scheme.

I go over to the clothes basket which Arnold has obviously rifled through and put all of my light colored clothes into the washer along with Arnold's shorts.

I add the laundry liquid and turn the washer on. Then the next idea floods my mind with a most erotic vision.

While the washer is working through its first cycles I make Arnold model my panties for me. I watch him walk back and forth across my basement as his entire body takes on a deep flush of crimson. It is interesting that his profound embarrassment seems to have no effect on his flagpole as it continues to show its colors sticking out the top of my panties.

When I hear the washing machine change its sound to the next cycle, I immediately stop it and tell Arnold to come over to me. As he sheepishly walks towards me I place my hands on the top of the washer and use them to boost myself on the top so I am now sitting on it with my legs facing forward towards Arnold.

I place each of my legs on either side of him and tell him to bend forward. He hesitates knowing that this movement will place his face directly in my scantily clad lap. That side of me that surprised me before almost yells, "Do it." Grabbing him by the back of the head I virtually straddle his face with my wet crotch and using my elbow I push the washer back on to begin its rinse and spin cycle. I am going to use the momentum of the washing machine's spin cycle along with Arnold's face to masturbate myself.

As I grip the back of Arnold's head the washing machine begins its vibrating motion and immediately I know that it won't take me long to orgasm.

Poor Arnold lets out a muffled sound but right now my main concern has nothing to do with his possible lack of air. I want to get myself off.

I literally don't have to do a thing other than to insure that Arnold's chin is in the right place as the washing machine does all of the glorious work for me. The exquisite view of Arnold's little hairless butt barely covered by my light blue panties adds to my arousal and within the first 3 minutes I achieve two violent orgasms that have my thighs gripping Arnold's head like a hungry anaconda. Thankfully he isn't overly sensitive to pain as I am almost yanking my handfuls of his hair out of his head.

As I come down from my erotic high I loosen my hand and thigh holds of Arnold and settle back onto the washing machine. God, it felt so good and has been so long since I allowed myself to play.

As my punishment to Arnold for rifling through my panties, although truthfully I found it quite sexy, I make him go upstairs with me to fold the dropcloths and put away the ladder while his clothes are drying in the dryer. Arnold's erection never goes away the entire time.

Once his clothes are dry I tell him to bring them as well as the other contents of the dryer upstairs. Then with a devilish grin I make him fold my panties into little squares of nylon and again watch his penis oozing goo.

I am not about to let him or assist him in ejaculating. He will just have to suffer while I have my fun.

Then out of nowhere that all too familiar feeling of shame hits me full in the face. Arnold can tell that something has changed my mood and I try desperately not to take it out on him. I ask him to take m y panties off and to get dressed. I promise to email him later, and hurry him on his way. Right now I need to be by myself. 



The Panty Perils of Me 15





I am feeling out of control again. That is if I ever really had control.

The shame that I feel from my latest encounter with Arnold just won't seem to go away.

I decide to try and calm down by sitting in a chaise lounge in my back yard and taking in some sun. I quickly change out of my see through white bra and string bikini panty and put on a very skimpy bright red bikini bottom and a coordinating white and red striped sleeveless midriff baring top.

I don't think that I was lying in the chaise for any more than 10 minutes when I find myself slipping on a pair of bright red high heels (maybe I need to examine my extreme obsession with coordinating outfits, too) and openly walking down the sidewalk purposely heading to the professor's house. If nosey Kathy is looking out her window than she is getting quite an eyeful and headful as well. I am not exactly dressed for a visit with a male neighbor unless I enjoy rumors about my slutiness (or should I say 'lack of decorum?) to continue.

I am about half way to the professor's house when I first notice the sudden lack of sound in the neighborhood. The lawnmowers have stopped along with most of the other Saturday outdoor activities. My little red bikini parade down the sidewalk has attracted many of my neighbor's attention. Most of the men are sporting little smiles of satisfaction while the women all look upset. It is the first time that I am conscious of how little I am wearing and a flush of embarrassment takes over my body.

What has gotten into me, as now I don't even know how to behave in my own backyard?

The worst part about the stares that I am getting is the warm feeling that is beginning between my legs. I am getting aroused.

I hurry my walk to the professor's as I feel everyone's eyes on my barely covered butt.

Thankfully the professor is home and answers the door immediately.

One look in my eyes and he knows why I am there.

"Elizabeth," he says, "I assume that you are ashamed of something and desire my assistance." All I can do to respond is to nod my head as tears start to form in my eyes.

Almost unconsciously I walk over to his couch and lean over presenting my bright red covered bottom for his admonishment.

The professor walks over to me and places his hand on my bottom slowly stroking and kneading my nylon lycra covered cheeks. It feels so good that I almost purr out my reaction, "Mmmmmm."

With his other hand he starts to stroke my bare midriff reaching up under my stomach baring t-shirt until his fingers touch the bottom of my bare breasts. Another long, "Mmmmmmmmmm" escapes from my lips. 

He continues to grab my cheeks one at a time pinching them until I am ecstatic with the sensual pain of it.

While pinching my cheeks his other hand finds a very erect and throbbing nipple poking against the fabric of my t-shirt and rolls it between his two fingers.

I can feel the moisture building between my legs as my entire body melds into his touch.

When I think that I can't stand anymore of his manual manipulation of me, his fingers leave my pulsating nipple and his hand slides down the front of my torso moving down, down, down to my other pulsating area.

While again grabbing my cheek with his other hand, I feel his fingers sliding underneath the elastic waistband of my bikini bottoms. I push my groin towards his exploring fingers moving my legs further apart welcoming his invasion into my most sensitive erogenous zone.

My lower lips are fully swollen and parted glistening with my sex as he finds my swollen kernel and begins to play with me.

My entire body straightens up giving him full access to my opening lips. I don't even realize that I have slipped both of my hands under my t-shirt pulling it up and over my now very erect nipples. I place my fingers on each hard little nub and stroke them in a similar manner to how the professor is stroking me. I can't help but to continue to purr as everything feels so extremely good.

The professor's technique is flawless and I am on the verge of orgasm when the first smack across my tightly squeezed bottom sets off my pain and pleasure alarms.

How could he possibly know that the combination of being firmly spanked across my almost bare bottom combined with being masturbated by his exploring fingers would ignite the fires of my raw sexual passion?

I don't scream out in pain but let out a loud guttural sound of satisfaction and supplication.

As I feel the professor's finger slip inside my well-lubricated aperture another resounding smack stings my bottom and I almost faint from the exquisite sensations coursing through my body.

The professor plays me like a well-tuned instrument mixing the sounds of pain and pleasure until I can barely stand. Then the first glorious wave of release convulses my very soul with my legs coming together gripping the professor's hand and trapping his fingers inside of me as I orgasm over and over again. I am like an animal with saliva dripping from my mouth and unintelligible sounds of raw sexual passion emitting from my vocal chords.

I find myself sliding to the floor as the warm, wet liquid from the professor's immersed fingers winds its course across my stomach and up to my bare nipples.

As I come back to reality I am sitting on the floor of the professor's living room with him holding my t-shirt well over my breasts having kept my head from hitting the wood floor as I more or less fainted from ecstasy.

The professor helps me back to my feet and places me in one of his overstuffed chairs. My t-shirt has somehow settled on the top of my still very erect nipples making it look like they are playing peek-a-boo. I am given a glass of ice-cold water and languish in the complete sense of serenity that now invades my body.

The reality of this moment hits me like a hard slap in the face. The professor is the type of man that I have been looking for. I love my husband and children and wouldn't ever think of leaving them, but there is this other side of me that needs to be let loose now and then, and the professor understands this.

As we sit I spill everything that has happened to me over the past few months. I tell him about Arnold, Jackie, Benjamin, Mr. Whitmore and Mr. Dempsey, Dr.Thrasher, Reg, and Dr. Spoocher. It is like the floodgates have opened and I can't stop telling him everything. 

I tell him how exciting every experience was as well as how much I hated myself for it.

The professor just sits and listens without showing any shock or surprise, nor does he express any judgment concerning my acts or feelings.

As my last confessions spew from my conscious I feel a sense of relief as I have someone who I can talk to that won't use me as an experiment or try to change me. I have someone that accepts me for who I am as well as who I try to be.

As the time as hurried by the professor takes my hand pulling me up from the chair and leads me to his front door.

"Elizabeth, I want you to go home as I am sure that your husband is home by now and we don't need our neighbors talking anymore about you than they probably are already. Call me anytime that you need to talk or for anything else and we can get together without you walking half naked to my porch in the middle of the afternoon. Also, from time to time I will ask you to do a favor for me."

It was like heaven to my ears. 



The Panty Perils of Me 16





I woke up today feeling quite horny and wanted to act out in the worst way. Since I was on my own for the day, which seems to be the norm lately, I immediately thought of calling the professor for a date.

I knew that he would be available and would certainly enjoy my company, particularly the kind of company that I was thinking about.

Now the professor had already confessed to me how much he enjoys seeing me in my undies so I spent the next couple of hours showering, shaving, primping etc. and then I pulled intimates from my lingerie drawer and started to try different sets on. I had pretty much settled on a tiny white pair of nylon bikini panties with little bows on each hip along with white stockings and red heels. As I was taking a bright red garter belt out of the drawer to complete my under outfit for the professor my cell phone went off. I didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. When I heard the voice on the other end, my stomach lurched and I immediately felt ill.

It was Mr. Whitmore from what felt like a lifetime ago. He wanted me to stop by his office as soon as possible. I certainly wasn't about to wear stockings and a garter belt to see Mr.Whitmore, so I threw a long sleeved white cotton t-shirt over my head along with a pair of jeans and my red high heels.

Maybe it wasn't the best choice of attire as I neglected to put on a bra and my jeans were rather tight, but it was much tamer than what I had in mind for the professor.

I drove to Mr. Whitmore's office and along the way thought about the last time that I was beckoned by Mr. Jack Whitmore. His security chief yanked my pants off, felt me up, and then Mr. Whitmore humped me. All because they had a video of me being spanked in one of their conference rooms. It is funny to remember how scandalous and humiliating that all seemed to me and now just a couple of months later it all seems rather tame.

As I recalled all of this my lower libido seemed to be waking up. In all truth it had never gone to sleep. I was still feeling quite randy and the memory of what had happened the last time I had met with Mr. Whitmore wasn't helping.

When I entered Mr. Whitmore's office building his assistant again greeted me. Just like before she was impeccably dressed in a tight fitted white blouse with enough buttons unbuttoned to show the tops of her breasts being cradled in a sky blue colored demi cup push up bra. Her glen plaid skirt was equally tight, hugging her perfectly formed bottom, and giving a hint that she might be wearing a garter belt.

"Maybe she and I have the same tastes in undies," I thought as I followed her to Mr. Whitmore's office.

I was dressed rather dowdy by comparison and glad that I was. I certainly didn't want to send the wrong signals to horny Mr. Whitmore.

I can't imagine why Mr. Whitmore keeps calling me when he has such a 'hotty' for an assistant. Is it true that variety is indeed the spice of life?

She ushered me into Mr. Whitmore's office with a sneer that clearly told me that she did not want me to be there.

Mr. Whitmore had on a gray and black hounds tooth print sport coat and black pants. He has lost some of his extra pounds, since I last was in his office, and despite my resentment towards him he looked rather good.

He absolutely leered at me as I entered his office and sat down.

"Thank you for coming on so short a notice Ms. Harley. I do appreciate it." He started off.

"I am hoping that you might do me a little favor as I am in the need of some entertainment, and as I was recently watching the video of your spanking, you naturally came to mind." 

Obviously he still felt that any circulation of my spanking video would result in my extreme humiliation and thus I would do anything to prevent it. I guess to some degree he was correct, but since my most recent escapades, it no longer held quite the power over me that it did before.

I could have said all of that and walked out, however that other part of me was too curious to see how this might all play out.

After all I did have some special things in mind for the professor, but since it seemed that any dinner date would have to be postponed, I might as well find out what Mr. Whitmore had in mind for me.

"What can I do for you?" I smiled back at him.

"Would you be so kind as to lean across that chair for me?"

Flashbacks of the last time that I was in his office again invaded my mind as well as my crotch. Without any hesitation on my part I stood up, walked over to the same chrome and leather chair and draped my body across the arms.

My pose lifted my t-shirt over my waist showing how low cut my jeans were along with my belly button.

A wave of excitement washed over me.

Just like the first time, my entire body was shaking. I watched Mr. Whitmore get up from behind his desk and walk towards me. Part of me wanted to run out the door but it was such a small part of me that I easily ignored it.

Mr. Whitmore slowly took a hold of my t-shirt and began to roll it up my torso. My bare and exposed skin reacted to the change of exposure as my nipples immediately became hard. I closed my eyes luxuriating in the sensations of having my upper torso unveiled.

Being told to strip or being stripped has such an arousing effect on me especially when it is someone who is clearly in control. I still hate myself for feeling this way, but it continues to excite me. Is that what a submissive female is like?

I could feel my lower lips began to throb inside my panties wondering how much of me was going to be exposed.

He kept rolling the shirt until it was sitting just above my very erect nipples, which now matched the throbbing between my legs. 

They were poking out so perfectly straight that the fabric of the t-shirt easily rested on them as if they were playing peek-a-boo with Mr. Whitmore.

"Very nice!" he exclaimed admiring his handiwork as well as giving each knot of flesh a little pinch.

I couldn't help but to let out a little moan as his fingers played with my nipples.

I squeezed my lower lips together as tightly as I could adding to the stimulation of Mr. Whitmore's hold on my bare nipples.

I don't want to react the way I do but I can't stop it.

I knew that I shouldn't have come. I knew that this would happen.

I am addicted to the embarrassment, the humiliation, and the stimulation. 

He then slid his hands down the inside of my chest and down my stomach. I automatically sucked in my stomach giving his hands easy access down the front of my jeans. Every bit of flesh in my crotch area was starting to quiver as Mr. Whitmore took a hold of the button on my jeans and forcibly pulled it apart causing the zipper to easily part exposing the top elastic of my white bikini panties.

"Let's get these off of you, shall we?" Although it was more of a rhetorical question I wasn't about to refuse stretching each leg out so he could easily strip me of my jeans.

I uttered a very quite, "Yes" as my jeans were pulled off and thrown to the side.

I essentially was as good as topless while still having a t-shirt on. My pure white panties clung to my bottom accentuating my near nakedness.

"I love the stockings, Ms. Harley. Did you put them on for me?"

I wasn't about to tell him about the professor and my plans for dinner as it wasn't any of his business and I didn't need him to know that lately I hadn't been exactly a model of propriety or that I had been incredibly horny all day. I just kept my mouth shut as he began to pinch and knead my cheeks as well as sliding his hand down between my legs.

I really want to say that none of this excited me but for christsakes I had just been forcibly stripped to my panties by a corporate CEO in his office.

Can you say, "Do fantasies come true?"

Why do you think I want to be spanked following each of my performances in my effort to cleanse my conscious?

Mr. Whitmore again slipped his hands up and around my tiny breasts playing with my erect nipples while grinding his pants covered erection into my nylon-covered bottom.

"God, Ms. Harley, you are such a delight. I really look forward to our times together."

I really tried not to let his fondling and humping affect me but it all felt sooooo good. Each time he pushed himself into me, I pushed back.

He cupped my breasts with each hand and began to hump my bottom in earnest. As his breathing took on a different tempo his hands slid down to my hips. He grabbed me firmly and I felt his erection slide up and down between my cheeks. His humping action kept pulling the thin nylon fabric of my panties up between my legs as if he were fondling me at the same time. 

I couldn't help getting wet myself only hoping that Mr. Whitmore would keep his hands away from my crotch. I didn't want him to have any idea of how aroused I was getting.

It seemed so terrible to be used like this: as a pure object of his sexual cravings, but I loved the whole idea of it.

Mr. Whitmore relaxed his tight grip on my bare hips and began to undo his belt. I purposely moved my legs wider apart in preparation of his uncommunicated intentions when his personal secretary (Ms. PS) stormed into the office. She was not happy to see what was going on between Mr. Whitmore and myself. And I was so close. Damn, I was close.

I had suspected as much as the first time involved more of Mr. Dempsey who had actually stripped and fondled me. This time it was just Mr. Whitmore and myself.

She flew into a rage screaming at Mr. Whitmore while glaring at me. 

I guess it was Mr. Whitmore's turn to feel humiliated as I stayed draped over his chrome and leather chair watching the scenario unfold.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me. Although my nipples stayed erect and poking out from the bottom of my t-shirt, the rest of me was calming down quickly.

Since it certainly seemed that my attendance was no longer needed I rose from the chair to retrieve my jeans that had been so unceremoniously thrown onto the floor, however Ms. PS was just a bit quicker than I as she flew over and scooped them up. 

Mr. Whitmore along with myself stood there in total disbelief watching her shred my jeans into worthless strips of fabric with a stainless steel set of scissors that were a part of Mr. Whitmore's desk set display.

When she had finished her task, she handed me what now amounted to a stack of denim fabric and told me to follow her out of Mr. Whitmore's office.

I glanced at Mr. Whitmore who was clearly in his own state of shock and disbelief and followed her out of the door.

Once we got out the door, she handed me what she swore was the only disk of my humiliating spanking saying, "Now Jack has no power over you and I will provide him all of the entertainment he needs. Do you understand me?" 

I nodded to her taking the disk and walked to the elevator.

A bit reluctantly I realized that I was rid of Mr. Whitmore, thanks to Ms. PS, but still had to find my way home without any pants to wear.

It is a strange and sensual experience to drive through the city without any pants particularly when sitting at red lights wondering what the driver right next to me would think if they knew. Twice on my way home I had city buses pull along side of me and noticed the stares that I was getting as most every passenger sitting on my side could see right down into my lap.

I tried to pull my t-shirt down but to no avail, although the idea that they were enjoying the sight of me wearing a pair of white bikini panties and matching white stockings certainly caused a reaction in my lower extremities. I was feeling horny again. 

Despite knowing that I was being looked at, it took all of my will power to keep myself from sliding a couple of fingers inside the top elastic of my panties and relieving the stress of the past couple of hours.

I was shocked that I would even consider masturbating while being watched, but the thought of it really excited me. It seems that I am still exploring my limits.

By the time I arrived home most of my neighbors where inside for the evening, however Ms. Chatty Kathy was out walking her dog. When I started to pull into my driveway, she quickly positioned herself alongside my car wanting to say something to me.

I felt that it would have been too rude to just drive right by her so I made the extreme mistake of stopping. How I didn't realize that my lower half was without pants is still beyond me.

I rolled down my window and she said, "Hi". I responded and then saw the look in her eyes change as she realized that I was wearing just my panties and white stockings from the waist down.

I turned a nice shade of crimson hearing Kathy say something snide about me having just been with the professor.

I knew that if I denied it that it would only cause her to spread more rumors about me.

I was speechless with no explanation for my state of undress. Along with the fact that my panties were soaked in the crotch didn't help.

I decided that by acting outrageous, I might confuse her enough to keep her from speculating why I was pant less. I pulled the entire car into my driveway, parked it, and exited wearing nothing but my white t-shirt as a cover. I wished Kathy a good evening while walking to my back door and disappeared into the house.

My nipples were at full attention and my lower lips were quivering. 

I literally slid down the cabinets in my kitchen spread my legs wide and masturbated until my overactive libido was sated.

As all of the windows were open I now wonder whether Kathy heard me verbally announcing each orgasm as I convulsed and spasmed all over the kitchen floor.

God, I need a good spanking.



The Panty Perils of Me 17





I was asked to run downtown at the end of the day to pick up a signed contract that needed to be filed first thing in the morning. I hate trying to find parking in the middle of the city and was griping to myself when I spied a parking structure within walking distance of my appointment.

I have to say that it was perfect. It was a 2-story structure where you simply drive into the entrance and let the parking attendants take your car after giving you a ticket. Then upon returning you simply produce the ticket, pay for the parking, and they drive your car to the entrance of the ramp.

I rushed off to get the signed contract and then returned to the parking garage to pick up my car.

I showed the attendant (#1), a nice looking young man about 20 years old, my ticket and he told me that it would be $10. It was at this point I first realized that in my hurry to get the contract I had left my purse in the car.

I explained the situation to the attendant and he understandably looked at me with a bit of skepticism. He used their walky-talky to contact the other young nice looking attendant (#2), who had parked my car, to check inside the car.

I nervously stood there waiting for the return response as the young man leered at me with a grin on his face making me feel most uncomfortable. The return call came and we both heard that there was no purse in my car.

I responded that he must be wrong but the other attendant described my car in detail over the walky-talky. I could only imagine that my purse was on the floor and thus out of site. I then tried to assure him that my purse was inside my car but undoubtedly out of site and that I would pay him double if they would just let me have my car as I had to get a very important document back to my office.

His smirk made my skin crawl as he told me that he was sure everything could be worked out asking me to follow him.

Initially I thought that we were going to my car as he had the key with him. This would then clear up any mystery regarding my missing purse.

Instead we walked to a closed stairwell where he led me down a flight to level B-0. I know this because it was displayed in huge letters on the wall of the stairwell. I walked down the stairs and when I reached the bottom I hesitantly turned to see him sitting on the stairs behind me.

My senses screamed at me that something just wasn't quite right.

The door to my right opened and the other attendant came into the stairwell and joined his friend on the stairs.

I now had an audience of two nice looking young men with a very disconcerting look on their faces.

I decided to act indignantly and demanded to know what was going on. I am sure that they both could hear the quiver in my voice as I vainly attempted to assert myself.

They both looked at me and in a very smooth and silky voice, attendant #1 told me that I could have my car keys if I did a little striptease for them. 

My heart almost stopped and I found that I couldn't swallow. I am sure that my eyes were the size of dinner plates as my entire body went into panic mode as well as something else. I was feeling excited.

I just kept thinking that here I was again being told to perform for someone. The idea of it just seemed so unbelievable. I only wish that it didn't excite me each and every time I am told to strip.

Attendant #2 said, "Just take your blouse off for us." Making it seem like such a reasonable request. 

I had to be back to my office within the hour making me feel that I had little choice but to comply with their request. And after all it was only my blouse that they wanted me to take off. I even felt a little shudder of uncertainty wondering whether they would be disappointed once they saw how tiny I am on top.

Funny how I can go from feeling indignant and insulted, to nervous and apprehensive, to insecure about my breast size. I guess we are from Venus as the book implies.

I turned with my back facing them, barely controlled my trembling fingers as I undid each button and pulled the tails of my blouse from my pants. I then slipped it off of my shoulders and down each arm, one at a time.

My entire body shook as I pulled my hand from the second sleeve thus completing its removal.

I was so afraid to turn around, as I knew that my nipples had reacted to my unveiling in a most immodest manner.

I took a deep breath and thought, "OK, let's just get this over with" and turned around. I needed to get back to the office.

My pale blue bra had half cups with a scalloped edge that still easily covered my tiny breasts. Both attendants responded by brazenly adjusting their male members making sure that I saw them.

Attendant #1 said, "Let's see if her bottoms match the top." I wanted to object and remind them that they had only asked me to remove my blouse, but I couldn't find my voice. I was mesmerized by the look in their eyes as these two good looking, apparently sexually healthy, young men reveled in my discomfiture knowing that I had to do as they said or potentially lose my job.

I turned again to face away from them, but was told to face them this time. I can't quite explain the mixed feelings of embarrassment and total exhilaration as I watched them watch me undo my belt buckle, the clasp holding my navy blue pants closed, and then pull my zipper down as the skin of my lower abdomen flushed with the heat of my body's reaction to their power over me.

I realize that I should have been disgusted by their treatment of me, however to have two nice looking men in their 20's displaying sizable tent poles as I undid my pants was akin to taking an aphrodisiac.

I pushed my pants down my hips and then leaned against the B-0 painted wall behind me pulling each leg free from the linen fabric until all that was left was my matching pale blue bikini panties.

Any sense of myself was gone, as I felt totally helpless to their application of me as a personal plaything. I simply did as I was told posing for their camera phones with a hand on one hip, and later suggestively sticking out my bottom with my legs slightly apart. (I am not smiling in either picture no matter what it may look like! Well, OK maybe I am smiling.)

Their discussion of what they would like to do to me or have me do to them only caused the warm flush to expand over my entire body as the sensation of total submission further excited me.

I truly thought that I was finished when they started to whisper to each other. With another of his sly grins, attendant # 1 told me to play with myself for them and then I could leave.

I was horrified by their suggestion; more from the fact that it really excited me; and less from the fact that it would be so disgraceful.

It was just the other day as I drove home from my visit with Mr. Whitmore that I had fantasized about masturbating in front of someone and here I was being leered at by two young males while being told to do exactly that.

I shook my head in disbelief and they thought that I was refusing. "Don't be such a prude," one of them said. "If they only knew how wrong they were," I thought to myself slowly moving a hand up to my chest and rubbing it over the left cup of my bra.

I began to play with my nipple through the fabric of my bra causing it to poke out over the top. My audience's little yelp of pleasure informed me that it hadn't gone unnoticed.

I dared to take a quick glance at both of them and was captivated by the look in their eyes. Although for all practical purposes, they were in control of me, I now had their full attention. I pulled on the fabric between my bra cups and easily exposed the other of my two very erect and dark red nipples begging for attention.

While using my left hand to pinch and tweak my very ripe little nubs of flesh, I explored my bare flesh with my right hand by rubbing it over and then below my navel stopping just short of my panties.

Another quick glance told me that my two voyeurs were completely caught up by my performance, which only encouraged my raunchy display of self-pleasure.

I continued to rub my fingers across my very erect nipples again pulling on the fabric of my bra until both breasts were completely exposed.

The cool damp air of the stairwell only added to the delectable sensations caressing my bare skin.

If it hadn't been for their moans and groans of pleasure I could have easily imagined that I was alone. Although having them as my audience only increased my desire to perform.

My right hand continued to explore my bare stomach as I moved it down and around my tiny navel.

There continued comments of pleasure gave me all of the encouragement that I needed. The crotch of my panties had become quite slick from my manipulations and I could easily feel my hardened little pleasure knot sticking straight out.

I slipped my right hand down over the front of my panties until my fingers were between my legs. Then I pushed them into the thin gusset of my panties letting out my own moan of satisfaction. I then began to rub myself in earnest until the dampness of the fabric stuck to my crotch forming a very distinctive camel toe. The crotch of my panties had become quite slick from my manipulations and I knew that it was time to make direct contact.

. 

I was lost in my own little world of sexual craving and had lost any sense of modesty or decorum once my nipples were bared. I slipped my hand inside the top elastic of my bikini panties and easily found another knot of pleasure to explore. It already was slick and slippery providing me with the perfect surface to slip and slide my fingers over and around.

I spread my legs wide apart while leaning my back against the cool cement wall of the stairwell listening to the encouragement being uttered by my audience. "Yah, that's it. Do yourself for us."

As my fingers continued to explore my nether region my "uhs" and "ohs" became louder and more frequent.

The word, "Yes" seemed to have replaced the rest of my vocabulary, as it was all that I could utter as I came closer to my sexual destination.

Within a minute or two I was on the edge of a very intense and overdue orgasm. I opened my eyes for one last quick look before I came and my two attendants eyes were wide open while at the same time both were holding impressive erections through the fabric of their pants.

This visual was all that I required to drop over the edge. With a loud inhale of air followed by an equally loud moan of raw sexual pleasure my entire body formed into a singularly taut muscle before the first glorious spasm of my orgasm took me over.

My bare thighs gripped my right hand inside of my panties and I convulsed over and over again until I could feel the skin coming off of my back as it rubbed itself raw against the concrete wall.

My uhs and ohs echoed through the stairwell as one glorious spasm after another rocked me.

When I was about finished I again opened my eyes and looked directly at my two voyeurs. They were sitting holding their crotches with mouths wide open in complete disbelief to the exhibition I had just performed for them.

Slowly they got to their feet with attendant #1 telling me that I could go.

I am sure that they never expected a woman of my age or of any age for that matter to be so compliant with their requests. The fact that they didn't require more of me either speaks to their somewhat gentlemanly behavior or the simple shock of watching me masturbate for them.

If they had I am not sure that I could have declined as I was still quite infused with sexual energy.

It almost felt natural for me to be wearing just my undies and performing for two nice looking men. 

Is this truly who I am or truly who I want to be? I am afraid to find out.

They scooped up my clothes and escorted me to my car. I smiled to myself at how they led me to my parked car without ever getting in front of me. I knew that they were enjoying the view of me as I walked in just a bra and panties to my car, especially considering that the thin blue nylon of my panties were so soaked that they stuck to me making the material almost see through in front and in back.

I purposely exaggerated the swing in my hips as I walked in front of them enjoying their comments about my legs and bottom.

If I didn't have this contact to deliver I can't say what might have happened.

They never asked me to pay and said at least four times to come again. I may consider it from both aspects of the word 'come'.

I jumped into my car without bothering to get dressed and again found myself driving through the city traffic wearing a bra and panties without the benefit of a long sleeve t-shirt.

It wasn't until the first red light along with the stares that I realized I had never pulled my bra cups back over my still very erect nipples.

God, could I be any more suggestive?

A couple of men pulled along side of me and signaled to me that they either wanted me to suck on them or they wanted to squirt on me. This was not the kind of distraction that I needed right then as I had to get the contract back to my office.

It did occur to me that I might want to make a habit of driving around half naked but with some sort of mask on. I could really experience some good orgasms then.

What is wrong with me??

I finally pulled into the parking structure at work and jumped out of the car holding the envelope with the document in one hand and my car keys in the other. Just as I hit the button to lock all of the doors hearing the click and seeing the flash of lights to confirm my action, a gust of wind reminded me that I had nothing on other than my matching set of bra and panties.

My deadline with the document was to the exact minute and I had no more than 6 minutes left.

I pushed unlock, grabbed my blouse and pants holding them in front of my exposed body as best that I could and ran into the office.

It was easy to tell that my attempt to cover as much of me as possible was an utter failure as all eyes became wide open and glared at me.

Although the wait for the elevator was very short, I still stood there in a group of co-workers with my backside completely exposed trying to concentrate on my goal while I knew everyone else was concentrating on me.

That warm sensation started to creep between my legs just as the doors to the elevator opened. I quickly stepped inside to position my bare backside against the back wall. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to climb the 6 flights to my boss' office as I endured constant side-glances. One of our seemingly shy and silent IT managers named Harold was standing alongside of me and about two floors up I felt his hand reach around and squeeze my bottom.

In such a confined place I noticed the distinct odor of after orgasm that my crotch was emitting and was mortified.

I can't really say how many of the men recognized it since we seem to attract the type that don't get out much, but I am sure that each and every woman in the elevator knew the scent of pleasure.

One of our seemingly shy and silent IT managers named Harold was standing alongside of me and about two floors up I felt his hand reach around and squeeze my bottom.

Considering that I was still charged up from my recent performance, I reached around to his front and grabbed his erection pushing against the front of his trousers.

With just a couple of good tugs I could feel the spasms begin and knew that he was filling his boxers with crème. By the time the elevator doors opened he had a large wet spot spreading across the front of his khakis.

Serves him right for treating me like a slut, although I doubt if my reaction changed his mind. Oh well.

Thank God, I was the sole occupant after the first 4 levels so I took the time to put on my blouse as the best choice to cover me. Once the door opened I ran to my boss' personal assistant's desk and handed her the document, which she effectively scanned and emailed to its destination with 60 seconds to spar.

I simply collapsed in one of the outer office chairs and hung my head.

I sat there for the longest time with my pants draped across my lap creating the effect of an extremely short mini skirt trying to wrap my head around the last 60 minutes or so.

Heather, the personal assistant, asked me if she could do anything and I simply replied, "Try to keep me out of trouble, " although I knew that I didn't really mean it.



The Panty Perils of Me 18





Jackie called me out of the blue and invited me to go out with her and a group of her friends. It was just the kind of distraction that I needed considering my last couple of weeks. 

She told me that we would all be going to a favorite hangout of theirs. It was a "biker bar". She wanted to make sure that I was aware of this before I agreed to go out with them.

I told her that it made no difference to me and that I needed a break anyway. She told me that despite the kind of bar it was to wear something feminine.

I said that I would do my best.

Saturday night arrived and I put on a short, red suede motorcycle style of jacket, along with a very lightweight crème colored pleated mini skirt, and my red heels. I loved the combination of a leather jacket with a frilly skirt. It adds such a sexy contradiction to the term "feminine".

Underneath I wore a very tight fitting pair of tiny red bikini panties. I decided to forego wearing a bra under my jacket. The feeling of my bare skin against the red nylon lining of the jacket was so sensual that it kept my nipples hard.

You could say that I was a bit "hot to trot."

As the time approached for Jackie and her friends to arrive as they were going to pick me up I could hear off in the distance a low rumbling noise as if a thunder storm was rolling it except it was constant and getting louder.

As I looked out my front door, I saw two very large motorcycles coming down my street being ridden by what I could best describe as Amazon warrior women. They both were large, but not in a fat or heavy way. Each of the two women steering their motorcycles towards my front door had blonde hair escaping from their half helmets and easily looked to be 6 feet tall and very athletic. I was so mesmerized by there presence in my driveway that I didn't even notice Jackie sitting on the back of one of the bikes with her arms wrapped around the driver.

My entire neighborhood stopped whatever they were doing and watched.

The Amazons, which I soon learned to be the name to their motorcycle club as it was emblazoned on their jackets, were Susan and Heidi. Both were of Scandinavian descent with piercing blue eyes, and high cheekbones making them look like models. They had on skintight jeans, motorcycle boots, and brown leather jackets, which when unbuttoned revealed black fish net t-shirt tops with completely sheer black bras underneath.

They easily could have been bikini models or beach volleyball players. They were gorgeous.

Jackie was dressed more on the feminine side like me although she had on denim short shorts as opposed to a skirt.

"Let's go," she said to me as I considered how I was going to climb on the back of one of these "hogs" in a mini skirt. It might not have been such a big deal, but virtually the entire neighborhood had turned out and was watching us intently, including my favorite neighbor, Chatty Kathy.

It just didn't seem like a good time to show off my bright red panties to everyone.

Heidi, with whom I was going to be riding 'bitch' looked me straight in the eyes and said "Get on" as if it were an order and not a request.

I climbed on the back of her motorcycle trying to tuck what little fabric provided by my mini skirt between my legs and under my bottom to keep it from rising up my waist, however just as I was succeeding in my efforts, Heidi put the bike in gear, turned the accelerator with her wrist and off we went. My effort to maintain my modesty was absolutely futile as the hem of my skirt ripped itself free of my crotch and bottom and became a white halo of pleated fabric showing every part of me from my belly button on down.

As we sped away I gave a weak smile and little wave to all of my neighbors. I doubt if any one of them noticed, as it seemed that my red panties were attracting all of their attention. I think in a way I now know how a matador feels waving a red cape in front of a bull.

We rode through the city garnering curious as well as lewd looks as we rode by. At least at every red light my skirt would settle back down around my hips. But once Heidi rolled the accelerator with her hand, I was back on display to anyone driving along side of us.

I have to admit that normally this wouldn't have bothered me so much except I didn't know either of my Amazon companions and had a feeling that my reluctant exposure was possibly a theme that would be repeated throughout the evening.

The bar was located in the old warehouse area of town that had recently become the "it" place to be, as many of the warehouses had been turned into nightclubs, expensive lofts, trendy restaurants, and high end shopping. This particular warehouse had been decked out to look like a biker's bar with a huge beat up mahogany bar, a large dance floor and stage for a live band, beat up tables and chairs that fit right in with the look of the bar, and a mechanical bull pit.

The overhead lighting was made up of motorcycle headlights hanging over each table as well as numerous ones over the bar. I also noticed quite a few pinpoint spot lights recessed into the ceiling but at the time didn't think anything of it.

There were also motorcycle parts ingeniously turned into tables and chairs, railings, etc. to complete the depiction of a biker bar.

The big difference regarding the mechanical bull was the lack of a bull. The riding contraption was a fully decked out motorcycle without handlebars. It had a small leather loop on the gas tank to provide a place for the rider to hold on to.

The place was full of motorcycle clubs all displaying their colors on their leather vests.

The music was loud and it was rock and roll.

Hanging on one wall was a huge flat screen television that looked more like a small scoreboard playing scenes from various motorcycle gatherings such as Sturgis and Daytona Bike Week.

My entire body was vibrating with raw energy the moment we walked in and I loved everything about it.

Heidi and Susan led Jackie and I to a place right along the bar where a group of leather-clad women were expecting us. It was where the rest of The Amazons had gathered. Some of their black leather outfits were positively scandalous with tiny black bras and leather chaps with nothing else but a g-string or thong.

I was captivated by their raw sexuality as well as their toughness.

Shots of whiskey were ordered for all of us, which is not a typical drink for me, but how was I possibly going to complain. And it seemed that I wasn't going to be paying.

About an hour and 3 shots later the mechanical motorcycle began to start up and we all watched a parade of skimpily dressed women give their try at riding it. I must say that it seemed more like a sexy exhibition of T's and A's for the various biker gangs as one woman after the other wearing either a teeny bikini or a denim mini skirt with a crop top t-shirt gyrated their body parts as the mechanical motorcycle turned and twisted between their legs. Nothing about it seemed like a competition other than which of these women could fake an orgasm better than the other as they ground their crotches into the leather seat while letting out moans of simulated excitement.

It seemed a little ridiculous to me, but I guess that it provided entertainment to the crowd.

The last person to ride the motorcycle was a very effeminate young man with gorgeous features. If he had been dressed in drag I am not sure that I would have been able to tell that he was male.

He was wearing denim cutoffs that were so short they fit like a bikini. A bright pink-jeweled thong was plainly visible above his low cut shorts. He had a matching fish net pink t-shirt on along with pink flip-flops.

He climbed up onto the back of the motorcycle so sensuously that I felt he was sexier than any of the women who had preceded him.

As the mechanical motorcycle began its dips and turns he put on an amazing show that had most of us staring. The best part for me was when he leaned way back on the motorcycle seat lifting his legs straight out in front of him and slowly undid his denim shorts. Then by arching his back using nothing other than his balance to stay on the slowly turning pedestal he pulled the shorts all of the way down his legs and threw them into the crowd.

His t-shirt came off next and while straddling the motorcycle seat he performed an incredibly sexy series of gyrations and movements that made everyone forget that he was a man.

The tiny pink thong just added to the raw energy of his performance.

I was spellbound just watching him.

When he was finished and rejoined his group of gay bikers I downed one more shot of whisky only to hear Susan say to me, "Your turn."

I was caught completely off guard, as I didn't know that anyone was taking turns and no one else from our group had gone up to ride the motorcycle.

I politely declined saying that I wasn't exactly dressed to be riding in front of all these bikers. Of course, I had just ridden through town showing my undies off, which certainly seemed to contradict my objection.

My bluff was called and Heidi escorted me to the mechanical motorcycle. The controller lowered it so I could climb onto the seat. Once I was settled in with my skirt barely reaching the tops of my thighs, I placed both hands into the handhold and nodded my head.

The controller started off pretty slow moving the motorcycle back and forth in a rocking motion. I noticed that whenever he dipped the back of the motorcycle my skirt would ride well up to my crotch giving a pretty good peek of my red panties and whenever he lowered the front I could feel the difference in temperature on my bottom leaving me to assume that it was exposed as well.

I will give the controller some credit as he certainly knew what the crowd liked and manipulated the motorcycle to bring out the loudest cheers. Once he realized how my skirt easily moved to any subtle motion of the motorcycle he used it to my disadvantage.

As the motorcycle would lurch forward, my entire bottom would be lifted up off of the motorcycle seat while my skirt flew up well past my waist. When he lurched the motorcycle backwards the opposite would happen, as my skirt would stick to my chest until the motorcycle would lurch forward again.

Thus began a series of sudden and almost violent lurches as my skirt spent most of the time above my waist and my bright red panties slowly began to creep between my cheeks displaying more and more of my derriere.

And there was nothing that I could do about it unless I wanted to be thrown from the motorcycle. Granted there was padding all around it, but still the thought of being thrown through the air even to land on padded mattresses just didn't appeal to me.

So I resolved to endure the humiliation of having my panties on display until my turn on the mechanical motorcycle was over.

It seemed like I had already been on the bike longer than any of the other riders when the controller started to spin the motorcycle around jerking my body in the opposite direction, which applied a lot of pressure on the snaps of my suede jacket.

As he spun me in one direction and then suddenly changed the course of the bike to another direction I could feel my snaps giving away starting at the bottom of my jacket. At the same time the circular motion of the bike forced one leg after the other into the air providing my audience with a constant view between my legs.

I can't really say whether it was the leather of the motorcycle seat or my damned exhibitionistic nature, but before too long I could feel the waterworks starting from between my legs. My lower lips were becoming swollen from the constant rubbing of the motorcycle seat and my little love knot was starting to appear.

Just as I thought, "Could this get any worse? A violent lurch to my right unsnapped the remaining buttons of my jacket revealing two very distinct and erect nipples begging for attention.

The crowd immediately voiced their pleasure for my new exposure and the controller took full advantage of it. Now every turn or lurch opened my jacket wide as well as lifted my skirt completely to my waist.

Although I was still dressed I might as well have been wearing just my panties. The soaked feeling between my legs wasn't helping any either as I was starting to slip and slide off of the seat with every lurch of the motorcycle. There is a certain type of nylon fabric that I love the feel of and thus most of my panties are made of it. It is the type of fabric that when it gets wet for whatever reason becomes very slick and slippery particularly if the liquid is of a viscous nature. My panties were soaked in a liquid of this very nature and I could hardly maintain my seat on the motorcycle. As what sounded like a resounding and repeated cheer of "bitch, bitch, bitch" from the crowd, my arms finally gave out and I found myself flying through the air, arms and legs all akimbo, jacket wide open and skirt well up my waist.

I landed surprisingly softly on one of the huge pads missing both of my red high heels, my jacket wide open as the spotlight above me lit up my hard nipples for everyone to see and my skirt almost non existent as a cover for my panties.

While I was lying there on my back trying to compose myself I happened for the first time to notice a large printed sign hanging almost directly over the mechanical motorcycle that read, "Best Bitch Contest".

It slowly began to sink into my rattled brain that I was the "bitch" entry for The Amazon motorcycle club. So that's why Jackie told me to dress feminine.

Before any of this could really sink in I was grabbed by Heidi and lifted into a standing position. At the same time Jackie handed me my red heels and they both led me off of the pads and back to their place at the bar.

I was given some large thirst quenching concoction by one of the other members of the club, who by the way all looked like members of a female basketball team or volleyball team, as everyone was tall, muscular and perfectly proportioned.

I chugged it down not having any idea of how much alcohol was contained in it. Immediately I felt perfectly relaxed and OK with the world.

Somewhere shortly after this was when things really got crazy.

Susan said something about removing my skirt as everyone had seen my "cute little panties" anyway. Before I could object she popped open the tiny clasp in the side and unzipped the zipper. As further emphasis to her desire to extricate me of my skirt, she took a hold of both sides of the now unzipped fabric and simply tore it open until it completely unwrapped from my waist. With that she threw my abandoned skirt over the bar never to be seen again.

My jacket was still open and any attempt on my part to resnap it was met with a sound slap to my fingers. So this "bitch" was standing in the midst of this strikingly beautiful motorcycle gang in just my bright red panties and open jacket with my tiny headlights set on high beam.

I think that every member of the club took their turn at grabbing my cheeks and/or pinching my nipples, which certainly didn't help diminish the wet feeling between my legs.

As the night progressed and an announcement was made that the "Best Bitch" hadn't quite been chosen as yet, Heidi unceremoniously grabbed me by the crotch and hoisted me onto the bar.

As the band played "Born to be Wild" I was encouraged to "dance as if no one was watching". In my inebriated state it was actually quite easy to bring out my hidden "go go" dancer self and again I heard the chant go up, "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch."

It seemed that all of the other contenders in their teeny bikini swimsuit bottoms and overflowing bra tops looking like they had a night off from the local Gentleman's Club were no longer in contention.

The entire crowd had shifted their attention to me, the 40-year-old Mom with her bare breasts on display minus one skirt.

As I danced on the bar I noticed a number of the pinpoint spotlights focused on my various body parts and realized that just like the mechanical motorcycle, someone was able to control them. Also out of the corner of my eye I saw my image displayed on the huge flat screen letting me know that the bar was also equipped with cameras.

My panties had changed color from a bright to a deep red hue as more of my sweat mixed with the liquid emanating from between my legs.

As the song game to a close and the chanting of "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch" was hushed by the emcee, I was announced the winner of the "Best Bitch" contest.

I had to walk up on stage standing with the band and accept my small trophy cup as those pesky spotlights continued to light up my equally dark red crotch and very erect nipples. The entire time, my mechanical motorcycle performance and bar dance was played over and over on the large screen.

Even if I wanted to hide, there was no place to do it.

As I walked through the crowd back to my gang of motorcycle Amazons more than one stray hand explored my barely covered cheeks and soaked crotch making me fear that "Bitchs" may be shared between clubs.

Once I rejoined my group I was forced (although I didn't really put up much of a fight) to drink some alcoholic concoction out of it, which really chased my inhibitions away.

As the entire club now wanted to celebrate my new designation as their motorcycle bitch, Heidi pulled off my jacket laying me on my back prone on top of the bar. Some sort of padded cushion was placed under my head and shoulders so my body formed somewhat of a ramp from my nipples to my crotch.

My panties had taken on a deep red color as they were soaked both from the heat of the bar and my own excitement and my nipples had never stopped being erect since my mechanical motorcycle ride.

As I lay on top of the bar wearing just my panties and heels, the Amazon gang took turns drinking shots out of my navel, which actually tickled. However it wasn't long before they got a little more aggressive. They started to pour the alcohol over my now forever erect nipples and allow it to run down between my breasts, along my upper torso, over my stomach to pool inside my navel. The excess ran down my lower abdomen to further soak my red panties. Then each of the Amazons along with Jackie would take turns sucking on my nipples and then following the flow of alcohol down my body with their tongues.

I was getting quite over stimulated when the unexpected occurred.

Heidi poured a shot of alcohol into my mouth with the instructions to not swallow and then while she probed my mouth with her tongue she simultaneously sucked the liquid out of my mouth. It was the most delectable French kiss I had ever experienced. But that was just the start. She then did what everyone else had done except that she didn't stop at my navel. She followed the flow of alcohol down to my crotch and still using her tongue found my very exposed pleasure knot and began to suck the liquid from my panties while at the same time performing an incredibly effective fellatio on my erogenous zone.

When she started to lick the inside of my upper thighs I couldn't take any more and I let loose with a loud guttural moan and orgasmed violently convulsing back and forth on top of the bar.

The Amazons cheered me on as I spasmed over and over again. Once I was done, they started the entire process over again.

It was so unfair to have this group of women who knew exactly where to explore with their tongues and lips as the nylon of my panties stuck to every crook and crevice between my legs. What else could I do but continue to orgasm over and over again?

The overhead spotlights and what I later found out to be a camera placed directly above me transmitted each of my orgasmic spasms onto the large screen TV so the entire bar wouldn't miss every glorious detail including my "O" face.




The Panty Perils of Me 18



I would have been completely mortified and humiliated if I had any idea that this was going on, but under the circumstances I just lay there and experienced one orgasm after the other, after the other, after the other.

I can't tell you how many lips explored my nipples and crotch over the course of the evening but I am quite sure that it included other motorcycle gang members as well. I guess that pretty much defines what a motorcycle gang's "bitch" is.

As I was now completely exhausted by my multitude of orgasms, it was time for Heidi, Susan, and Jackie to take me home.

As we made our way towards the door the emcee asked the remaining crowd of bikers if "The Best Bitch" should take one last motorcycle ride. What a surprise when the resounding reply was "Yes."

I, of course, write this very sarcastically.

I was once again led to the mechanical motorcycle pit now in just my panties and before I could climb back on the seat an addition was made to the motorcycle. A long thin strip of very pliable rubber with a ridge down the middle was clipped to the middle of the motorcycle seat so it ran lengthwise. It was only about ¾'s of an inch high, however when I climbed onto the seat it ran perfectly right between my legs. Immediately I could feel it caressing my very sensitive knot.

You would think that the sensitivity of my pleasure pearl would have lessened but with each orgasm it only became more responsive.

I knew that this last ride was going to be a doozy. All I had to do was to shift my weight slightly and I could feel the ridge rub against my slick little kernel sending an exquisite bolt of electricity from my crotch to my brain clearly informing me that it felt good. It felt very, very good.

The operator started out by shaking the motorcycle back and forth like a giant vibrator and with each shake I let out a little moan rolling my eyes back into my head. Sure I could have let go of the strap and dropped to the pads without any further humiliation, but God, it felt so good.

The back and forth movements got faster and faster and within a very short time, my first motorcycle orgasm rocked my body.

I guess by the way my entire body went rigid and my thighs clamped tightly around the gas tank gave the unmistakable signal for the operator to stop the movement of the motorcycle and let everyone watch me convulse throwing my upper body to and fro until the last spasm was done.

Then the motorcycle started up again.

Only this time the fiend dipped it forward and backward resulting in my crotch rubbing back and forth on that 'devil' ridge. Although I was sure that I was done due to my extreme exhaustion, again my entire body tensed and as the another series of convulsions took over my body, the operator threw the front of the bike up into the air so my legs parted from the gas tank and I performed a very lewd but erotic scissors motion allowing everyone to see my soaked crotch undulate for the entire orgasm. This also placed the arm that was desperately holding onto the leather right between my legs making it appear like I was humping it.

The crowd of voyeurs loudly expressed their approval and the "Bitch" chant again resonated throughout the building.

I felt like I was making a porno movie as with every additional orgasm the operator would put my body in another forced pose to allow the entire place see what each and every body part of mine did while I orgasmed.

But did I let go of the strap? No, not even a little.

Finally I just couldn't take any more and as the front of the motorcycle was raised once more I slowly slid off the seat leaving a slick trail of liquid as I landed on the padding. I was completely done in.

Every part of me was drenched in sweat and I had a very musky but sexy odor emanating from every pore.

I couldn't get up myself, so Heidi and Jackie did the honors of picking me up and escorting me out the front door. 

I was led out of the bar with a final chant of "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch" from whoever was left and put on the "bitch" seat of Heidi's motorcycle.

She handed me my suede jacket so I didn't have to ride topless, although in my condition I doubt that I would have even known.

Despite the late or maybe I should say, early hour, I still garnered quite a few honks and lewd comments as I gripped Heidi around the waist wearing a flapping in the breeze suede jacket and panties. The vibration of the bike still stirred up a sexual reaction from my body, however it didn't get any further than erect nipples and swollen lower lips. My night of multiple orgasms was over.

I wished that their motorcycles didn't make so much noise as I am sure that they woke up most of my neighborhood as they deposited me at the front of my driveway. I received big hugs from all three with their hands placed firmly on my butt accompanied by wishes that "we should do this again".

My mind said "never" but my body responded quite differently.

So here I was once again walking up my driveway in just a pair of panties and heels.

I am sure that Ms. Chatty Cathy was looking out her window observing everything. It also wouldn't have surprised me to learn that a number of my married neighbors received some added attention from their husbands early that morning as well as more than one set of drapes and/or blinds were open to my panty stroll.

And just as before that damn motion detector light glared on spotlighting me once more in case some of my neighbors hadn't gotten a good enough look as I walked up my driveway.

I know that by now I should just accept myself for who I am, but the drive to preserve my once secure conservative persona is too strong despite the undeniable evidence of the past 3 months. Thankfully it is still summer so my daughters won't have to deal with all of the stories about their Mom in school.

I have to admit that I have never had such intense orgasms in my life as I have experienced over the past 3 months. How can I possibly return to any sort of a normal life?



The Panty Perils of Me 19





Is it inherent in some men to want to show off the woman that they are with? Do they receive a certain kind of egotistical pleasure in not only being seen with a certain kind of woman, but also, enjoy having them being seen by others? Do they get aroused when a woman accedes to their wishes, whatever they might be?

During our last special training session shortly after I had rubbed Reggie's erection with my very wet panty covered crotch by sitting directly on him while he performed bench presses, he had asked me to go out with him. Back in Panty Peril 10 as my payment for his training advice, I had devised my special way of spotting for Reggie, when he did bench presses, although it was always his exercise shorts that received the spotting or more specifically soaking.

We picked a day and time as well as a place for us to meet.

Our late summer evenings have recently had a hint of fall in the air, which prompted me to put on a pair of white stockings along with my beige lace garter belt with royal blue straps. I much prefer bare legs in the summer, however if the nighttime temperatures weren't going to cooperate, it didn't make any sense for me to be cold.

I wore my silk beige string bikini panties and triangle bra, as I loved the feel of silk on my bare skin as well as the unconstructed bra. It felt more like I was wearing a very sexy swimming suit as opposed to my undies.

Over my intimates I put on my cotton khaki colored shirtdress with the buttons that button from my neck to my knees despite the many predicaments that this dress has caused me in the past. Would the simple choice of this dress again find me exposed and vulnerable? Hey, I was going to be with the strength training coach for the university. What could possibly happen?

Over my dress I wore a very light tan linen jacket. And the piece de resistance' to my coordinated ensemble was my pair of brown lizard skin heels.

I was feeling pretty good about myself as I got into my car and headed to the University where we had agreed to meet. I parked the car in one of the lots on the University and then took the short walk to the rendezvous point.

It was a perfect kind of evening with no humidity and just the right kind of coolness in the air that has always provided me such an intoxicating feeling when caressing my bare skin. Even in spite of my multiple layers I could feel the cool night air through the buttonholes of my dress raising goose bumps on my upper thighs and between my legs.

Reggie looked quite good in his deep chocolate colored tight fitting polo and midnight blue pants. They perfectly showed off his fabulous physique and I found myself staring more than once at him. It also made me wonder whether men spend any time choosing what undies to wear like us women do. The image of Reggie wearing a pair of teeny bikini briefs barely covering his thick throbbing penis made me weak in the knees and started a lower faucet to leak.

It was difficult for me to concentrate on what Reggie was saying to me as my imagination sorted through a series of colored briefs, one more daring after the other.

I had to shake myself out of my fantasies or I would soak through my panties before we even arrived at the restaurant.

Reggie suggested a local restaurant that was in a short walking distance often frequented by students and the younger professors. I found his suggestion rather curious only because we would be around people that he knew. I wanted to be somewhere where I could explore his choice of underclothing.

We entered the restaurant and were seated by a very nice looking young woman that undoubtedly was a student of the university. Another nice looking young man handed us menus and took our drink orders. Reggie stayed with water and I decided to have a glass of wine, despite the fact that it often made me horny. "Too late for that anyway," I thought to myself.

The restaurant had an old English pub type of interior with wooden beam ceilings, heavy looking wooden tables and chairs along with booths set against the wall with large dining room style tables in front of the wooden bench style seats. The walls were a beige type of plaster purposely made to look rudimentary as opposed to a smooth and finished look. The lighting was soft coming from overhead chandeliers that resembled old gaslight style street lamps. It had a quiet and secluded sort of feel to it despite the number of people seated inside.

It made me feel rather special to be a part of the academic crowd seated inside with the strength trainer for the U as my date. It reminded me of times before I was married when I would put on something special underneath my dress hoping that I would be told to unveil myself before the night was over.

As these memories traveled through my mind it suddenly occurred to me that I have had this desire to be put on display for most of my adult life. And despite any embarrassment or humiliation that it might entail I enjoyed having to strip in public places where others might see me.

How could I have suppressed these old memories and desires for so long? And why were they all of a sudden controlling my every waking moment?

I was starting to understand why I felt such an overwhelming desire to act out. At least for me it seems that whatever I suppress comes back in a vengeance.

As my thoughts completely distracted me from anything that was happening around me a young couple stopped at out table to say "Hi" to Reggie. He said that he had heard that Reggie was looking to start his own business as a personal trainer during the off-season and that he and his wife might be interested. As he finished his comment Reggie introduced me along with saying that I was one of his prize clients. He continued to rave about me, which made me very self conscious as well as a bit proud of the shape that Reggie had gotten me into particularly at age 40.

While I was basking in his compliments, I heard Reggie say, "Show them your legs, Elizabeth." I was a bit taken aback by his casual manner, as I hadn't expected to be put on display as a part of our dinner. Isn't it funny how I had just been thinking about this exact situation when this couple arrived at our table?

I pulled my dress up to my thighs, which didn't require much as the simple act of sitting down had done most of the work for me. The young couple both looked at my stocking covered legs and complimented Reggie more than myself at how toned they looked.

Reggie pushed a little further saying, "Come on, Elizabeth, don't be so shy. Unbutton your dress and show them your thighs."

I didn't know exactly what else to do but to comply with his request. After all, he was bragging about me, wasn't he?

So I unbuttoned my three lowest buttons forgetting the fact that I had already left two buttons unbuttoned when I left the house to join Reggie. My shirtdress naturally opened itself. The two sides of the fabric slid down the sides of my legs opening my dress to reveal my crème colored stocking tops attached to my royal blue garter straps and my ivory colored silk encased crotch. The young man's eyes immediately honed in on the very center of the top of my thighs and I could feel that telltale tingling feeling beginning to invade my erogenous zone. I could tell immediately by the combination of her embarrassment and his leering that I had uncovered much more than I had intended.

Damn, my overwhelming need to please and submit to almost any person's wishes.

I tried to quickly cover my mistake by pulling the edges of my dress back together, but Reggie intervened by telling me to "leave my dress alone." I again allowed the edges of my dress to unfold giving the young couple a full view of my lingerie.

I saw the young man give Reggie a wink as they left, but never thought anything of it.

I would like to say that once they had passed on their comments to Reggie's handiwork and left that my embarrassment and humiliation was over, however it was just the beginning. As the evening progressed and I tried to enjoy our dinner together, one person after the other would stop by our table to say, "Hi" to Reggie as well as to comment on his desire to become a personal trainer. Each time I was told to turn my lower body out away from the sanctuary of the tablecloth to endure the stares of these strangers as I showed them my silk panties, garter straps and stocking tops.

Each time a new person arrived at our table I could feel the stirrings of a raw sexual energy invading my lower torso knowing that I would be showing them a view that not so long ago was reserved for just my husband.

My how things have changed in just a few short months.

When dinner was finally over and I reached down to rebutton my dress in order to go, Reggie again admonished me to "leave it alone." All eyes were on me as I was paraded past the other diners with the bottom of my shirtdress flapping open all of the way to my crotch every time I took a step forward.

It was precisely at this juncture that I noticed a very prominent and erect formation pushing against the fabric of Reggie's pants. He was enjoying my exposure and accompanying humiliation much more than I realized. He was sexually aroused by his control over me.

Once we were outside I decided to end the evening early and told him that I should be going. Despite my own arousal over my forced exposure, I didn't want it to go any further; or so I thought.

Reggie responded much like he had when I had earlier tried to rebutton my dress informing me that our date wasn't over yet and he had plans for me.

The words, "plans for me" lit a small fire right between my legs.

He then led me across the campus taking a path that he knew would result in us meeting more of his friends and acquaintances. Each time we met someone new, I was told to pull my dress open to "show them the results of my training."

However this time Reggie desired more of me to be exposed telling me to unbutton more buttons. 

With each button that I undid, he would say, "One more." Soon I was unbuttoned to just below my breastbone leaving everything revealed from the bottom of my bra to my toes.

Following his instructions, I was now required to pull the hanging fabric of my dress away from my body giving each and every potential client a full view of me from just under my breasts to my lizard skin heels.

A delectable vibration began to inhabit my lower lips as time and again I was told to expose myself to complete strangers.

And each time I held my dress open; Reggie's erection became more and more obvious.

When it seemed that my willingness to comply with Reggie's wishes had been tested to the limit a new twist was added. Now I was told to pull my dress above my waist holding the loose folds in my hands and turning my body away from the latest voyeur to let them see my "gluts". In essence I was now giving Reggie's cohorts an unobstructed view of my panty-covered bottom, while Reggie encouraged them to "Give 'em a squeeze. She won't mind."

At this point I again felt tiny water works starting to form inside the crotch of my panties.

A few of the men were a bit more aggressive with their "squeeze" slipping their hand up between legs while groping my inner thigh and rubbing me along my crotch. My eyes would roll back into my head and I forced myself to suppress the little moan that tried to escape my clenched lips as I was groped and fondled.

My lower lips were becoming very swollen and I could feel my little nub starting to push itself out from its moist aperture.

I know that I shouldn't feel these things when forced to expose myself but I can't help it. I like to be looked at and treated as a live pin up. It excites me to know that I am desired by others. I like the idea that when other men look at me they get an erection.

This is what fills me with loathing and requires me to want to be punished for my exhibitionistic tendencies. A good hard spanking cleanses me of my perceived sins and allows me to continue to subject myself to forced exposures and public stripping.

I realize that I am a complicated mess, however it certainly makes for a good story. J

Finally our little promenade through campus brought us to the gymnasium. I don't know what I expected next but certainly not this.

With Reggie's erection inflating the entire front of his pants, he told me to completely remove my dress and garter belt.

We were standing just on the outside of the exercise room doors where I could hear the weights clanking together telling me that we were not alone.

I slowly unbuttoned the remaining buttons slipping my dress from over my shoulders and handing it to Reggie in complete supplication to his wishes. There was no thought at all about my vulnerability or the potential for humiliation as I unclasped my garter belt from my stockings and unhooked the back.

With the continued echo of the weight machines just on the other side of the doors I stripped to just my bra, panties, and stockings looking into Reggie's eyes wondering what was next for me.

The feeling of anxiety and panic raced through every nerve ending. My thoughts of being led through the universities weight room in just my bra and panties caused delectable twinges and twitches between my legs. My lower lips were vibrating in anticipation of my imminent exposure. 

It was similar to the most exquisite form of foreplay standing almost naked hearing the grunts of male bodies and the clanking of weights on the other side of the door.

Reggie pushed the door open and with his hand on my lower back led me into a room filled with various weight machines, benches, bar bells, and stacks of free weights. Every young male's head turned towards us as we made our way to the center of the room.

Despite the warm air circulating inside the room, I was trembling like a newborn fawn being led to the wolves. My nipples throbbed as they pooped to attention clearly visible through the silk layer of fabric of my bra.

Reggie introduced me and then used me as his living and scantily clad model for everyone to ogle and leer at while he explained his ability to transform bodies to lean muscle and fitness.

My sense of self was gone as I allowed Reggie to twist me and turn me in every direction allowing all of the students present to see me from every angle and position.

I hated how excited and aroused it made me as I watched this group of young males stare at my exposure. 

Reggie squeezed and groped most of my exposed flesh as a demonstration of my fit and toned body, which only exasperated my excitement.

I was enjoying the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied my exposure, and it was filling my mind with erotic fantasies.

The entire time all I could think about was what it would be like to have all of these young men masturbate in front of me. To see all of them explode simultaneously in a single fireworks display of white crème.

Then my mind shifted to my original thought of seeing Reggie in just his undies and I wanted to be alone with him..........now!

Finally my erotic ordeal was over and we found ourselves back outdoors in a more secluded part of campus.

My entire body was vibrating with sexual tension as every pore oozed of raw passion. It could have been 20 degrees below zero outside and I think that I would have been toasty warm particularly between my legs. I was beyond any sort of reason or thought focusing on the single purpose of seeing Reggie explode into the night air.

I knew that my exposure along with Reggie's command over me excited him. He couldn't deny it, as it still was quite evident by the thick protrusion of hardened flesh pushing directly against the zipper of his pants.

My other self took over by taking a hold of his belt and pulling him towards me. "You liked that, didn't you? I purred to him. He replied, "Why don't you find out for yourself." So I did.

I unzipped his pants reaching inside the opening with my hand to feel his very thick and throbbing tube barely covered by what seemed to be a string bikini style brief very similar to a body builder's posing briefs.

I loved the feel of slippery nylon as I wrapped my hand around his pole and slid it down along the warm shaft.

Reggie led out a little moan.

Now knowing that he was wearing a tiny bikini brief brought my earlier fantasies to the forefront making me want to experience the whole visual of his barely covered erection, so I undid his belt, the two buttons of his pants, and pulled them down his legs.

This beautiful proportioned ebony skinned man was wearing the tiniest light blue nylon bikini briefs with a large circumcised penis head sticking out from underneath the elastic.

I was ecstatic to find that my erotic imagination had become real.

I couldn't help myself as I literally tore off his pants and polo exposing most every part of him for my greedy hands to explore. I wanted him to be as undressed as I was. The combination of his muscular body and thick penis barely covered by a pale blue bikini brief was glorious to behold. I was so close to orgasm and I hadn't even been touched.

I put one hand on his enormous chest playing with his nipple while my other hand rubbed his penis through the slippery nylon fabric of his briefs. I pressed my bare skin against him rubbing the tip of his penis against my bare stomach.

The heat of his erection against my bare flesh created the perfect contrast to the cool evening air. I was in heaven and I am sure Reggie wasn't that far behind me.

Each day after my workout I would straddle his waist while he performed bench presses sliding my slick nylon covered crotch along his thick member until he filled his exercise shorts with spunk. This time I encouraged him to hump my bare stomach while I teased his fully formed helmet with my belly button.

I loved the feel of his firm flesh pushing frantically against my bare stomach as Reggie neared orgasm. I kept my hand wrapped around his erection as he pushed his groin into me and pulled it away. It was easy to sense how it might feel to be impaled on this man's member as he ground himself into my warm skin.

With each push forward the elastic of his briefs would slip further down his shaft until most of him was exposed and rubbing against my tummy.

Every little twinge and shudder of his erection could be felt against my bare skin.

Soon I was pushing back into him as forcibly as he was pushing into me. I wanted him to squirt, to feel his hot sticky goo splash across my stomach, dripping down to pool inside my navel and then soaking the top of my panties.

It wasn't long before Reggie had both hands firmly gripping my buttocks while grinding his thick member into my belly.

The first spurt of his hot crème erupted between our pressed flesh covering our stomachs all of the way to our chins in glorious white goo. I loved the feel of his thick ejaculate as it coated my bare skin.

With each subsequent spurt Reggie's entire body would shudder and he would grip my bottom even tighter. I was on the edge of my own orgasm when his spasms became less frequent and his liquid emissions had almost ceased.

While he was still gripping my behind allowing the last droplets to ooze out onto my skin, I slipped my hand down between my legs and with a single touch of my protruding kernel, I induced my own orgasm.

The intensity was incredible as I convulsed over and over again while enclosed inside the grip of Reggie's muscular arms.

Finally as all of our mutual shudders, spasms, and convulsions had ceased we pulled ourselves away from each other.

We looked like the aftermath of the "money shot" from a porno film. I slipped Reggie's flaccid but still thick member back inside his bikini briefs, scooped up our clothes and allowed him to lead me back towards the workout facility. We snuck into the locker room of the team's exercise facility using Reggie's key. 




The Panty Perils of Me 19



Normally once a person experiences an intense orgasm their mind snaps back into a more conservative mode of thinking and the realization that they are almost naked in a public place dripping of sex would cause them a great deal of panic. I seem to be just the opposite. Our little walk back towards the exercise facility extremely aroused me knowing that at any time we might be seem by any number of trustees, deans, administrative heads, faculty, etc. I wanted to reach down inside my panties and play with myself reveling in all of the sensations of being so vulnerable and exposed. Reggie certainly wasn't of the same mind and kept me on course to a side entrance to the locker room. Once inside I stripped down to nothing but my panties as I still felt that I shouldn't be naked in front of another man and my panties needed a good washing anyway. We walked into the shower room, which consisted of a large open area with multiple showerheads attached to central poles facing in all directions. When turned on every showerhead that faced in our direction getting jets of warm water to hit us on all sides. I took a hold of Reggie's light blue briefs pulling them off of his awakening penis slipping them completely off his legs. One of us needed to be totally naked and why shouldn't it be him considering that I was in just my undies for most of the evening.

I then soaped Reggie while he soaped me resulting in another splash of thick white liquid whose evidence quickly washed down the drain. 

If he wasn't so darn thick I would have climbed on his extension and let him ram me into the tiled wall of the shower, while my screams of ecstasy echoed off the tiles, but I was truthfully frightened by his size. However his fingers performed all of the magic that I required as they explored all of my hard to reach areas allowing me to shake, rattle, and roll repeatedly as the warm water cascaded over our naked bodies.

Ok, Ok. I realize that I am a bit contradictory by keeping my panties on while at the same time allowing my personal trainer to slip his fingers down inside the waistband to explore my nether regions. But considering all that I have shared with you regarding my panty perils, does this surprise you?

When we were as squeaky clean as we were going to get, I toweled myself off and then stood topless under one of the hand dryers until my panties were dry. With his towel wrapped around his waist Reggie watched as I stood in front of the dryer with my nipples sticking straight out from my breasts turning this way and that way to completely dry the silk fabric of my panties. I was treated to the view of another resurrection of his male member as he stood watching me.

It seemed a shame to let it remain so erect but it was getting quite late and I knew that I needed to get home.

As my final surprise for the evening and once we were back in our clothes, Reggie turned to me with a very mischievous smile confessing to me that he had no plans to become a personal trainer. The entire evening had been set up by him and his friends to allow him to fulfill one of his longtime fantasies. 

I feigned my displeasure with him, but it was quite easy to see through my façade. How could I make him believe that I was angry after I had just orgasmed multiple times as a result of his ruse?

I gave him a big hug telling him that I would see him on Friday for another special training session. With one final stroke of my hand along the front of his pants I left the locker room and headed to my car.

As I drove myself home I opened up enough buttons to allow one hand to slip inside my still damp panties and experienced one more orgasm to end my evening. I am quite sure that it was Kathy who was out walking her dog after midnight as my head flew back and I let out a primal yell of "Oh God" just as I drove by.

After all why should this night have been any different from my other unexpected meetings with my nosey neighbor?



The Panty Perils of Me 20





You are probably wondering what has happened to Arnold. My gangly, awkward, but very cute 19-year-old neighbor who discovered a little fetish for my panties was back at college for another year.

Now just because I haven't written about him in a while doesn't mean that he has gone unnoticed or ignored.

I made it a singular goal of mine to keep Arnold erect for the remainder of the summer that he was still home. You see I have Arnold's cell phone number and would text him anytime that I was going outside to:

Work in the garden wearing a pair of bare cheek showing denim shorts.

Pull weeds from our lawn in a string bikini-swimming suit.

Paint the railing on our back porch in a denim mini skirt that barely covered my assets and would rise up revealing my panties whenever I bent over.

Needed help bringing in the groceries while my blouse somehow was unbuttoned to my navel.

I think that you get the picture.

Arnold spent quite a bit of his summer helping me wherever and when ever I needed it and was always rewarded with a trip to my garage where I would drop my skirt or shorts to feed his panty fetish and watch him masturbate in front of me.

I can't tell you how many times Arnold hosed down the floor of the garage both literally and figuratively. I had the cleanest garage floor in the entire neighborhood.

But he was off to school and I missed him.

Arnold was no longer attending the university in our town, which was such a shame. His parents were none to happy with Arnold's preoccupations and influences acquired over the summer. You see, ever since I caught Arnold wearing a pair of my panties and then had my way with him so to speak, I have decided to foster his panty fetish.

As I heard his parents tell it at one of our neighborhood gatherings, they found some "little slut's panties" hidden away in his closet. Along with that his mother noticed Arnold doing his own laundry. Her own words were, "for God only knows what reason."

I suspect that Arnold needed his boxers washed a bit more often than his mother's singular laundry day of the week.

I actually liked being referred to as a "little slut" as they were my panties that Arnold's father found. I can only wonder where they are now and since they haven't been returned to me would surmise that they have no idea that they belonged to me or Arnold's father has his own little fetish.

Anyway as a result of the "bad influence " their son had fallen into they enrolled him into a very strict religion based university about 2 hours away. Although they had coed dorms it was limited to boys on one floor and girls on the other with a dorm monitor limiting access to floors of the opposite sex.

After all they couldn't have young men and young women cohabitating. Just think of all the panties that would go missing.

As for Arnold, I insisted that he send me a copy of his class schedule so I knew what he was doing and when. It made it quite easy for me to continue to tease him and to keep his libido active. Once a week I would send him a little care package consisting of a pair of my panties.

The package always included a little note with instructions telling him when he should be wearing them. On the recommended days I made it a point to call him just as his class was ending and to provide him with a little release from his drudgery as well as any pent up horniness.

Normally the conversation was one sided as I essentially told him what I wanted him to do.

"Hi, Arnold. Do you miss me? I miss you."

"Are you wearing anything special today? You are? Are they tiny and satiny feeling? How does your penis like being inside my panties? I thought so."

"Is the cute little head trying to poke out the top of the elastic?" (Actually Arnold's penis was like a duplicate of himself. It was long, not particularly thick, and stood straight up in the air when fully erect. The head was very prominent with a well-formed ridge that was extremely sensitive to my touch. Naughty me!)

"Well, we will need to do something about that won't we? Are you near a bathroom where I can have you do me a favor? Good."

At this point Arnold would find the closest men's room and retreat to one of the stalls.

"Are you alone? Then I want you to take your pants completely off for me so nothing covers my panties. I bet you look fabulous in bright red, yellow, lilac, etc. Now put that naughty little head of yours back inside my panties. (I knew from my garage experiences that the ridge of Arnold's penis would be facing out against the nylon fabric of my panties.)

I want you to find your delectable ridge and begin to rub it with the knuckles of your hand."

In a very short while I would hear Arnold's breathing change as he became more and more aroused.

"Does that feel good, my college man? Do you wish that I was there to watch you?" (He always responded with a moan.)

"Are you getting bigger? Is it becoming too difficult to keep yourself inside my panties?" (More moans)

"Why don't you pull yourself out and show me how you can spurt? I want you to spurt on the inside of the door of the stall. I want to hear you moan for me and say my name as you squirt."

I loved to hear him approach his orgasm and then explode. Arnold would start with "Oh, Ms. Harley, Oh, Ms. Harley, Oh god, Ms. Harley, Oh god."

With each pause I would answer, "Yes, Arnold. I am right here. Good boy. Keep stroking yourself. Show me how you can squirt."

As the pauses between his 'Oh, Ms. Harley" became non-existent, I knew that he was about to explode. And then all I heard was, "Huh, huh, huh," following what I knew to be every spasm as he unloaded his spunk splashing the door of the stall and then dripping onto the floor.

This was the sexiest part for me and often I found my hand reaching down the inside of my shorts to find a very wet and waiting little kernel begging for my touch. I never wanted Arnold to hear me masturbate so I held myself just on the edge of orgasm as I told him to get some paper towels from the bathroom dispenser and to clean up after himself. I wouldn't let him put his pants back on requiring him to clean up the stall wearing my panties and whatever shirt or t-shirt he was wearing.

I could imagine him bending over as the tight nylon of my panties stretched across his tiny bottom while he scrubbed his crème from the floor and stall door. I would stifle my own moan as I told him what a good little panty boy he was.

He would always protest that someone might enter the bathroom and see him wearing my panties. I would simply state that if he didn't do as I said then I wouldn't send him any more gifts or call.

Funny how the simple threat to withhold sex is the end of the world to a 19 year old. I knew that I could have gotten Arnold to do just about anything for me, but that wasn't the point. And besides I rather enjoy being on the other end when any instructions to perform are being handed out.

Then when he was done with his pants back on I would let him know how pleased I was and that I would be sending him another little gift real soon.

Arnold would always tell me that he had never met anyone like me and how much he liked me, etc. etc. I enjoyed hearing everything that he had to say but also needed to get off the phone so I could take care of my own needs, which I did just as soon as we said goodbye.

Once my personal playtime was over I would slip out of my moist and aromatic panties placing them into a zip lock plastic baggie and by the next day they were in a padded envelope making there way to Arnold.

He would always return my gifts recently washed and neatly folded so I didn't have to constantly be buying new panties. I would take them out of the package that they were in and hold them directly against my nose. I could still smell the faint musky odor of his spunk, which always got me dripping. 

This had been going on for quite a few weeks and it was making me that much hornier. So when I saw that I had a weekend coming up to myself I decided to take the 2-hour drive to Arnold's university and pay a personal visit to my favorite panty boy.

I could easily go up there for the day and be back by late evening. It seemed perfect.

I texted Arnold telling him to be in his dorm room at the specific time that I expected to arrive promising a special surprise for him. The fact that he would guess that I was coming to see him would assure me that he would be there, so I didn't try to make him think otherwise.

Saturday morning came all wet and rainy but certainly didn't dampen any part of me other than a certain area between my legs. I put on a pair of beige thigh high stockings, my purple string bikini panties, no bra and a very form fitting purple knit dress. Slipped on my lizard skin heels and a raincoat and I was off.

The drive was pretty easy although the rain came down the entire time and seemed that it was going to stay for the entire day. 

I arrived at Arnold's university around 1:00 p.m., parking in a lot just across from his dorm. Reaching for my umbrella I prepared to exit the car when a wicked little thought entered my mind. It was a given that Arnold was expecting me, and he would certainly enjoy my form fitting dress that gave little hints regarding my under attire or lack thereof.

What if I did something that he wouldn't expect, which at the same time would give me all of the feelings of anxiety and vulnerability that I have come to enjoy?

About 15 minutes later following a small wardrobe adjustment I was standing in front of the front desk of Arnold's dorm. I explained that I was Arnold's aunt and they asked me to sign in. Once done I rode the elevator to Arnold's floor receiving a good share of looks and leers from the college men occupying the elevator. Considering my wardrobe change I found myself visibly shaking within the close confines of the elevator. Finally the doors opened and I was knocking on Arnold's dorm room door.

I could hear him scramble on the other side of the door probably making sure that his room was ready for company. As the doorknob slowly turned I could feel my entire body ooze with sexual anticipation.

My heart was beating loud and fast as the door opened and Arnold's expectant face greeted mine.

I grabbed him giving him a big hug. As he hugged me back I could feel his hands slip down my lower back exploring the top of my buttocks. It all was so delicious.

"Would you take my coat?" I asked and Arnold walked around me as I undid the belt. As I opened it I could feel my entire body form goose bumps as the air-conditioned air assaulted my bare skin.

Arnold pulled my coat down and off of my shoulders, and I heard a delightful little gasp escape his lips.

My little erotic inspiration as I was about to leave the car resulted in the removal of my dress and now I was standing in Arnold's dorm room in nothing but my purple panties, stockings, and heels with all of the sounds of student activity just on the other side of the door.

He could have hung my raincoat on either one of my nipples as they were sticking straight out from my breasts fully erect.

Although my entire body was vibrating with the most delectable waves of arousal I acted as non-chalantly as I could and began to scold Arnold for keeping such a disorganized room. My other erotic inspiration was to act like Arnold's own mother and to put his room in order while wearing just my panties. How's that for an Oedipal complexity?

Arnold was completely flustered and completely turned on as he stuttered something about how someone could enter his room at any time i.e. dorm room monitors.

Arnold was attending a strict religion based university and I was certainly not the type of guest that they commonly allowed. The only reason that I was able to walk right to his door was my age and the maindesk's believe that we were related. If they only knew how we were related.

I then began to sort through his entire dorm room moving things, refolding clothes, organizing books and papers, bending, twisting, and turning so every side of me was exposed and vulnerable to Arnold's view.

God, I was excited.

The whole idea that at any moment I might be discovered wearing so very little with my only form of cover hanging neatly in Arnold's closet was making me crazy. The more I walked around pretending to sort and organize, the more aroused I became.

Arnold's extreme discomfort and contradicting erection only added to my excitement.

Can you imagine being a young college student away from home for the first time and having your next door neighbor, whom you have spied on from the time you first started having wet dreams, cleaning your dorm room in just a pair of purple string bikini panties? Just the thought of acting out such a pubescent fantasy was making me dizzy with excitement.

When I had left home this morning I had no idea how perfectly erotic this visit would turn out. 

While sorting through his closet I found a small plastic bin lined with delicate tissue paper much like the kind that fine lingerie is wrapped in before leaving the store. I opened the top and discovered my panty collection. It was time to have Arnold perform for me.

It had been far too long since I had enjoyed watching him splash his joy juice across my garage floor.

I pulled out the three pairs of nylon panties that were still in his possession and handed them to him. Then I draped my almost naked body across his large overstuffed chair and instructed him to "model for me."

Off came his pants and boxers. Watching him try to fit his long extension into a pair of my size small string bikini panties was a joy to behold. Just watching him take a hold of his long erection made me giddy.

Once everything was contained I told him to show me how he masturbated whenever I called him. 

I could tell that he was embarrassed but at the same time was getting very turned on by the prospect of playing with himself while I watched. Does any of this sound familiar? I think that I have had similar episodes of arousal while masturbating to an audience.

He reached with one hand down between his legs pushing his two middle fingers against his scrotum causing his erection to push forward. The stretchy nylon fabric of my panties barely contained him as the head of his penis was now along his right hip. The string side of my panties stretched tautly along the ridge of his helmet giving the entire scene a bit of a bondage feel to it. Yummy!

He then began to vibrate his knuckles directly over his prominent ridge and immediately I watched his eyes roll back into his other head.

It was about the most erotic thing that I have ever witnessed. It took every bit of my will power not to join him in satisfying myself. Instead I found myself crossing and recrossing my legs while gripping my thighs together as tightly as I could.

In very short order his erection popped out from underneath the elastic of my panties. Arnold then gripped his shaft with his free hand and began to stroke himself back and forth pushing his groin out towards me.

I was definitely in the line of fire watching the barrel of his squirt gun open and close each time he stroked it.

I motioned him towards me taking his hand off of his penis and salivated all over the head and shaft until it absolutely glistened. Then I placed his hand back on his shaft and his performance continued.

Just as he was about to explode (I could tell by the frequency of his "Oh, Ms. Harley's") there was a knock on his door.

Both of our eyes bugged out of our heads and I had one of my "dumb brunette' moments. I quickly pulled Arnold's throbbing and dripping erection into my mouth. For some unknown reason I thought that he would make less noise if he squirted into my mouth.

There was no stopping him for as soon as my lips wrapped themselves around his erection Arnold's entire body went rigid and I felt a jolt as I received a mouthful of his hot spunk.

Somehow at the same time, Arnold was able to ask, "Who is it?" to the knock on the door.

The response came, "This is Matt, your floor monitor. I just need to check on you and your guest."

Another jolt and another splash of thick juice hit the back of my throat.

"I'm a little busy right now," Arnold responded.

Another jolt as Arnold's hands wrapped themselves around the back of my head holding me firmly in place.

"Click" went the knob as it turned and I watched the door opening directly behind Arnold.

Two more spasms shook Arnold's body while he gripped my head.

"Oh!" was the exclamation from Matt's mouth as he walked in on our very private and lewd performance.

I felt a dribble of Arnold's secretion run down my chin and then between my bare breasts.

Matt wasn't about to leave or close the door. He was frozen in place staring at what to him was Arnold's aunt performing fellatio on Arnold while clothed in just her panties.

I am sure that he didn't even realize it but I noticed him rub his hand across what seemed to be a newly arrived addition to his underwear. I would guess that it was about 6 inches long. 

Somehow I grabbed a pillow from the chair that I was sitting on and pushed it into Arnold's groin. I was barely able to swallow the mouthful that Arnold had deposited in my mouth without choking.

I probably should have grabbed another pillow to cover my own nakedness, but I didn't want Matt's very expressive eyes to look elsewhere.

It was intoxicating to be stared at so openly and unashamed.

My need to show off was in full force as I leaned back into the cushy chair and smiled while still wearing a white dribble of Arnold on my chin.

Arnold then turned to face Matt and as he struggled for an explanation I whispered "Shhh" to him. I knew that it would be best to allow Matt to draw his own conclusions and doubted very much that any sort of violation would be reported.

Just scroll back up this page to the part where I describe most young men's fantasies and you will understand my thinking.

Matt starred at my bare breasts, two very erect and firm nipples, my purple string bikini panties, particularly my crotch, and I just continued to smile. I doubt that he even noticed my bright red panties now situated around Arnold's thighs.

Finally after taking the time to etch the entire scene into his brain for future masturbatory reference he said, "Ok, then," turned and left.

I knew very well that within the next 30 minutes most of the dorm would be aware of Arnold's sexual prowess. After all hadn't he just seduced his dear loving aunt into stripping to just her panties and sucking his penis?

That is exactly how reputations are formed i.e. misinformation and exaggeration.

Once we were alone again I cooed to Arnold, "Oooh, You are such a naughty boy, making your auntie do such bad things." I turned my body around sticking my bottom out towards Arnold while looking over my shoulder at him saying "How could you do this to me? I feel so used."

Just like that his erection was again in full form.

I rose from the chair, pushed him back, making him lie down on the floor. I then straddled his long dong riding him like a wild mustang until I got my reward as well. Once everything between my legs was thoroughly soaked I worked my crotch up his torso and settled it right on his face.

I then began to rub myself back and forth across his chin making sure that my very sensitive kernel was making full contact.

Now it was my turn as I almost screamed, "Oh! Arnold" making sure that my orgasmic revelry was heard well down the hallway. 

My repetitions of "Oh, god, Oh, god" were probably a little over done, but I wanted to assure everyone within earshot heard me orgasm.




The Panty Perils of Me 20



It is so safe to act out when hidden away on the other side of a door, so I really put my heart into it as well as my crotch.

When I had left the car without my dress to call on Arnold it had never occurred to me how much I could help his reputation simply by making a visual and vocal spectacle of myself.

Arnold was a very sexy young man and would be a very lucky catch for any young lady. All he needed was a little jump-start. I became that jump-start as he was giving me mine.

As it was now close to 5:00, I needed to be on my way. Leaving Arnold lying on the floor, I lent down and gave him a big kiss on his crotch soaked lips. (I was surprised at how good I tasted.)

I wrapped my raincoat around my still barely dressed torso and walked out of his room.

There was a surprising number of young men hanging out in the hallway as I luxuriated in their stares slowly making my way to the elevator. I purposely put my hands in the pockets of my raincoat pulling the fabric taut across my bottom giving them a very prominent panty line to ogle as I headed down the hall.

The elevator was equally crowded as I continued to be the center of attention.

The temptation to drop my coat and walk out in just my panties was overwhelming. My lower water works had again sprung a leak.

As I made my final trek across the lobby area to the front doors of the dorm, I heard my name, Ms. Harley, called from behind me. I turned to see Matt calling from behind the desk. "You need to sign out," he exhorted.

I really doubt that this was a necessary procedure, but I complied anyway.

Just as I neared the front desk my heels caught on a raised tile and I found myself swan diving towards the floor. A number of hands reached out to break my fall with one of them grabbing a hold of my raincoat still only secured by the belt.

My momentum forward combined with the clutching hand's momentum backward pulled my coat off of my shoulders and well down my back leaving me with my arms bound to my sides as my breasts popped free of their cover.

As long as the student continued to hold my raincoat I was virtually topless in a straightjacket style of confinement.

The feelings of humiliation and vulnerability flooded through me. The flush of red coursed through my upper body as I tried to extricate myself from this young man's grasp. All eyes were on me as I pulled myself free of my jacket leaving me standing in the midst of so many young men and women wearing purple panties, beige stockings, and lizard skin heels.

I was completely mortified as a hush fell over the gathering.

Playing sexpot in Arnold's dorm room with a single eyewitness all the while having control of the situation was quite a bit different than being so publicly exposed. God, why did it feel so exciting?

Somehow I collected myself, taking my raincoat away from the young man who had accidentally stripped me of any pretense of dignity. I walked to the front desk where Matt was awaiting my signature, took the offered pen and signed myself out.

With my coat still draped over my arm I followed my very erect and puffy nipples out the front door, across the street, and to my car.

For the next two hours, instead of delighting in my expansion of Arnold's reputation, the memory and accompanying feelings of the last few minutes of my visit played over and over in my mind. The entire time I drove with the lower flaps of my raincoat open to my crotch allowing me to continuously massage my little nub through the thin fabric of my very wet panties.

Each time I was close, I would find a safe place to pull over and welcome the intense waves of orgasm as they engulfed my body.

I am sure that more than one driver wondered at the sight of a woman pulled over into the breakdown lane with her head thrown back and mouth wide open as her lower body convulsed with an erotic rhythm.

After four of these stops, I was beginning to feel somewhat normal again.

Then that all too familiar feeling of self-loathing started to invade my psyche. I continuously berated myself for behaving so shamelessly. After all I was a mother and a wife. How could I possibly act so out of control? What is wrong with me that I become so aroused showing myself off or being shown off? This just isn't how a sane woman should act.

I wanted to be purged of my salacious fantasies and desires. I wanted to see the professor.



The Panty Perils of Me 21





I have had the professor on my mind non-stop for the past three weeks. I think that I might be obsessed with him a little. I don't care. There is an aura about him that makes my knees weak and my crotch moist every time I just hear his name. I still had Sunday to myself and after my inexcusable performance yesterday with Arnold I needed to see him.

I went into my bedroom and changed into something that I knew he would like.

I put on an all white ensemble that consisted of a white lace demi cup bra that pushed my breasts up putting my tiny nipples on display barely hidden behind a layer of sheer lace, a tiny white bikini panty with cute little bows on each hip, a white cotton mini skirt, and a matching white cotton jacket that barely reached the top of my mini skirt. As my last touch of white I put on white circle earrings. And just to break the monotony of white I wore my tan summer heels.

I knew that the professor (I guess at this point I can use his given name. It is Edward) would appreciate my choice of attire. The choice of what normally is considered a chaste and pure color on such a sexually charged woman as myself could only serve to inspire his imagination as well as to test my willingness to accede to whatever he might ask me to do.

I wanted his assistance in determining who I really was.

I felt that his background in psychology and sexual fantasies and fetishes could help me resolve my overwhelming issues surrounding my need to act out sexually.

I simply vibrated thinking about what he might dream up for me and found it quite difficult to not run down the block to his house. I wanted to wait until early afternoon but it was excruciating to be ready and willing with another 2 hours to wait.

I paced back and forth through my empty house. 

I probably should have spent my time worrying about what my family might have heard or knew about my recent adventures, but I was too excited to think about anything other than my afternoon with Edward.

Finally the time arrived to leave and I nervously began my trek towards his house. 

It had been too long since I had last enjoyed his firm hand across my almost bare bottom or looked into his eyes as he told me to undress to just my bra and panties.

The effect that this older man has on me is addictive and every part of my body was responding to it as I made my way to his front porch.

As I stood in front of his screen door my hand was shaking too much to even ring the doorbell, so I forced myself to take a number of deep breaths to relax. Almost immediately after I pushed the button to ring the bell I was greeted by the sound of his firm but pleasant voice telling me to "Come in." My shaking came back in full force as I pulled the handle on the screen door and entered his living room.

He was sitting in his overstuffed deep mahogany colored leather chair and the sight of him almost made my knees buckle.

Edward was wearing a light blue dress shirt untucked at the waist along with a beautiful pair of camel colored cotton slacks. His feet were bare giving him the perfect mixture of casual and formal.

I didn't realize how much I had missed him until I saw his deep-set hazel eyes turn towards me looking at me and through me at the same time. I watched the corner of his lips rise in a faint smile as his eyes explored every inch of me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

It felt like a very pleasant heat ray was exploring my body and immediately my tiny nipples popped into full erection. At the same time a very seductive pulsing was beginning right between my legs.

He told me to sit down and motioned to the couch directly opposite him. Even if I had wanted to decline I couldn't have as I was completely hypnotized by him. As I walked to the couch and sat down I continued to watch him watch me. I loved how his face showed the joy that he experienced just by looking at me. It was like the ultimate aphrodisiac.

As I sat down on the couch I saw his eyes wander to just below my waist and immediately knew that my white cotton mini skirt had provided him a glimpse of my upper thighs as well as possibly more.

What was so magical about my feelings towards him is that I wanted him to see me i.e. as much more of me as he wanted to.

To see the pleasure in his eyes as I basically performed for him filled me with the desire to do more. I was his, body and soul, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

He asked me to tell him what had been happening in my life since we last met and I shared with him everything about my time with Mr. Whitmore, my experience in the parking garage, my evening with the Amazons, my dinner date with Reggie, the previous day with Arnold and my impromptu unveiling, ending my soliloquy with all of the chance meetings with our mutual neighbor, Chatty Kathy 

It felt so free for me to be able to tell him everything about these experiences including my feelings of humiliation that would turn to raw excitement and pleasure and then end in utter despair.

I did notice that my mention of Kathy brought a slight rise of his eyebrow and wondered what that meant.

He sat and listened to everything I had to say while time-to-time asking me to elaborate on details that he knew I was trying to conceal from him out of embarrassment.

When I was done, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders and that I had done nothing wrong other than to experience life as it should be experienced.

During the entire time that I was talking, I became more and more animated as I basically relived each experience as I told it to Edward. By the end I found my skirt well up my thighs as I had moved my body forward to the edge of the couch as well as opened my legs slightly allowing Edward to see my choice of white panties.

When I realized my new positioning and how Edward had still listened to every word that I had said along with providing his own input and interpretation to my feelings without becoming distracted by the view up my skirt, I felt myself pretty much melt in the realization that this older and very intelligent man was my ideal.

He had already confessed that he loved to look at me particularly in my undies, but it didn't distract him from treating me like an equally intelligent and special woman. I wasn't just a toy for him to take pleasure from, although I am not sure whether that would have made any difference.

As I relaxed in the aftermath of pouring my soul out to him, he looked at me directly in the eyes saying, "Remember when I told you that from time to time I would ask you to do me a favor?" I simply nodded my head but felt all those special places in my body come alive.

"I want you to slip out of your skirt and jacket; get two large glasses of ice along with the pitcher of ice tea that is cooling in the refrigerator, and join me on the back porch."

Now our neighborhood consists of mostly two story homes built in the forties that might be referred to as bungalows. A short driveway separates the houses with a single car garage located to the side and just behind each house. What makes our area unique is how all of our backyards basically converge to form one large common area. Many of my neighbors have either back porches or decks that allow them to basically watch the other neighbors whose back yard faces theirs. Many of the yards have gardens and our entire neighborhood has mature trees that border the street. It really is quite beautiful particularly in early fall. 

I hesitated knowing full well that his back porch faced the back yard of Chatty Kathy's house and provided very little cover for an undressed woman. I was perfectly willing, in fact, wanted to parade around inside for him wearing just my bra and panties, but the thought of being outside in full view of my nemesis' house overwhelmed me.

I hesitantly took a hold of the elastic waistband of my white cotton skirt and pulled it away from my waist. Right at this moment Edward turned away from me and went outside to sit on his back porch.

I was crushed to realize that he didn't want to watch me undress and at the same time knew that he was fully aware that his seemingly lack of interest would only make me more determined. He knew exactly how to play to my many weaknesses and desires for approval.

I should have hated him for this, but instead it only made me desire him that much more.

O, complications, thy name is elizabeth.

I slid my skirt down my bare legs and stepped out of it leaving me in just my white bikini panties and jacket. I then went into the kitchen taking two tall drink glasses from the cabinet arranging them on a serving tray. Taking the ice tea pitcher out of the frig, I filled the two glasses and prepared myself to walk out onto the back porch.

I got to the door and just couldn't do as Edward had requested.

I put the tray down and scanned the entire area to see whether anyone was outside. Although I didn't see anyone I whispered through the door to the professor, "Can I at least keep my jacket on?"

His reply indicated that he was willing to accommodate my request, at least for the time being.

I again looked through the screen of the back porch and with trembling arms that threatened to spill my tray of glasses used my hip to push the backdoor open and walk outside.

Edward wasted no time at all looking me over and I could tell that he clearly enjoyed my choice of panties. As I stretched myself across his upper body to place his glass of ice tea on the tray opposite him, he brought his hand slowly up the back of my legs until it reached my barely covered bottom.

He took a hold of one of my cheeks giving it a squeeze.

My entire body felt like it was on fire.

Once I had placed both glasses down along with the tray, he motioned for me to undo my jacket telling me to hold it open for him so he could get a proper look at me. I can't explain the hold that he has on me, as my earlier hesitation was gone. Without thinking twice, I unbuttoned the two buttons that held my jacket closed. As I held the jacket open revealing my lace covered sheer bra cups I was delighted by the look of satisfaction in his eyes.

I loved how he looked at me.

He then told me to sit down on his right side and to hold my jacket completely open so he could "see everything that he wanted to see" while we engaged in further conversation.

My extreme nervousness to be so exposed in the middle of my own neighborhood returned in full force. Whenever I would allow my jacket to slide shut Edward would immediately remind me to hold it open.

The conflict of anxiety about being seen particularly by my nosey neighbor, my desire to fulfill Edward's wishes, along with knowing that I was clearly demonstrating my dedication to him for anyone and everyone to see, had my entire body perspiring and on the edge.

Then my worst fears came to fruition as Chatty Kathy appeared in her back yard and upon spying Edward along with some woman wearing what looked like a white bikini-swimming suit, headed right towards us.

My immediate reaction was to quickly close my jacket and to head for the back door, but Edward grabbed my hand and firmly told me to sit back down.

I did as I was told.

Once I was again seated he again motioned for me to open my jacket. Kathy was only about 20 feet away as I unwrapped myself revealing two distinct and very erect nipples poking out from under the sheer lace of my bra.

My God, my forced exposure was exciting me; just like it had every time before this. Somehow he knew that my physical response would be the same even if Kathy were the audience.

In fact, it was even more thrilling for me to be so exposed in front of the neighborhood gossip. I was literally vibrating from head to toe.

I could feel moisture building between my legs, as Kathy was now close enough to recognize me.

I stared at her right in the eyes as if sitting half naked on the back porch with the professor was a natural occurrence.

She stumbled on her first words but managed to say hi to both of us while trying not to stare at my lack of clothing.

Edward in his educated manner explained to her that it had been such a beautiful afternoon that he had asked me to walk down and join him for a glass of ice tea. Nothing was said about my lack of clothing.

He then asked Kathy to join us and told me to fill another glass.

Kathy is actually quite a good-looking woman with dark brown hair that just reaches her shoulders matching her deep brown eyes. She parts it on the side with a sweeping bang covering her forehead. Her face is angular with a distinct jaw line almost like a model's. She is tall, standing about 5'7" with a very athletic build. I heard that she was a swimmer in college and can easily believe it.

What makes her a bit difficult to tolerate is her prim and proper nature that begins with her choice of attire. You would swear that she had stepped out of a Brook's Brothers catalog. 

By the way I do love Brook's Brothers sense of style and tradition. It has a very sexy edge to it when coupled with barely there lingerie.

Today she was wearing a crisp light blue short sleeve blouse buttoned almost to her neck, neatly tucked into a pair of blue and white striped seersucker shorts. Her shorts were indicative of her as they certainly were not too short nor were they too long, but reached just down to the bottom of her thighs.

In a way it was a shame as she had incredibly well proportioned legs and would have looked fabulous in short shorts. 

To complete her outfit, she was wearing a royal blue pair of espadrilles.

She is always very judgmental and I could only imagine what she was thinking as she sat down to join Edward and me.

As she sat down in the third chair provided her I walked past her still holding my jacket open and as their was little space between her and the railing I faced my panty covered crotch directly into her face as I excused myself and shimmied by her.

I swear that I could feel the heat of her stare directly on my lower lips, but easily dismissed it as her distaste for me.

Once inside I immediately removed my jacket thinking, "who cares anymore?" My other self was returning in full force.

I then filled another glass of ice tea and brought it out to Kathy along with the pitcher for refills.

The conversation sort of meandered all around while Kathy continued to stare at me. It was easy to tell that she had no idea what to make of my brazen deference to her presence.

She obviously enjoyed Edward as he represented her ideal of an intelligent and well-educated man, but I am sure that she couldn't find any possible reason for me to be sitting there in just my bra and panties that would fit in her perception of the professor.

After about 30 minutes of mundane chit chat, I was struck with a thought that was so outlandish, I couldn't ignore it.

With Kathy working on her second glass of ice tea, I stood up facing the professor and asked, "Would you spank me?" After all wasn't that the real reason that I had almost run down the sidewalk to Edward's house today.

Even Edward's reaction was a sight to behold as he and Kathy were startled upon hearing my request.

I stretched my body across his lap with my legs dangling in front of Kathy's knees. She was too mesmerized to move now having a front row seat to Edward's and my little secret.

Edward's penis was fully erect and pushing against the side of my hip.

I knew that from sitting for as long as I had wearing just my panties, my bare cheeks would be hardly covered at all giving both him as well as Kathy a very provocative view of my backside.

Thankfully Edward didn't hesitate, as the thought of just lying there with my bottom sticking up in the air would have been quite embarrassing.

"Smack" was the resounding report echoing off the enclosed porch walls as his hand met the exposed flesh of my buttocks.

I writhed in delectable pain emitting a loud, "Uh" allowing the stinging pain to flow through me. Another resounding smack shook my bottom and one of my legs found its way onto Kathy's lap.

She took a hold of it and I could feel her arms shaking with anticipation and excitement as the professor applied another firm smack to my bottom.

Kathy then took a hold of my other leg bringing it up onto her lap and held them in place as Edward's hand continued to rain down on my reddening cheeks.

Kathy was enjoying this, which only added to my own excitement.

After 12 or more smacks, Edward asked Kathy whether she would like to try. I heard her voice shake as if on the verge of orgasm as she gushed out, "Yes."

Although her slaps never matched Edward's the entire idea that Chatty Kathy was punishing me took me over the edge and within her first 6 slaps I was orgasming on the professor's as well as her lap.

It was the ultimate release to my pent up shame and suppressed guilt that had accumulated over the past few weeks.

Sweet oblivion took over my consciousness and I succumbed to a feeling of pure bliss accepting myself as I was and as I would continue to be.

Kathy emitted little moans of delight as she watched me slowly return to the present following my series of orgasms.

As I climbed off of their laps my still erect nipples had freed themselves from the demicups of my bra. That along with my soaked crotch was a clear indication to anyone regarding my predilection for being spanked. Until this day I had no idea how much more intense all of the sensations would be with someone else watching and then participating.

I turned to look at Kathy and easily could tell by the red flush in her cheeks along with her heavy breathing that she had undoubtedly orgasmed right along with me.

Once she collected herself and rose to leave, she turned to us asking in a very shy and meek voice, "Could we do this again sometime?"

I didn't want to sound too enthusiastic, but couldn't stop myself as I said, "Absolutely."

Edward and I spend the rest of our time together discussing what had just happened with our nosey neighbor. I could tell that he had suspected Kathy had some hidden desires simply from how she would react to me every time she saw me arriving home in some manner of undress.

I on the other hand had no idea, but was quite delighted to have her participate in my punishments and possibly join our select group.

Then as the sun was setting and the neighborhood was growing quiet for the evening I knelt down in front of Edward unzipping his pants and freeing the erection that had been poking me in the side during my spanking finding it still at full mast.

I reveled in the knowledge that I was the cause of his physical prowess and couldn't wait to see him squirt.

Now that I was lower than the porch railing I became much more daring slipping out of my bra and placing it on my vacant chair. I took Edward's penis by the shaft and began to rub the little indenture located just to the bottom of his well-formed mushroom head across my very erect nipple.

From time to time I would slip him into my mouth to make his hardened flesh all slick and slippery before renewing the teasing with my nipple. It wasn't long before little drops of goo were forming opaque strings between my little nubs and the head of his penis.

Edward had shifted downward in his chair bringing his hips forward and his crotch up languishing in my sexual play. I watched as his head lay back on the top of the chair and with his eyes closed he let out the most intoxicating moans of raw pleasure.

Somehow I knew when he was about to spew his load of crème and would stop what I was doing and apply a death like grip to the very bottom of his shaft to alleviate the sensations. Once his breathing returned to a pre-orgasmic rhythm, I would start all over again.




The Panty Perils of Me 21



Due to our preoccupation neither one of us realized that Kathy had returned standing only 10 feet away watching my pornographic display of devotion to Edward.

I am not sure what exactly caught my eye delivering me from my intense concentration of desire. It might have been the fact that Kathy had moved considerably closer while her own special pre-orgasmic odor emanated from her crotch.

Just as I turned to look to see who had joined our private party, Edward's entire body spasmed and a glorious rope of white liquid spewed through the air. The act of turning my head caused me to point my sexual weapon in the direction that I was looking and I watched the first spray of Edward's jism splash across Kathy's light blue t-shirt and seersucker shorts.

Her reaction was one of pure shock and it occurred to me that this might be the first time she had ever witnessed a man ejaculating without the benefit her womb to catch it.

Her mouth was wide open as Edward's second spurt, equally strong and fluid filled, caught her on the chin and neck leaving a gob of white semen clinging to the bottom of her chin.

By this time I am convinced that Kathy knew that she was in the line of fire, but she never moved and continued to receive Edward's liquid presents across her lower legs and espadrille style shoes.

Obviously Edward had been storing up for quite some time. I assume that our little adventure in the snow almost 2 months ago was his last time. Or he was particularly turned on by the lewd but very sexy spectacle he was creating.

Kathy remained in her state of suspension as I rose from my kneeling position. Without even thinking I led her away from the porch to the center of the backyard, picked up the professor's hose, the garden one, and rinsed the remnants of Edward's excitement off of Kathy's clothes.

The entire time I was standing in the middle of my neighborhood wearing nothing but my white pair of bikini panties and a pair of tan heels. Dusk was upon us so neither one of us was all that exposed.

The glow of the houses interior lights made Edward's backyard seem translucent giving my white panties a golden glow. The sense of being almost naked where any of my neighbors could see me now only added to my arousal.

As Kathy's t-shirt absorbed the water making it almost transparent, her equally erect nipples and well defined areoles shown right through along with a very sheer and low cut light blue bra. My prim and proper neighbor seemed to have an exquisite taste for lingerie and by the state of her nipples was quite obviously turned on by the scene that had unfolded before her.

I purposely kept the water away from her neck and chin turning the hose off and dropping it to the ground. As if in a dreamlike state, I walked directly to her and began to suck the professor's liquid remnants off of Kathy's chin and neck while at the same time using my fingers to find her hard oversized nubs now readily apparent through her wet t-shirt. With a mouthful of Edward's goo dripping from my lips I French kissed Kathy depositing most of the creamy goo into her mouth.

She didn't hesitate to swallow and then suck my tongue for the last remnants of the lingering taste of Edward's spunk.

At the same time she met my embrace with one of her own and within seconds was exploring most of my exposed erogenous zones with her own educated fingers.

There was no doubt that this woman spent time masturbating as she found my sensitive areas without hesitation and began to vibrate her fingers across my protruding kernel.

Edward remained on the porch basking in the glow of his recent orgasm watching the two middle-aged nymphets play unashamedly in his backyard. One of my hands slipped down to Katy's waist quickly undoing the button and zipper of her shorts. I wanted her to be as undressed and vulnerable as I was forfeiting her carefully crafted façade for prim and proper. It was a bit difficult to extract her shorts considering how soaked they were, but Kathy assisted with one of her hands and before long she was standing in just a pair of very sheer light blue string bikini panties. Once I had her shorts off it was a simple matter to extricate her perfectly round breasts from her t-shirt and bra leaving her in an equally accessible state of undress.

I reached between Kathy's legs and easily found her female kernel pushing against the thin nylon fabric of her very sexy panties.

We took turns sucking on each other's nipples while rolling each one's kernels until orgasms overtook our efforts. We spasmed and convulsed, hugging each other with her larger breasts and nipples pressed against my much tinier ones. 

It felt incredible.

When we were both done Kathy grabbed the hose and sprayed me from head to toe emitting such a joyful and playful laugh that it was intoxicating. However her joyful cries also brought out some of the neighbors nearest to the professor's house so we both scrambled to the safety of his back porch.

With both of us dripping wet we sat down along side of each other and held hands.

I knew right then that I had just found my best friend.



The Panty Perils of Me 22





Now that Kathy and I are bosom buddies in all senses of the word. I never thought that I had any bi tendencies until she slapped my bottom on the professor's back porch. It literally lit a fire inside of me that I could only quench by touching her all over. It seems that like everything else with this bizarre tale of panty perils that I have been on, it is a bit complicated.

Kathy's prim and proper attitude resulting in her disgust concerning my recent activities subconsciously made me attracted to her. Somehow I could sense her true nature through her carefully constructed façade.

Does this all sound somewhat familiar?

When she came back to join us the other evening resulting in her baptism of spunk, my suppressed desire for her spilled out. (I thought that I would stay with the liquid references considering all that happened the other evening. J)

I literally had to have her and thankfully she reciprocated.

Now we can't be separated as we do everything together although she remains the spanker and I, the spankee.

God, I love how she slaps my panty clad bottom with her long slender fingers. One little slap and I am absolutely oozing. However, I digress.

Since we share a similar penchant for the professor, we decided to repair Edward's reputation that was so badly damaged by Dr. Spoocher, the head of the Department for Exposing and Understanding Fetishes. (Is the acronym for this, DEUF?)

So we devised a little plan to unseat Dr. Spoocher from his lofty position at the University.

My role is to call Dr. Spoocher for another appointment, and as always, upon my arrival obey his directions. If things go as they usually have, I will find myself undressed while Dr. Spoocher prepares himself to ejaculate on some exposed part of me. Yes, that means that he will unzip his pants, pull his erection out, and began to stroke himself as he looks at my scantily clad body.

What more could a woman in the midst of a mid-life crisis ask for?

At the correct moment Kathy is to rush into his office with her camera phone recording the incident for our use in whatever manner we would like or Edward would like.

It seems almost foolproof.

We picked a day that would work best for both of us and I made the call to Dr. Spoocher. His assistant answered and I explained that I wanted to come in for another session with Dr. Spoocher. 

I have no idea whether his assistant has any knowledge of the sort of sessions that her boss conducts, however she efficiently scheduled the day and time that Kathy and I had settled on as best.

The day arrived and Kathy came over to my house to help me pick out a wardrobe that would entice the good doctor to perform for the camera. I wanted to wear a simple blouse and short skirt, however Kathy insisted that I put on a dark navy sheath dress that hugged my hips and buttocks. It also would create some very distinct panty lines.

In this area we also disagreed as I felt that red or black would send him off sooner, so to speak. However Kathy insisted that a pastel color would give a subtle message of innocence, which would appeal more to the Dr.'s need to be in control.

This woman really has the perfect mind for this sort of thing. Who would have guessed?

I pulled out a bra and bikini panty set from my lingerie drawer in a very pale blue. Kathy immediately nodded her head in approval of my selection. The bra is basically unconstructed with soft lace cups that reveal my nipples through the lace. The bikini panties are quite tiny with two lace bows on either hip. They also only cover about ¾'s of my cheeks creating a very distinct and sexy panty line under my sheath dress.

Kathy and I both had to stay focused on our ultimate goal as she continued to explore my body parts throughout the clothing process, which certainly got me in the mood to visit Dr. Spoocher. 

Don't get me wrong! I was still very nervous, however when a certain part of the female anatomy is dripping with sexual excitement, any anxiety regarding finding one's self in an uncomfortable sexual situation is lessened significantly.

Once I was fully dressed, Kathy had me walk back and forth for her as she scrutinized my attire. She also had me sit down and stand up making sure that Dr. Spoocher would not be disappointed in how much of me was revealed through the simple act of walking into his office and sitting down.

She showed me how to sit with my knees just slightly apart making sure that the aperture created was facing directly towards the Doctor. It made me blush to realize that this time I was the one meant to be in control, as I have obviously prefer the reverse.

She did remark that my dress could be a few inches shorter, but under the circumstances it would do very nicely.

Funny how a woman who just a few days ago wore outfits that were so conservative and proper could offer such good advice on how to seduce a man. 

As a final inspiration, Kathy asked me whether I owned any pearls. I told her that I did have a necklace and bracelet made of pearls.

She told me to put them on and show her. I did.

It really was the perfect compliment to my dark navy blue sheath dress and perfectly presented me as a woman of class and breeding providing the good Doctor with another potential fantasy.

Also, from a purely sexual standpoint, a string of white pearls can represent the male ejaculate.

This woman thinks of everything.

Once I had performed every movement and gesture to her satisfaction we had to decide on where to place our recorder. We had borrowed a small recording device form Edward. It was quite obvious that I could not hide it on my person as most of me would be uncovered, and what wasn't uncovered would still be on display.

We decided to put in a side pocket of my bag and hoped that it would be able to pick up the Doctor's voice through the fabric. 

With all of the prepping now done, I climbed into my car and headed towards the University and my appointment with Dr. Spoocher. The plan was to have Kathy follow in her own car in order for us to not be seen together.

It isn't really much of a drive to the University, but it still was long enough for me to consider all of the things that could go wrong with our plan. I was nervous, excited, and anxious wanting to just get the appointment over with along with securing our evidence of professional wrong doing.

I parked the car, walked the couple of blocks to the psychology building enjoying all of the stares that I was receiving from the university students virtually half my age. I had to admit that Kathy was right on the mark with her decisions regarding my attire.

Once at the building I climbed the stairs to the doctor's floor, walked down the hall, and entered the doorway to his office suite. As usual his assistant was absent and the door to his office was closed.

Wow, this was when my nerves really hit me hard. My stomach lurched in anticipation but I retained enough sense to make sure that the outer office door remained unlocked for Kathy to get it.

Taking a very deep breath I gathered my nerves and knocked on his door.

"Please come in, Ms. Harley," was the response I heard through the door.

I turned the knob and walked in to find Dr. Spoocher sitting comfortably behind his immense desk motioning for me to take a seat opposite him.

I remembered everything that Kathy had coached me on. So before I sat down I turned my back to the Doctor giving him a very good view of how the silk fabric of my dress hugged my hips and bottom providing a very visible panty line. I heard the Dr. exhale in a long sigh of complete satisfaction. I couldn't help but smile to myself making sure that it was erased from my face by the time I turned back to face him.

I used the opportunity to place my bag against the leg of his desk pulling the recorder out of the pocket just enough to uncover the microphone. By making sure that the pocket faced the desk, I felt that the recorder should remain hidden.

What will be difficult is making sure to grab my bag as I fully expected to have to make a very quick exit once Kathy appeared to take our photo.

Sitting down with my knees about 4 inches apart I made sure that they pointed directly at the Doctor's face. 

As he told me how surprised he was to hear from me and that he had expected to not see me again, I watched his eyes continuously glance down to my legs exploring as far up my dress as they could.

I knew that everything that Kathy had coached me on was working.

It was time for the piece de resistance. 

As Dr. Spoocher continued his little soliloquy, I purposely raised one of my knees just slightly and apart from the other one knowing that he would see my pale blue nylon covered crotch.

I felt a slight tremor across my lower lips knowing that I was trying to seduce him into misbehaving with me as his mark.

It was all that he needed as he stared up my dress saying, "Well, shall we get started?"

"That is why I am here, " I replied.

With that Dr. Spoocher rose from his chair asking me to stand up. The male appendage pushing forward from his trousers was quite obvious as he approached me.

"Turn around for me, Ms. Harley," he said and I obeyed.

He stroked my tightly encased bottom eliciting a "very nice" comment from his lips. Then his hands extended up to my neck where they took a hold of my zipper pulling it completely down my back. The very thin and delicate strap of my light blue bra was no longer hidden. Reaching up to my shoulders, Dr. Spoocher slipped my dress off of me allowing it to slide down my upper torso where the fabric gathered on my hips.

My dress was not about to slip unaided down my hips. It just was too damn tight.

My reaction was to cover my reacting nipples as they poked provocatively against the lace fabric of my bra. With both of my hands occupied, the doctor stooped down and yanked on the hem of my silk dress. As I felt the fabric give and heard a tearing sound, my dress soon gathered in a pile around my feet.

"Damn, that was a good dress!" I thought to myself as the air-conditioned air of his office reminded me that I was now nearly naked.

Dr. Spoocher's eyes widened with a mixture of lust and delight at my sudden exposure.

He stepped back from me to get a more complete view of his middle-aged patient now wearing nothing more than a tiny sky blue bra and matching panties.

I was frozen in place watching him reach down towards the zipper of his pants, extracting the erection that had been so obvious through the fabric. The mushroom shaped head of his throbbing appendage pointed directly at me while a small droplet of opaque liquid oozed out of its tiny hole.

I can't explain the conflict of feelings that flowed through me, as I was a complacent observer to the physical effect that my unveiled presence had on this man. It was quite flattering and at the same time a bit obscene.

As I stood glued to my spot in front of him, he ordered me to kneel down. I bent my knees and lowered myself to the carpeted floor. Dr. Spoocher approached me pushing his engorged member directly against my lips.

"Oh, God!" I thought to myself, "He is going to make me suck on him."

Instead, I heard him say, "Lick the head, Ms. Harley."

I didn't want to, but this was for Edward, or at least that is what I wanted to believe.

I slowly extended my tongue towards his erection and began to lick the clear liquid still oozing out of his tiny orifice.

"That's it, Ms. Harley. Maybe I should give you another pearl necklace to match your own," and he laughed with a maniacal sound.

"Where the hell is Kathy?" I kept thinking to myself as Dr. Spoocher continued to rub himself on my lips and tongue.

I guess his threat of a pearl necklace was simply that, as he now told me to stand up and go over to his desk. "Thank God" I thought and quickly got up off of my knees.

I was told to sit on his desk and to spread my legs apart. 

I was trembling uncontrollably as I did what I was told.

His face was exactly opposite my bra cups and hard little nubs.

With one hand directing his penis towards my crotch he took his other hand immediately finding one of my tender knots and pinched it hard.

I let out a yelp of surprise and pain.

"You smug little bitches think that I don't know what you really want," Dr. Spoocher growled at me. 

He pushed me back so I was lying on top of his massive desk with my legs wide apart with his body occupying the space between them. 

He placed both hands in the crook of my knees pulling my legs up from the floor and pushing my knees back towards my head. I was in the perfect position for his one eyed battering ram to push open the gates to my castle.

He then began to prod me with his erection right against the crotch of my nylon panties.

I didn't want to, but couldn't help myself as I felt my lower lips began to swell and to open.

Dr. Spoocher continued to use my wet crotch to stroke himself and within a very little while, I could feel his firm flesh rubbing almost directly on my kernel.

I hated everything about it. It was humiliating, embarrassing, and mortifying. So why did it feel so good?

"Where the hell was Kathy?"

I was beginning to panic, which wasn't helping my situation one bit. Dr. Spoocher's divining rod was seeking moisture, and the source of an abundant supply was just on the other side of a soaked strip of light blue nylon.

As the doctor's breathing started a tempo to match the lewd bump and grind that he was performing on my crotch, I heard the door suddenly open.

I bent my head back to see Kathy aim and shoot with her camera phone almost coinciding perfectly with Dr. Spoocher's personal version of aim and shoot.

As his both of his heads jerked upward, his spunk shot over my left hip across the top of his desk and then onto his carpeted floor.

He grabbed himself in an attempt to cover his erection. The second spurt filled his hand oozing between his closed fingers and dripping onto his pants leg. 

Thank goodness for his temporary distraction as it gave me enough time to utilize my long forgotten and unused gymnastic ability. 

I participated in gymnastics in High School as the late development of my breasts and body made me a perfect candidate for the sport. And I found out early on that by wearing my leotard one size too small attracted the attention that I craved from the young males in my class.

Who needs big breasts when you have a nice round tushy to put on display?

I lifted my legs back over my head rolling backwards across the top of his desk, and landing on that very same tushy on the other side of the desk.

I guess trying a backwards somersault in heels wasn't the best idea, but it put me in the perfect position to grab my bag with the concealed recorder and quickly get back on my feet.

As I headed for the door I glanced at my dress with its back zipper ripped and useless and realized that I was about to run through campus in just my bra and panties.

What is it with my continual lack of clothing and the University?

It probably is some subliminal fantasy that wants to be acted out over and over again.

Without thinking much more about it I ran down the hallway and down the stairs taking them three at a time. Maybe I should enter some kind of high heel competition, as I was surprised at my agility in them.

Once outside, Kathy and I quickly agreed to separate and meet back at her house. So I ran around the building in hope that I could get back to my car before Dr. Spoocher recovered.

Boy, was I wrong. As it turned out, Dr. Spoocher was some kind of a track star in his college days and although he had aged a number of years and put on some weight, he was still very quick.

Besides, I made the mistake that Dr. Spoocher would follow our path out of his building. 

I ran around the corner and positioned myself so I could watch the front door and see which way he would go before I decided on the best direction to my car.

Instead Dr. Spoocher had come out the back of the building and snuck up behind me.

Once I realized he was there, I quickly began to run; however the combination of heels and grass hindered my escape and I felt Dr. Spoocher's hand grab the back strap of my bra.

I lurched forward hearing my back strap rip and left him holding my torn bra as I ran topless across the campus.

Something about having only one article of clothing left for the doctor to peel off of me added urgency to my flight. Having shed my heels I found myself increasing the distance between us.

Have you ever tried to run with one arm covering two very erect nipples? I am sure that it looked ridiculous; however it was all that I had left to cover my bare breasts along with every other part of me that was on display.

I made my way back towards my parked car using the buildings as cover; skirting from one to the other until I was near the parking lot.

I finally found myself along side my car reaching for my keys from my bag, when I noticed a set of headlights coming straight at me. The bright light essentially made the only piece of clothing that I had on perfectly transparent.

For the second time this evening I found myself frozen in place as the car stopped less that ten feet from me.

I felt beaten and dropped my hands to my side letting the intense light illuminate my entire body while my own much tinier headlights remained erect and swollen.

To my surprise and extreme embarrassment, Arnold's father exited the car.

"Well, well, Ms. Harley. Are we out for a little stroll through campus tonight?" he asked with an ominous grin of delight.

You tell me how I should have responded. I simply stood there rift of any plausible explanation for my state of undress.

"By the way, I am quite aware of your relationship with my son, but have decided to keep it to myself at least for the time being," he continued still wearing his very unpleasant smile.

The entire time he stared at me. I mean the kind of stare that is meant to undress a woman; however this particular woman was already undressed.

Then he slowly walked towards me. My entire body cringed, as he got closer.

He told me to turn around. Without even thinking I did as I was told. When my back was to him, he took a hold of my bottom with one hand and squeezed hard. I flinched from his touch as he remarked, "Very nice. It seems that my son has good taste in older women."

Arnold's father (Mr. Lawrence) is a very prominent lawyer in my town and sits on quite a few boards and committees. One of them is the board of regents for this university, which I am sure made him quite angry when he felt that he needed to separate Arnold from my influence.

Remember how a pair of my panties that Arnold had was missing and I was wondering where they might have disappeared? I think that I was getting the answer as his father continued to squeeze and knead my barely covered bottom.

Then the shocker came.

"Ms. Harley, Professor Thrasher, I believe that you already know him, will be inviting you to a university fund raiser to be held in two weeks from this Saturday. I suggest that you accept his invitation."

I simply nodded and Mr. Lawrence let go of my bottom.

"See you soon," and he climbed back in his car and drove off.

I was shaking from head to toe barely able to get my key into the ignition of my car.

On my drive to Kathy's house I played the tape in the recorder not realizing that I had never turned it off.

The replay of my meeting with Mr. Lawrence sent shivers up and down my spine and I had to pull over. 

I quickly erased the part with Arnold's father. Despite my newfound friendship with Kathy I was too embarrassed for her to find out about my seduction Arnold.




The Panty Perils of Me 22



I then continued my drive to Kathy's where we examined our evidence and made plans to end Dr. Spoocher's career. 

However the entire time my mind was distracted by my meeting with Mr. Lawrence.

Why would it be so important for me to attend a fund raiser?



The Panty Perils of Me 23





Well, I did receive the expected call from Dr. Thrasher inviting me to the annual fundraiser and gala for the University. I guess that I should have felt honored, as this particular find raiser was very exclusive inviting only the very upper echelon of our city's society.

It raised a great deal of money for the University while at the same time having a whispered reputation for decadence and impropriety. 

I was extremely nervous talking to Dr. Thrasher over the phone as I expected that he was fully aware of my recent undertaking with Dr. Spoocher.

Just as an update, Dr. Spoocher resigned his position with the University shortly after receiving a copy of our digital photo and recording of him and myself. I was quite thankful, as I didn't want to have to testify in front of any sort of committee while they looked at a photo of myself sitting spread-eagled on Dr. Spoocher's desktop while he poked at my crotch with his erection.

Due to Dr. Thrasher's working and professional relationship with Dr. Spoocher, I had every reason to be apprehensive about my accompanying him to the fundraiser. And besides all of that, Arnold's father was somehow involved in this whole sordid affair.

I very reluctantly accepted Dr. Thrasher's invitation spending the next week on pins and needles trying to imagine what this gala event had in store for me. 

As the event drew closer I tried to decide what to wear, but really had no idea. This wasn't something that I was looking forward to, so purposely trying to look sexy seemed the wrong thing to do.

On Friday before the event, FedEx appeared at my door with a package that required my signature. Since I wasn't expecting anything, my curiosity was piqued.

I went into my living room, sat on the couch, and opened the package.

It was some type of clothing wrapped in tissue paper with a note attached. The note was from Mr. Lawrence, Arnold's father. It read, "Be sure to wear this to the Gala on Saturday with my compliments. We are having a 90's theme," and it was signed, Richard Lawrence.

I unwrapped the tissue from around the garment taking it out of the box and holding up in front of me. It was a black jersey knit dress with a large opening that would reach right down to my posterior smile. It had distinct shoulder pads and looked to be significantly longer than anything that I normally wear.

I looked again inside the box and saw a piece of black leather. When I took it out of the box it was a cap much like those worn in the military.

This was definitely a 90's look.

I took everything into my bedroom where I had a full-length mirror on the back of the door. I stripped down to my undies and pulled the stretchy dark gray material over my head. The open back wasn't quite as low as I originally thought as it only went down to the lower part of my back. However, the front fit funny with a neckline that looked almost like a cowl neck.

I was confused as I looked at myself in the mirror. It also had a decorative fold down the back, which normally would be found on the front of the dress.

Besides all of that, the shoulder pads fit funny as if they were put in backwards.

Then the lights went on in my brain and the realization that I was wearing the dress backwards filled me with shock and apprehension.

I slipped it off and slowly turned it around; this time stepping into it and pulling it up my torso. The front opening reached almost to my navel. Without the use of any double sided tape or chain with clasps it gaped open putting both of my tiny breasts and nipples on display, which were now very erect.

I can't understand how the thought of wearing such a revealing gown can fill me with dread and anxiety while at the same time make me feel so aroused.

Every time I pulled the fabric over my breasts, it would temporarily cling to my throbbing little nubs and with just the slightest movement on my part, would slide open uncovering everything.

How was I possibly going to wear this dress in front of our cities' elite members of society?

I needed to figure something out and had less than a day to do it.

I went through my entire closet paying specific attention to the ornamental decorations on my dresses and dress pants. After almost exhausting my wardrobe, I found it. I had a pair of navy blue pinstripe pants with an ornamental chain that draped across the front attaching to the fabric with two clasps on either end of the chain.

It was meant to draw attention to a woman's lower abdomen and crotch, as if I needed any help with that.

I undid the clasps and then attached them to the opening on the front of my dress. I wished that the chain was a bit shorter, but at least my nipples would stay covered. Now only bout a third of my breasts were still uncovered. I found the very deep décolletage of the dress suited my tiny orbs almost perfectly.

I began to feel that I might fit right in with the elite who were accustomed to flashing body parts in the name of fashion.

Searching through my lingerie drawer I found a very teeny black string bikini panty and knew that my outfit was complete.

Now all I had to do was endure the next 20 hours of anxiety and apprehension.

Friday arrived and I got myself ready for the gala. It felt funny to be dressing for a formal event and not putting on a bra. I took a long hot shower and shaved virtually everything that grew hair other than my head. Once dried and out of the shower I slipped on my black nylon string bikini panties and got to the serious part of transforming myself. I plucked my eyebrows and applied a makeup base to cover any red spots or wrinkles. I then went to work on my eyes using a barely there mascara and eyeliner. After just a touch of rouge to my cheeks I was ready.

I pulled on a pair of black thigh high stockings thinking that any form of garter belt might either be revealed by the low dip in the front of my gown or too obvious underneath the body hugging jersey material.

Now thigh highs often require a continual adjustment, as they seem to work their way down my thighs as I walk, but I was hoping to find a discreet way to pull them up in lieu of the garter belt.

I then pulled the gown on adjusting the shoulder pads to form perfectly to my shoulders.

For just a second I considered not putting on the chain clasp looking at how much of myself was revealed in the full-length mirror. My nipples were again set on high beam and I could feel a trickle of liquid forming between my legs.

I wanted to reach between my legs and work some magic while fantasizing about being on display at the gala.

It took all of will power to snap myself back to reality.

Reluctantly but knowing that it was the right thing to do, I attached the clasp to either side of my front slit bringing the fabric close enough together to cover my nipples. God, I was so horny.

Just as I completed my preparations, the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find Dr. Thrasher standing there in a beautifully tailored tuxedo.

It had been months since I had seen him last. Despite my overall randiness, I still harbored a bit of resentment towards him. 

If you recall he had made me a subject of his study on exhibitionism, during the course of which I was told to strip and share how I felt as I removed each item of clothing. I found the experience to be very humiliating and depressing. It made me think that something was wrong with me; that I wasn't normal.

Thankfully Edward and Kathy find me to be perfectly abnormal allowing me to be who I was meant to be.

Despite all of my misgivings about spending an evening with Dr. Thrasher, I was excited to attend such an exclusive event. After all how bad can one evening end up?

Dr. Thrasher stared right at the opening slit in the front of my dress making me feel like I used to when I was in his office. I pushed the feelings away by saying, "Shall we get going?"

I climbed into his car spending most of the drive to the University Club fending off his hand as he was constantly trying to place it on the very top of my leg just inches from my crotch. I am not sure why I blurted this out, but I found myself saying, "I don't think that Mr. Lawrence would appreciate having his guest treated like a slut."

Wow, that really got Dr. Thrasher to behave, although it certainly didn't make him much of an escort.

The remainder of our drive was uneventful and finally we arrived at the University Club.

The University Club is located in a stone building probably built in the 1920's when stone ornamentation was common. It is a beautiful three-story building with large leaded glass windows and an imposing mahogany set of front doors bearing huge brass doorknockers. I only wish that my own set were so prominent. J I found myself smiling as I wonder whether the huge knockers were meant to symbolize anything else particularly as it pertains to the female anatomy.

Once inside all of the walls are sunken oak wood paneling with intricate designs carved inside each panel. The chandeliers are all cut glass and immaculate. The floors are also of an intricate wood pattern. The combination makes one realize that once a upon a time there was a lot of money to be found within the university and tonight's gala event may very well put it on display again.

Everyone in attendance is beautifully dressed in their version of a 90's theme. Shoulder pads are quite abundant squaring off the shoulders of all of the women and some of the men.

Every dress and gown is form fitting putting so many toned and lithe female bodies on display. I guess it is true that the very wealthy are now the thinnest.

The dining area is made up of numerous round tables all with shiny white linen tablecloths and beautiful silverware. There is a long table at one end of the room with a buffet of culinary delights. It is definitely not the normal all-you-can-eat style of buffet.

Fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, fresh shrimp, etc. are all piled in the form of a pyramid circling a huge ice carving of a topless women siren. 

Everything looks delicious, so I help myself and take a seat at one of the tables.

It seems that my little warning to Dr. Thrasher has put him off enough to leave me on my own, which is perfect for me.

The whole idea of this gala is to bid on all of the various donations that are found on tables placed throughout the first floor of the club. After eating I spend most of my time meandering through the various rooms and looking at all of the items up for bid, but mostly the people.

It is amazing what a difference in appearance having money makes. Both the men and the women have beautiful clothes, perfect haircuts, and most of the women have fabulous figures.

I feel a little out of my element although I am receiving more than my share of stares that seem to focus right upon my upper torso. I guess they are all admiring my ornamental clasp. Yeh, right!

As I am making my rounds, Mr. Lawrence approaches me taking my hand and leading me to a quiet corner of the room.

"You look absolutely fabulous in my dress, Ms. Harley, although I wasn't expecting the front to be closed by a clasp," he begins. I simply smile and thank him for the compliment.

"I am hoping that you will do me as well as the University a favor," Mr. Lawrence continues.

"A number of the women have volunteered to be auctioned as personal assistants for the day chosen by the winning bidder. Most often it involves washing a car or minor housework, although most of the time it is an evening out with the winning bidder.

I am hoping that you would volunteer to be one of the personal assistants," he concluded.

Something told me that there was much more to this story than I could possibly know, but as I usually do, I ignored my little voice and agreed.

Once I signed what Mr. Lawrence explained to be a simple waiver, he left me alone. 

I spent the rest of the evening with a woman that I knew through Reggie. It seems that I wasn't the only person that used him as a personal trainer. She also was one of the diners that Reggie showed me off to a few weeks ago.

She thought that it was a pretty good joke and added that she wished that she were in as good a shape as I was, although I must confess that she looked fantastic. I guess another thing about having money is that you are never quite satisfied.

I asked her about the auction for personal assistants and she told me that she had never volunteered, but heard that often there is some extra curricular activity involved between the assistants and the winning bidders. "In other words, pretty much anything goes," she added.

Now why didn't that surprise me and why the hell can't I learn to listen to my little voice?

At the end of evening the silent auction winners were all announced. It really was fun to see how happy the winners were and how dejected the losers were. It seems that most of us never outgrow our competitive urges. I wonder why my urges are more of a primal nature?

Then it was announced that the bidding for personal assistants was going to take place and would everyone interested please come upstairs to the main room at the top of the stairs.

Some of the older couples took the opportunity to go home, but most everyone else stayed as I followed the crowd up the stairs to the second floor.

We entered a large room with high ceilings and an incredibly large cut glass chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. 

Directly underneath the chandelier was a series of connected tables with a set of chairs pushed together with their backs placed against the side of one of them.

The rest of the room was outfitted with row upon row of chairs all facing the tables placed in the center of the room.

As it turned out, this was the stage and the chairs were the steps for all of the women that had volunteered to be auctioned off as assistants for the day.

As soon as everyone was settled, a gentleman in a white tuxedo jacket and black pants asked all of the volunteers to approach the center of the room. Once we all gathered by him, we were put in a row alphabetically using our last names.

I was the 4th in line.

As part of the agreement requiring our signature, we also had to give a brief description of ourselves. It was somewhat of a brief resume.

The first volunteer was introduced and escorted up the chair steps and onto the makeshift stage.

As the gentlemen in the white tux read her resume, she slowly turned letting everyone get a view of her fore and aft. As many in the audience hooted and hollered, partly because they knew her and partly because she wore a very form fitting ivory gown, I had the impression that our resumes meant very little.

To my amazement the bidding started at $1,000. This definitely was the main money raiser for the University.

She topped out at $18,000 leaving me to believe that by the time it was my turn, the money would be all spent. Boy, was I wrong.

As each volunteer before me took their turn, I became more and more nervous. I wasn't a part of this crowd and my fragile ego was about to be put to the test.

Just as my name was announced, Mr. Lawrence came up to me and adeptly removed the chain and clasps holding the front of my dress together. I was in shock remembering what happened each time I simply moved without the chain in place.

I felt a swat on my bottom and heard him say, "Good luck."

And then I was on the stage standing maybe four feet under the immense chandelier while the front folds of fabric clung to my throbbing nipples.

I stood there like a deer in headlights and the bidding started.

At around $4,000 it became very quiet as the auctioneer started his "Going once, going twice" mantra.

Someone yelled, "Turn around, " making me realize that I hadn't moved since I had climbed the makeshift stairs to the makeshift stage.

I started a spin and immediately my right breast decided to introduce itself to everyone.

I heard, "$6,000" shouted out immediately followed by $7,000.

I reached up to the folds of my dress quickly covering my wandering flesh and heard Mr. Lawrence's voice shout out, $10,000.

My ego was certainly assuaged, but it didn't calm my nerves nor did it the feeling of being a piece of meat put on display for the upper class.

The bidding continued but soon was confined to two men, Mr. Lawrence and a large burly man that looked like he would be much more comfortable in jeans than a tuxedo.

I continued to turn with my hand holding the folds of my dress together, when the auctioneer hissed at me to put my hands down by my side and spin.

I did as I was told and both tiny breasts appeared from behind their curtains with my deep red and throbbing nipples glistening in the glow of the overhead chandelier.

As my tiny headlights surveyed the room the bidding continued until the burly man said $28,000. This was when Mr. Lawrence became very quiet. I glanced towards him and noticed a very angry and sullen look on his face as the auctioneer said, "Going one, going twice, sold."

I knew at this point that it was very unlikely I was going to see my chain and clasps again.

I draped the open fabric of my dress on my hard little nubs hoping that it might stay in place for at least a few minutes and climbed down from the stage.

Immediately the winning bidder, a Mr. Abromski, met me. I found out he owned a home construction and remodeling business. He actually was very nice and assured me that my day of personal assisting would be spent on a job site providing some innocent fun for his workers.

I felt somewhat relieved considering all of the situations that I have been in since the start of last spring. However it was difficult for me to ignore the nagging feeling I had regarding Mr. Abromski. He was extremely affable and a gentleman. Still there was a look in his eyes that unnerved me.

Oh well, at least I raised $28,000 for the University.

I wasn't the big winner of the evening, but certainly did well nonetheless.

I then turned my attention to Dr. Thrasher who was nowhere to be found. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get home until Mr. Lawrence walked up to me. "I am your ride home tonight, Ms. Harley. I hope you don't mind the change of escorts?"

"Not at all," I replied and we left the University Club and walked to his car.

Mr. Lawrence had parked in the University parking ramp, so we had a little time to talk as we walked.

He told me about his relationship with the University as well as the members of the University Club. He basically grew into the position as his career in a prestigious law firm advanced his standing in the community.

He explained that he really wasn't fully accepted into their society, but had done quite a bit of legal work for many of them so they tolerated him. 

I could tell that he was a bit bitter about it.

When we arrived at his car, things got a little testy. Our conversation had brought a very different side of Mr. Lawrence. He started to get very forward with me like I was his little plaything and that I owed him for the invitation tonight.

He continuously pulled my dress open taking a hold of my hard nipples pinching and pulling them. 

While I tried to fend him off, he was successful in pulling the top of my open gown down to my waist. Then he turned me around and pushed me so my little nubs were flat against the cold surface of his car hood. The cold metal only made my nipples more sensitive as they throbbed in time to my heartbeat, which was on high alert due to Mr. Lawrence's aggression.

He yanked my gown up from behind tearing at my thigh highs until they were mere threads of thin nylon.

Once my gown was completely gathered at my upper thighs, he took a hold of the material and literally yanked it completely down my waist and legs.




The Panty Perils of Me 23



I was bent over his car wearing nothing but my black string bikini panties and heels.

With his hand pressed firmly against my lower back, I heard him start to undo his pants.



Thankfully just when I was about to be impaled by Mr. Lawrence another couple from the gala appeared from the stairwell of the parking ramp and I was able to use their distraction to pry myself loose. I ran towards the stairwell that they had just exited.

Wisely Mr. Lawrence didn't follow, although I certainly wonder what the couple thought as I sped past them in just a pair of panties and heels.

I quickly ran down the stairs to the lowest level, where I waited anxiously listening for footsteps on the landings above me.

When I didn't hear any, I left the parking ramp using the shadows of buildings and trees to make my way home.

Here I was once again left stripped of my dignity sneaking in the shadows while my entire body vibrated with arousal. Halfway home I finally gave in to my lascivious urges pushing my right hand down inside the waistband of my panties with my fingers easily entering the slick crevice of my desires. I moaned out loud as I orgasmed over and over again wondering when all of this would finally end, knowing deep down that I really didn't want it to.

When I finally arrived home, I slunk into the shower and let the hot warm rinse the touch of Mr. Lawrence off of my body wondering the entire time, what was in store for me with Mr. Abromski and his construction crew.

Once I fell asleep I had constant dreams of working inside of an unfinished house while a band of workman spewed their man juice up and down my unclothed body.

I woke up in a hot sweat finding my right hand tightly grasping my crotch.

"Once more into the breach, rode Ms. Harley."



The Panty Perils of Me 24





I want to tell you about my day of working construction for Mr. Abromski, but need to update some other things first.

I decided to sign up for some night classes at the University. I seem to be spending most of my free time there anyway, although too often it has been in just a bra and panties and lately without the bra. Anyway, I want to study human sexuality and fetishes, which just happen to be the realm of both Dr. Thrasher and the just disposed of head of the department, Dr. Spoocher. I heard that they had brought in a female to head the department and so I can now possibly learn something about my quirks and myself without having to deal with either of the previous professors in the department. Who knows maybe I will find my future profession in this area. No, I don't mean as a madam or anything similar. I mean as an academian; a teacher.

Anyway the reason I mention all of this is when I was enrolling on line I accidentally signed up for a chemistry class taught by a Professor Eric. When he noticed my age as I was about twice the age of his average student, he contacted me and offered his assistance in helping me get adjusted to a college level science class. I wrote him back and told him that it was all a mistake. Well one thing led to another, and I met him for coffee. I have to say that I really enjoyed his company and am starting to see him somewhat on a regular basis; as regular as a married woman with a full time job can see another man.

What this has instigated, however, is Edward (my other professor) being somewhat unsatisfied with me. As he has stated to me, "You are not nearly as compliant nor as submissive as you once were." I have to admit, that he is correct. I seem to be finding my balance, if that is the right word, and starting to be more independent of him. I still love to be spanked, but spanking has become more of a sexual experience than a cleansing one for me. I want to start finding my own way through the morass of sexual adventures while doing what pleases me the most. I do still yearn to be subservient, but now only in a way that excites me; not just the other person.

I don't where this is all going, as I say over and over again, but my time with Edward may be coming to a close, and I might find a perfect playmate in Professor Eric. He has subtly inferred things in our conversations that make me wonder about his own little quirks and secret desires. I guess that time will tell.

Sorry for the long tangent as I suspect that you want to hear about my day as an assistant to Mr. Abromski.

Mr. Abromski told me to dress ready for work; work as in construction work. So I put on an old red t-shirt with the words 'New York" printed on the front, a pair of loose fitting jeans that I have been meaning to get rid of for quite some time now, and I borrowed a pair of old work boots from a neighbor. His son had worn them for a summer job he had had painting houses.

I slipped a pair of work gloves in the back waistband of my jeans, grabbed my bag, and was ready to serve my sentence. Mr. Abromski picked me up at my house and drove me to the work site. He introduced me to everyone and told them to essentially put me to work. I wasn't exactly comfortable with the little smirks that each man had on their face, but attributed it to the fact that I was a woman who knew very little about construction wearing boots that were obviously too big for me.

They put me to work immediately cleaning up the worksite. They were doing the finishing work on a newly constructed house. The wood floors had just been laid and I was asked to pick up the spare pieces of wood flooring and then to give everything a good sweeping. I thought to myself, " This isn't so bad," and chastised myself for feeling so nervous about Mr. Abromski.

The one issue that was difficult for me to get used to was using a port-a-potty for a bathroom. Despite the fact that it was reasonably clean, thank goodness, it was located in the backyard of the house and was anything but private. Whenever I used it I could hear all of the activity right outside as I sat there with my jeans and panties around my ankles. Maybe someone would find this sexy, but I was a bit unnerved by it. However I kept thinking that if this is the worst thing that I have to deal with today, then I should have no complaints whatsoever.

Everything was going fabulous and I was really enjoying myself, although I was a bit disappointed that I wasn't the center of attention. Granted I was older than most of them, but considering my playground experience with my neighborhood teens, I still raised blood levels in one part of the male anatomy.

They turned out to be a great bunch of men ranging between the ages of 22 and 48. They pretty much fit the stereotypical construction crew, as they were very red-blooded males who enjoyed talking about women and ogling women. They seemed to be a very tight knit group constantly kidding each other about sexual things such as penis size. They also talked about all of the times that they had gone to gentlemen's clubs together and about the sexy dancers that they enjoyed.

As I shared earlier, I was feeling a bit left out as well as jealous that they weren't spending more time ogling me, although I didn't exactly have the perfect outfit to be ogled in. My loose fitting jeans that easily would have fallen to my knees except for my belt didn't exactly garner any second looks. I even was wearing my tiny string bikini leopard print panties, but what difference did it make if no one would see me in them.

Soon enough it was lunchtime and as we all settled around a long sheet of plywood propped up by two sawhorses creating a makeshift table, Mr. Abromski drove up in his oversized pickup. He got out carrying two cases of beer and brought them over to where we were all sitting. He told us that he had just secured the track of land adjacent to this worksite and thus would be able to expand his housing project guaranteeing jobs for everyone for at least another 3 years. A loud cheer went up and the cases of beer were broken open.

I had three with my limit being one and was feeling quite good. The rest of the crew along with Mr. Abromski finished off the remaining cans of beer.

Everyone seemed to handle their liquor quite well except for me. I was light headed and feeling quite daring. Maybe I should include horny in this description, as my body seemed on high alert.

I needed to go to the bathroom, but had to wait for the two men in line before me. The one in the port-a-potty right before me took a bit of time and I swear that I could hear him moaning my name while performing his business. I just didn't realize until it was my turn what that business exactly was. He came out of the port-a-potty with a big smile on his face directing it right at me. I tentatively entered the port-a-potty and could tell by the telltale odor that his business was not Nos. 1 or 2. Then I saw it. On the side wall where the tiny urinal is typically located were stream after stream of spunk dripping down the wall. My co-worker had masturbated while I stood right outside and left me the evidence of his wet dream about me on the wall.

I pulled my jeans and panties down and settled onto the plastic toilet seat watching the tendrils of his desire slowly work their way down the plastic. I should have been disgusted, but it seems that the alcohol that I had consumed just a short while prior had worn away any of the inhibitions that I had brought with me this morning. Just the idea that this not so bad looking man had masturbated as he thought about me made my intimate area twitch with appreciation. As I sat there tinkling into the blue chemical cistern, I found myself examining the white goo on the wall right next to me. I pushed my finger into a large glob and rubbed it between two fingers. It still was warm and slick with just a tinge of stickiness. I began to imagine what it might feel like to have my body coated with it. The feeling of a warm viscous liquid running down my back, over my stomach and between my legs. How it would be to have it splashed on my face and running into my mouth?

As I sat there absently musing the fantasy of it all, it suddenly came to me. I was already a part of the fundraiser for the university that dropped me into this place at this time. Why not see if I could raise some additional funds for the chemistry department and my new friend, Professor Eric. I had always wanted the feeling of presenting a good sized check to some organization and now I had that chance using what was now becoming natural to me.

I liked the idea of being this crew's live pin up. I liked the idea so much that I removed the belt in my jeans that pretty much kept them up and stuffed it into my bag. I then found a tiny hole in my t-shirt about half way up and used it to tear off the bottom half of material. My t-shirt was now a midriff top that barely covered my breasts. The show was about to began.

When I got out of the port-a-potty I walked back into the house asking what I could help with next. Immediately I was the center of attention with my low-slung jeans and bare stomach. Everyone seemed to be staring at my nipples poking against the thin cotton material of my top; no one seemed to notice my one hand that was being used to keep my jeans from dropping to a level extremely low on my hips. I mean extremely low. I was trembling in anticipation of what I planned to do wondering whether I would really go through with it.

I had heard enough stories early in the day about their visits to gentlemen's clubs and now I wanted to be their entertainment, but for a price. The question is, "What am I willing to do to raise money for the chemistry department?" Or was the real question, "What am I willing to do to be noticed?" I was about to find out the answer. 

What a difference from just a few months ago when I was constantly being forced to be someone's entertainment that so often resulted in my arousal and abject humiliation. I had learned to hate myself for feeling so excited when being used by men. This time I wanted to find out how it felt to purposely put on a show.

I was told to climb a ladder to help install crown molding in the living area. I knew that with both hands occupied, my jeans would be at risk of slipping down my waist. What I was willing to find out was whether my hips would hold them up or whether they would just continue their journey down my body until I was basically pantless.

I took the length of crown molding in one hand and the nail gun in the other and started to climb the rungs of the ladder. With each step up I could feel my jeans trying to find their place on my lower torso. Just taking my hand off of the waistband resulted in them settling on my hips revealing my lower abdomen and c-section scar located just above my panty line. By the second rung my jeans were barely kept up by the fabric of my panties. I noticed that the typical sound of laughter and kidding that filled the room was gone. A quick look over my shoulder told me that my work buddies were watching my ascent up the ladder accompanied by the descent of my jeans down my waist. With a very condescending smile I gave a little shake of my hips and down went my jeans. What was so perfect was how my shop apron stayed tied around my hips creating the effect of wearing a too short mini skirt that was completely open in the back. And it was my back that was facing my audience.

I shook one leg loose and then the other leaving my jeans piled on the wood floor just below the ladder.

A loud whoop of approval greeted my impromptu striptease. God, it felt so good to be in just my t-shirt and panties in front of these men.

With a sheepish grin on my face, I turned towards them, still holding the strip of crown molding, and nail gun. I placed the nail gun on the top rung of the ladder and let the length of crown molding slide to the floor. In the best business voice that I could muster, I said, "You all know that I am here with you today because I volunteered my services to raise money for the University." My body was trembling all over and I could feel my lips rapidly swelling between my legs. With a swallow I continued, "I would also like to volunteer my services for an addition donation to the chemistry department. You boys have all talked in front of me about visiting strip clubs. How about if I bring a little strip club to you today?' Well the response was obvious, but it still made me feel faint. I had proposed that for a check made out to the university chemistry department of $100 per person, I would do a strip tease for them.

With their loud acceptance I turned around on the ladder wrapping one of my legs around a leg of the ladder and very suggestively slid down to the floor making sure that my leopard print crotch made full contact with the side of the ladder as I descended. By the time my feet touched the floor, my intimate flower was in full bloom.

I continued to hump the side of the ladder while rubbing my hands all over my body paying particular attention to my very erect little nubs poking straight ahead under my t-shirt. The men voiced their encouragement when I turned around to face them placing both hands on my inner thighs moving them upward and over my leopard print crotch. I don't know if they realized the change in my facial expression as my exploration resulted in a rather significant little find. As my fingers made their way over my crotch I could feel my little kernel fully formed and pushing against the thin nylon fabric. They may think that I was only feigning my desire, but I couldn't help but close my eyes and let out a little moan while my fingers lingered on their unexpected discovery.

Mr. Abromski yelled out, "$500 more to take your top off." Little did he know that it was coming off anyway, but why argue with another $500.

I turned my back to them, spread my legs wide apart, and slowly bent forward until I could look between my legs. Remember my high school days as a gymnast? It still was coming in very useful. I took a hold of my ankles and again very slowly brought my hands up my legs until they again were clutching my crotch. My t-shirt had vacated my breasts sliding up my torso to cover my face. One of the advantages of having small breasts are that my t-shirts don't really fit tight anywhere unless my nipples are erect. While still bent over, I took a hold of it and pulled it free of my arms and head.

I slowly raised myself back up holding my t-shirt over my breasts and turned to face everyone again. Then with a little flourish I threw it into my audience. My work apron was next as I moved my hips in a circular motion while untying the strings. Once they were untied I held the apron strings straight out at the sides so it still covered my panties. Then I would bring the strings in towards me letting the apron droop showing off my leopard print. The entire time I had the biggest smile on my face. I couldn't have been enjoying myself any more than I was right now and couldn't have been more aroused. After a few dips of the apron I swung it around over my head and then let it go to join my t-shirt in my attentive male audience.

Now I was wearing nothing but my work boots and leopard print panties. Not being any sort of expert stripper I was losing my creativity until I spied a large Phillips screwdriver in the tool belt of my nearest co-worker. I sauntered over to him letting him grab my almost bare cheeks with one hand as I rubbed myself on his leg and slowly pulled the screwdriver from his belt. I tried to make it symbolize an emerging erection and wonder if anyone noticed. Once it was in my hands I began to lick the very tip of the handle. Have you ever noticed how so many tools look like phallic symbols? The handle of a large screwdriver is the perfect example as it has a large knob on the end mimicking the head of a man's penis, which is exactly what I hoped they would see it as. After licking the tip all over, I began to insert the end into my mouth and pretended as best I could to perform oral sex on the screwdriver. I must have been doing pretty well as my audience began to make some crude remarks regarding my lips being wrapped around something of theirs.

I was getting more and more aroused watching them watch me. My lower lips were dripping and a wet spot was beginning to form on the leopard print fabric right between my legs. I should have felt embarrassed and stopped right there, but I was beyond the point of reason. I leaned my body against the ladder spreading my legs apart and slowly brought the handle of the screwdriver down the front of my torso rubbing its gooey end across my hard nipples and then down the front of my body until it was at the top of my string bikini panties. Then I rubbed it across the front of my panties slowly working its way closer and closer to my crotch. Everyone's eyes were glued on me and despite their loose fitting jeans I could see that everyone had grown another tool just below their tool belts.

I was lost in the sexual energy of it all. I pushed the knob of the screwdriver against my crotch, pushing my hips forward and started to masturbate myself with it. My hips moved forward and backward as I ground my leopard print crotch into the handle. Back and forth, back and forth my hips went, until I had created my own version of a very wet camel toe. And then my orgasm arrived basically knocking down the door and forcing my body into such a series of violent convulsions that I had to grab at the rungs of the ladder to keep from falling. "Uh, uh, uh, came out of my mouth in a rhythmic staccato as way off in the distance I could hear my audience cheering me on. My thighs put the handle of the screwdriver into a death grip so I could use both hands on the ladder to keep from falling. It looked like I had been impaled on a screwdriver and was in the throes of desperate act to get myself off.

Finally the last spasms left my body and with my hair sticking with sweat to my forehead, I faced each one of them and with a sly little grin said, "I bet you don't see that in a strip club?" But my poor male audience still had unattended needs to be taken care of and I was far from finished.

Not knowing where my new sexual audacity was coming from, I continued, "How would you all like to have me in the middle of your very own circle jerk?" I swear that just a short while ago, I had no idea what a circle jerk was and now I wanted to be in the middle of one. In fact, how did I know what a circle jerk was?

Again their response was obvious, but I continued in my business voice despite the fact that my panties were soaked and I could feel another wet front forming between my legs. It will cost $1,000 to be made out to the chemistry department. Did I really even know Professor Erik that well? More importantly, was I really doing this for him or was it really for me?

Mr. Abromski stepped forward saying, "Make it $5,000 and no one ever talks about it."

I wasn't quite sure exactly what to do, so I lay down in the middle of the wood floor trying to arch my back suggestively with one hand between my legs and the other pinching one of my still very hard nipples. The men formed their circle around me and with a sound of 6 zippers coming undone; I watched 6 dark red cylinders of flesh being pulled out through the opening of their pants and all pointing in my direction. I guess the average size of an erection is about 5 inches as that was what I saw although Mr. Abromski's was much thicker than the others.

It made no difference to me, as I loved the look of all of them, circumcised or uncircumcised. They were all extremely sexy and all for me.




The Panty Perils of Me 24



I continued to writhe and wiggle on the floor letting them think that I was about to orgasm again. They all began to stroke themselves and I wasn't shy about watching. My eyes darted from one penis after another and then up to their faces. It easily was one of the sexiest sights that I have ever seen as I could see the change in their expressions as the urgency in their stroking increased.

Soon everyone's hips were thrusting towards me in tempo to their manual ministrations. I verbally encouraged them telling each one how well they were doing, how big they were, and how I couldn't wait to be splashed with their creamy goo.

It didn't take long at all and the man nearest to my head arched his back, pushing his pelvis forward, sending a long rope of semen across my face and down the front of my body. The warm sticky substance electrified my excitement. It was so obscene and pornographic and so sexy to get splashed by a man's excitement for me. I was the cause and the catalyst.

Then the rains came as one after the other delivered their payload over and across my bare body until I was dripping everywhere. My face, my breasts, my crotch, nothing was untouched by the warm slippery excitement that had just erupted from my audience's erections. I rubbed it all over my nipples and used it's slickness to slide one hand back and forth between my legs.

I was in heaven.

I apologize for the aside here, however; ever since my panty perils began I would find times when my entire body would vibrate as the desire or maybe I should say need to act out. It would overwhelm me. I don't know if this ever occurs to you. Every nerve ending tingles pushing forward my secret side and once it comes out; I have to perform in a way that makes me feel ultra sexy and decadently naughty. I had been in one of those moods all day and now my hidden desires were being fulfilled beyond any of my expectations.

I was slipping on the slick wood floor as I tried to bring my pot to a boil one more time, so I turned myself over spreading my knees wide apart to gain a better grip as well as to not let my audience see me slipping my hand down the front of my leopard print panties. I wanted to get to the crutch of the matter and orgasm one more time. With my head lying on my arm and my bottom sticking in the air, I went to work on myself.

My nylon-clad bottom was quivering and shaking as I applied my manual vibrator in order to thoroughly polish my little pearl. I could tell that all eyes were on my backside as it shook in tempo to my masturbatory efforts. As I was almost there, a splash of hot thick liquid hit my lower back and bottom, which acted as a green light for me to Uh!, Uh!, Uh! once again.

It seemed that one member of my 6 gun salute had held out on me providing me with an additional coating of goo across my back. It did give me that little push that I seemed to crave to reach my own sloppy orgasm. As the new series of convulsions shook my body I found it difficult to maintain my position and eventually my face was completely on the floor being soaked by a puddle of the men's liquid appreciation.

I now was covered everywhere and the newly laid (An interesting choice of words) wood floor was equally creamy.

I rolled over and just lay there for a while as the men voiced their overwhelming appreciation of my performance and me. It was funny to be lying prone on a floor covered with male residue in just a tiny pair of panties and work boots with a smile on my face. It was the most erotic thing that I had ever done and my multiple orgasms were a testament to how much I enjoyed it.

Now it was time to clean up and allow everyone to get back to work.

The basement had a laundry tub with a small hose attached to the faucet. I was able to use it to thoroughly rinse myself off as well as my t-shirt and panties. I used a paint cloth to dry myself as best I could and applied my wet t-shirt to the wood floor to wipe it clean. After all I was the cause of the mess, so I felt responsible to clean it up. It took a few trips up and down the stairs to get everything back to shiny. I then went back downstairs and sprayed myself with the hose until every part of me felt squeaky-clean.

To the continued pleasure of my crewmates, I then exited out the back door climbing onto a stack of 2 by 4's and let the sun dry me off. I was in the middle of a large housing project lying outside in my panties having discarded my work boots before I climbed up on the stack of boards. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

As the day drew to a close I slipped my work boots back on grabbed my t-shirt and jeans and went back inside to thank each one of the men for their generous donations; liquid and financial. Yes, I remained topless and pantless as I hugged each one not caring whether they explored my bare nipples or panty clad bottom with their hands.

I then got as dressed as best I could considering that my t-shirt was only a half one barely covering my still erect nipples and climbed back into Mr. Abromski's truck for my ride home.

Needless to say I was invited to come back anytime.

What was so different for me this time was that afterwards I didn't feel my usual qualms or guilt about what I had done and besides I now had a big check to deliver to the new professor in my life. I had definitely turned a corner in my acceptance of my sexual side.

When I got home I checked my cell phone for messages and had one from Mr. Lawrence. He was very apologetic for having tried to have his way with me after the charity event and wanted to invite me to his Racquet club as a way of atonement. For some reason I wasn't very comfortable about getting back together with him, but when has that ever stopped me?



The Panty Perils of Me 25



It seemed only appropriate to bring you up to speed on Professor Eric as he has taken on a much bigger role in my "perils" saga than I would have ever expected. 

I thought that before I shared with you in detail my very last meeting with him that I would share our email exchanges that brought me to this point.

It should help to explain my current state of sexual exploration..

Dear Elizabeth,

Thanks so much for taking time to reply (and please call me Eric). I see that you are no longer on my class roster so I assume that you were able to correct the registration error easily enough. While I'm disappointed that you won't be in my class, I can certainly understand why you don't need or want to take chemistry again. Also, I would have to agree that psychology of human sexual behavior sounds like a more interesting alternative. 

I'd ask who's teaching that class but I probably wouldn't know the person anyway. I really don't know any of the psychology faculty so you don't have to worry about me paying any "attention" to Dr. Spoocher. Of course, many of us have heard certain rumors about him so your comment about your "relationship" with him changing and how he won't find you "so accommodating" in the future piqued my curiosity. 

I'm very glad that you suggested that we have coffee sometime. Without the student-teacher connection to worry about, I'd be delighted to do so. Just pick your favorite coffee spot and let me know. I look forward to getting to know you better and, who knows, you might enjoy having a grown-up friend on campus who isn't one of your teachers.

Best,

Eric

(BTW.... That fellow Arnold e-mailed me last night asking if I've met you yet and whether you "talked about" him. I'm guessing that he has a thing for you and/or that he's worried about something you might tell me about him. Either way, it's none of my business. It just seems strange because I barely remember him from class and I haven't spoken to him since.)

Dear Eric,

How about we meet this Thursday at the corner of University and Dean at Java Junction around 2:00?

Elizabeth



Dear Elizabeth,

Indeed, I also really enjoyed our conversation over coffee yesterday. In spite of the fact that I spend my days working with (and often in front of) lots of people, my innate shyness still makes me nervous whenever I meet new people. You made it easy for me yesterday with your genuine, down-to-earth personality. I hope the feeling was mutual. It was fun having good conversation with an intelligent, mature, and worldly-wise woman in the campus environment where I'm so used to dealing mainly with young folks and my chemistry colleagues. The time just flew by -- I had no idea it was after 3:30 when we parted until I checked my watch on the walk back to the office.

The moment I saw you enter the coffee shop, with your beautiful legs looking sensational in that short little skirt, I knew that I was wearing the right thing under my Dockers. The whole time we chatted, I knew your skirt was riding higher on your thighs and I kept hoping for a better view. I was hard and throbbing in my panties. In some ways hoping that you would notice the bulge. When you moved and gave me that delightful view, I knew you had caught me looking. Of course, I couldn't help myself but I also assumed that you knew exactly how much of your cute little leopard spot panties I was being allowed to see. The display was thrilling to say the least and I thank you for it.

If you do decide to meet with me again, I'm wondering if I could make a small wardrobe request. Undoubtedly, you know how much I loved seeing your gorgeous legs and tight behind in the short skirt. Please don't change that but I would also love to see your cute little breasts on better display. I love the tiny ones with the ultra-sensitive nipples that stand up so easily and so prominently. Forgive me for being so forward -- anything you choose to wear will be great and I will be pleased to just see you and talk with you regardless.

Have a great weekend!

Eric

Eric,

It seems to be my lucky day as I rarely have the opportunity to check or respond to emails while at work. Today is that exception and low and behold I received your email.

You are a very delightful man and the thought that you were wearing panties during our conversation only adds to my delight, although I already suspected as much.

I would love to see you again, although I don't think that I am quite ready to see you in your office as yet. Temptations of a married woman and all that.

So let's go for lunch at "The Library". I always appreciated the name of this restaurant as any student can truthfully answer that they were at the library when questioned as to their whereabouts by their parents.

I haven't ever been there but I understand that the tables are arranged very much like library tables throughout a large area of high book shelves thus creating intimate spaces for more private conversations.

How else can I learn about the origins of your little panty fetish and more importantly, receive a little show and tell?

Shall we try for next Tuesday around 11:00? 

Hopefully your class schedule permits it as I will be on vacation with my family from the 16th to the 27th.

A wardrobe request is perfectly acceptable now that I know you better. As you are very aware, I have my own little thing about show and tell.

I hope you won't mind if I don't wear a bra. 

I am quite addicted to the look in a man's eyes, particularly a more mature one, whenever I am in a teasing mood.

I should explain that I can be rather brazen when I am not sitting directly in front of you.

Have a great weekend as well, and I will see you Tuesday.

Elizabeth

Dear Elizabeth,

The Library is a favorite of mine and, indeed, I can't wait to be seated next to you between the stacks. How deliciously naughty you are just to think of such a setting for our next meeting.

Eric

Dear Professor,

Your email has prompted me to perform a few necessary duties prior to our lunch tomorrow.

Number 1: I called The Library restaurant to explain that our luncheon tomorrow is to be treated very exclusive as we have a number of very personal matters to attend to. They in turn have reserved us a table in their most private nook whose access requires a bit of winding around through their 8-foot tall bookshelves.

I also explained that once our dessert was served we were to be left alone by the wait staff for the next 30 minutes.

I must say The Library hostess was very understanding and assured me that our lunch would be as private as I requested. 

A little part of me wonders whether the hostess might try to peek in on us as she seemed quite intrigued by my stipulations.

Since she is also in her 40's I doubt that you would know her at the University.

Number 2: Kathy and I are going to do a little panty shopping of our own today. Although neither of us is much on going commando even for a brief period of time, it occurred to me that we might provide your growth spurt, or is that growth and spurt, some encouragement.

I am thinking that we need to find some delectably virginal-white nylon panties with a combination of flower appliqués and sheer panels to wear under our matching navy blue pin stripe mini skirts. I thought that wearing business attire would potentially confuse the hostess as to the true intent of our lunch.

I know just the lingerie shop for our equally matching purchase as I was there over the weekend and saw the very selection whereof I speak.

I am sure that you wouldn't try to look up our skirts even if we intentionally put our very upper thighs on display. Right?

Due to the shortness of our skirts we will both be wearing white thigh highs that end just before the nylon starts. I hope that this doesn't distract you.

Finally, I understand that The Library serves a delicious pumpkin cake that may require some additional icing. I hope that you are up for this task. 

Kathy and I will see you tomorrow.

Elizabeth



Dear Eric,

If I can stop from vibrating (an affliction that presented itself during our lunch and hasn't stopped since) I will attempt to recount our time together.

Kathy and I were extremely nervous with anticipation as we drove to our rendezvous, The Library. Thankfully we were able to arrive early and had time to check out our table.

The setting of being surrounded by high book shelves as well as being in the very back of the restaurant gave me the comfort that I was seeking. It definitely made me feel that we would be able to enjoy ourselves without any undue interruptions or peeping eyes.

Originally the chairs were placed at all four corners, but we quickly rearranged them so you would be sitting opposite the two of us. As you found out later we had a little presentation of our own to make prior to yours.

I think that we were both surprised upon your arrival to find you seemingly so relaxed. It was the perfect offset to our rankled nerves. It really was nice to then spend our first 30 minutes enjoying a conversation and our lunch with you. As I had found out over coffee with you previously, you are quite enjoyable to be with. You may have noticed that neither Kathy nor I had much appetite as our minds and stomachs were on other things.

Finally our desserts were delivered and I knew that if the hostess followed my requests, we would be on our own going forward.

This became the perfect time for us to make our little presentation. As you recall we pushed our chairs back from the table and then climbed on top of the seat, so our feet were now on the seat of our chairs. Because the chairs were taken from an old library, they had the square back and flat top that allowed us to place our derrieres on the seat back, putting our knees and other parts of our lower anatomy directly at eye level for you.

I can't describe the wonderful look that took over your face once we got settled in our new positions and began to slowly move our knees apart. Your eyes didn't know whether to look up Kathy's or my own skirt first. As you found out, it made no real difference to us, since we were committed to letting you look for as long as you wanted.

I must confess that it was quite arousing for me to have you look up my skirt with such an expression of desire and pleasure. I am not sure whether you noticed any telltale signs of excitement, but I can tell you that I was starting to leak.

I think that Kathy was a little more impatient for your show than I was as she voiced her request of "Now its your turn," while I was still enjoying your visual examination of my panties. When you stood up and already had a wet spot on the front of your trousers, I almost fainted. OMG, (there I go again) it was so incredibly sexy to realize that you were aroused as well.

I don't know whether our little cadence of "Strip, strip, strip," added anything to the moment, but it sure provided some comedy. My eyes were glued to your hands as you undid your belt buckle, unbuttoned your khakis, and unzipped your zipper. I loved watching you slowly unveil yourself.

When Kathy yelled, "Drop them, " it was as if I had come out of a trance.

Although when you complied I just went deeper into another one. Your tiny beige bikini panties showed you off perfectly. The sight of your erection so clearly visible underneath the thin nylon fabric of your panties mesmerized me. The large wet spot just at the top of your prominent head was equally hypnotic. I enjoyed how you adjusted yourself so your penis pointed towards your hip instead of trying to push out the top of the elastic. That, of course, would come later. Opps, I think that I just wrote a double entendre.

You looked a little embarrassed when we told you to turn around for us. Hey, us girls enjoy a nice butt as well. And besides, it was a part of our plan anyway. With your back to us, it gave us both a chance to quickly stand up and pull our skirts up to our waists, so you could see all of our panties as well. Fair is fair.

I am still learning so much about Kathy as she definitely led the charge so to speak. When she said, "so show it to us," you didn't even hesitate. I loved watching you take a hold of the elastic of your very cute panties, pulling it away from your lower abdomen, and freeing your prominent pointer. Do you know that it gave a little twitch with every one of your heartbeats?

I never suspected that Kathy was going to touch it, but there again I really don't know her yet. She leaned her hand on the table and reached right over like it was so natural to wipe the ooze off of your twitching head with her finger. Then she licked her finger. OMG, OMG.

I watched your eyes roll back into head and knew that you were getting very close.

Of course, Kathy couldn't leave me out of it and continuously needled me to taste you as well. I don't know why I give in to her so much, however: I did want to find out what you tasted like. Remember how my hand slipped on the tabletop and my upper body slid forward and I found myself lying on top of the table with my skirt up around my waist. I am sure that both of my cheeks were exposed with my panties creeping up my bottom. It seems that sitting on the back of a chair isn't all that practical for keeping one's panties in place.

Anyway, my slip brought my face within inches of your protrusion. Did you purposely push your hips forward so your penis touched my lips?

"Kiss it," Kathy exhorted and I did. Your skin was so warm and smooth and the goo on your tip was nice and salty. Maybe I shouldn't have written this as you might think that I am some kind of a slut or something, but it is the truth.

Once you slipped out of my mouth, I could tell that you were there. I don't think that I have ever moved so fast, as I scrambled back into my seating position watching your entire body tense. You let out the most delectable moan as Kathy and I watched the first long white rope of ejaculate shoot across the table. At least Kathy had enough sense to duck behind her large napkin. Thankfully you were facing more towards her than me. 

Did you notice whether I completely opened my legs when you faced in my direction and your second explosion splashed across the table towards me? I think that I unconsciously did.

Wow, you really had some fluid stored up as you squirted again and again and again. You really did provide a delectable icing to our pumpkin cakes.

I don't think that either Kathy or myself realized that we were massaging ourselves as we watched you erupt over and over again. I almost orgasmed.

Thankfully we eventually realized where we were. I pulled my skirt back down and went to find some wet cloths from the wait staff.

I think that Kathy may have helped you wipe off and get reorganized. She would take the fun job.

Anyway I think that we did an admirable job of cleaning up, although the wet cloths probably had an unexpected odor to them when the wait staff cleaned our table.

I did go home and masturbate while remembering virtually every last detail of your unveiling and orgasm.

Hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.

Until next time,

Elizabeth

P.S. I almost forgot to add that my pumpkin cake was delicious. The mixture of sweet and salty was exquisite.

Dear Elizabeth,

I'm not sure that I can properly convey how much I enjoyed our lunch last week. Your delightful recounting of the events only added to the pleasure on all counts! I can add only a few points to the story, including some of my thoughts at the time and a tidbit or two about what occurred while you left the room.

As I'm sure you could tell by my reaction, I was totally surprised and absolutely thrilled when you and Kathy sat atop the chair backs and flashed me such fantastic upskirt views of your luscious charms, barely covered by your little sheer panties. I can't say who had the moister panties but I'd say that both of you were showing much more than just a telltale trace of sexual arousal. 

Oh how I would have loved to lick both of your moist panty crotches, making them all the wetter! I thought about undoing my pants in order to massage my throbbing member through my own little bikini panties. How incredibly sexy would it have been if all three of us had climaxed while watching each other masturbate like that?!?!

Of course, seeing you "slip" onto the table after I had exposed myself as prompted, was even better. When I saw your gorgeous bottom on display like that, only partially covered by your little panties and framed so nicely by your sexy thigh-highs and hiked-up skirt, I wanted to slap your cute butt and then flip you over and pull you toward me so that I could rub my rock-hard penis along your panty-covered mound until the tip brushed your hard little nub. I wanted to rub it against you like that until we both soaked your panties with our mixed juices. But once your lips touched it, there was no holding back all of the pent-up pressure and the explosion ensued!

While you were on the table, you probably didn't notice how Kathy kept rubbing and fingering herself. Just as you moved around and I started to spurt, I could tell by the grimace on her face and how she thrust her panty mound so hard against her probing fingers that she had a very intense and enjoyable orgasm. 

When you were out of the room, she came around and stood right in front of me with a devilish grin on her face. She put her right hand down her panties, fingered inside her slippery slit, and then brought her wet fingers up to my lips. As I sucked the flavor of her sex (secretly wanting it to be yours) off of them, she said, "you should have let her suck your cock and made her swallow all of your hot cum." 

I was sort of shocked by her words but I was also starting to get aroused again. 

She reached down and squeezed my still-oozing penis, rubbed some of the stickiness around my balls while telling me, "Professor, you have such a nice package. I love that it's all so nicely trimmed and your balls are so smooth. Next time, I want to feel that hard cock thrusting deep inside my cunt." 

After hearing her nasty talk and feeling her hand on me, I was getting stiff again while she stuffed everything back into my panties. 

Just after she stepped back, I saw you coming back around the book stacks. I didn't know if you had seen any of what went on between us. I don't know how close you two are but I do wonder if you are intimate with each other and whether she talks dirty to you too. Of course, you're free to just tell me to MYOB.

You point out that you're a married woman. I have similar feelings as a married man but, also similarly, I truly appreciate friends like you. I'm especially delighted to hear that you're interested in auditing my class. Please wear whatever makes you feel comfortable and may help stimulate the learning process. 

Logically, the class audit would have to start when we begin the next term with the second semester of chemistry. I know it's been a long time since you've taken chemistry, so I would be happy to spend a few informal, refresher sessions with you to help prepare you for the more challenging material next semester. If you're not comfortable doing so in my office, we could meet off campus for coffee or lunch whenever our schedules permit. 

Of course, you're welcome to bring Kathy along but she may not be interested in our focus on chemistry between us.

Shall we meet again soon for coffee, perhaps Friday or next Monday?

Hugs,

Eric

Dear sexy Eric,

I have so much to share with you that I will apologize before hand.




The Panty Perils of Me 25



I really should stop opening your emails at work. I can feel my entire body flush with nervous energy just seeing your name on my inbox list. Then when I read your messages I start to vibrate almost obscenely. The effect of our recent lunch has changed me.

Even Edward, the professor that I have talked about in my blog, has mentioned that I have changed. He doesn't find me quite as submissive to his every whim and desire. Our relationship is changing and I don't think that he likes it. You are in my thoughts constantly.

Don't be surprised if a certain Professor Eric starts to show up in my panty peril blogs.

I want to see you on Friday as I have so much to talk to you about. I am sure that you are familiar with The Study Nook. It is just three blocks from the science building. They are a combination coffee place and wine bar and cater specifically to graduate students. I think their set up of having private, dare I say intimate, little study nooks for their customers would suit us perfectly.

Please bring your class material so you can go over it with me. This would require us to sit on the same side of the booth, which will be a little unnerving for me. I am not sure how I will react to being right next to you.

I do have a brand new shirtdress with opposing zippers. One of the zippers unzips from the collar of the dress and the other unzips from the hem. It is quite playfully sexy and I have wanted to find the perfect opportunity to wear it. It is in a bright red and matching red string bikini panties would coordinate perfectly.

Ah, I am not sure why I just shared all of this with you. I have so much going on right now that I can't stop from writing down everything that is going through my mind. I hope you don't think that I am scattered.

Friday around 3:00 would work for me.

So besides having issues with Edward, I was invited by Arnold's father to the University Gala last weekend. I am sure that you are familiar with it as it is the chief money-raising event for the University. I didn't realize that Mr. Lawrence, Arnold's dad, was on the board of regents.

Everyone of status was there and I somehow was convinced to let myself be auctioned off as a personal assistant for a day.

This weekend I will be working with a construction crew working for Mr. Abromski, our town's real estate mogul. He won my services and wants me to spend the day with his crew to provide them a little fun or something.

I am really nervous about it.

Anyway, Mr. Lawrence blew a cork as he wanted to win the auction and treated me abysmally.

I will send you a copy of my blog so you know the whole story.

So now to my confession: Arnold is a neighbor of mine and from the time he hit puberty he has ogled me. Each and every time I was outside wearing skirts, dresses, swimming suits, shorts, etc. he was always around. He saw me get spanked by Edward and a friend, who forced me to remove my skirt outdoors for their benefit and a photo session. They used previous photos of me in another compromising situation to make me do as they said. He used this information to coerce me to attend a fraternity party where I got a little tipsy and acted out. I also agreed to go to another party with him and afterwards I jerked him off right on a campus sidewalk.

I have a fetish for seeing men ejaculate. Your performance at lunch was the ultimate fantasy for me. 

My morning showers have been extended by at least 15 minutes as I aim the spray from the shower head at the perfect target on my lower anatomy and relive watching your eyes close and head jerk back with your mouth wide open, pushing your hips forward as your erection thrusts forward and explodes, emitting long tendrils of white crème that splashes across our pumpkin cakes, plates, and the tabletop.

OMG, I am so aroused just writing this down.

Anyway to get back on topic, I began to use Arnold as my little plaything and his father, Mr. Lawrence found out, and now wants to own me himself.

My other major fetish is men who wear panties for all of the reasons that I have shared with you. Men's underwear is too functional and not sexy enough. Panties have such a nice thin nylon material that they show everything a man has to offer.

You wear them almost too well.

I keep getting off topic just thinking about you.

So anyway, now I have issues with Mr. Lawrence who is using my past relationship with his son, who was an adult but still 20 years younger than myself.

Finally, the urge to spank me and then rub yourself on my intimate place that you shared with me has me on edge.

I have my own little confession to make on Friday about something that I would like you to do for me. I can't believe that I am even writing you about this and I may chicken out. So make me tell you no matter what I say.

Oh, and Kathy is a little tart. 

I personally have a difficult time using words like "cock" and "cunt". 

But here goes, Eric, you have a fabulous cock and I also love how you shave all around it.

God, I better end this before I become a total tart as well.

Elizabeth

Elizabeth,

I'm very much looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow afternoon for coffee and chemistry. Your comment that, "...I have my own little confession to make on Friday about something that I would like you to do for me...." has me totally curious about what that "something" might be. If you make me wait until tomorrow to find out, you can be sure that I won't let you get away without confessing!

I also can keep from thinking about you wearing that "playfully sexy" red dress (and undies). Zippers can be such fun!

Eric



Dear Eric,

I am not exactly sure where to start, but it makes sense to begin with me at work.

I was nervous and yet very anxious for 3:00 to roll around. Since it was Friday, I knew that I could get out early and spend a couple of hours with you.

Finally, the time arrived to depart and I literally ran to my car and climbed inside.

On my way to the Study Nook to meet you, for some unknown reason, I decided to try my zipper again. Just like before as if I hadn't learned my lesson, when I moved it ever so slightly it sprang up my thighs, over my stomach and stopped just short of my belly button.

So here again I was uncovered to the very top of my tiny silk red string bikini panties. Only this time I was making my way through the university just as classes had let out.

All I had was my purse to place across my lap. I don't think that it covered enough of me as I had quite a few of the students looking down inside my window.

I kept thinking that this was a rather upsetting way to begin my date with you.

I probably didn't explain, but once the zipper is northbound up my torso, the only way to get it back in place is to stand up and pull it down. It is virtually impossible to get back in place while sitting, which was my issue shortly after sitting down with you.

I parked the car just a short walk to the Nook and once I was erect, (Should I be using that term considering my later experience with you?) I was able to get my zipper back in place.

I asked about you and our server led me into the back coffee area and there you sat hidden away in a private little nook with your chemistry papers strewn across the tabletop.

I have to admit that my heart skipped a little beat to see you again.

I rather clumsily climbed into the seat alongside of you and in the act of sliding down towards you; my damn zipper did its little foray up my lower torso. It seems that I hadn't properly secured it when I earlier pulled it back into place.

So my greeting for you was to almost immediately unveil my bright red panties.

I stammered, too embarrassed to talk, and started to slide back out of the booth, when you calmly stopped me and said in your assuring way that I needn't pull it back down as it would provide the perfect view as we continue our conversation.

My entire body began to vibrate. I have to admit that my lower lips were aquiver.

I believe that it was right at this time that our server came in to take our coffee order. I could have died as he positioned himself at the side of our booth looking directly down our bench. There was no way to hide my exposure. I tried to tug at my dress, but my previous sliding back and forth had firmly ensconced it under my bottom making it look like I had a red top on without any pants.

And to make matters worse, when I crossed my legs it just pulled the fabric of my red panties down between my legs making it look like I had on the tiniest g-string ever.

Did you enjoy my discomfort? I only ask because you just sat there seemingly enjoying the entire scenario as the young man stared at my bare legs and stomach while I tried in vain to cover myself up.

If I had only known that this was just the start of my humiliating afternoon.

Anyway, we got our coffee and scones and settled into a review of your coursework. I found your style of explanation to be very informative and non-condescending. I appreciate being treated like an intelligent woman despite my wardrobe flaws.

As you poured me another cup of the Peruvian coffee that we were enjoying, you asked me about my secret fantasy. I knew that it was coming, but still my heart made a little start in my chest and I had to swallow to prepare myself to share with you a closely kept secret fantasy of mine.

So her it is again for you to read:

I have a very secret fantasy that has me attending your chemistry classes. This is why I want to audit your class. Each time I purposely wear a very short skirt or dress with either bare legs or thigh high stockings. I always make it a point to sit directly in front of your vision. As the classroom has tiered seating, I am able to secure a seat that has my knees at the same height as your eyes. For the entire class I continuously attempt to distract you with views up my skirt or dresses letting you enjoy my collection of satin, silk and nylon colors and patterns. I am incorrigible in my attempt to get your attention often resorting to having my knees wide apart so there is no doubt as to what I am wearing underneath.

You react as I wish you to react with a telltale ridge up along the front of your pants. I can see it and so can everyone else.

Finally after weeks of this, you decide to take action. As the students are leaving the classroom, you require me in a loud voice to remain behind. With the students still filing out of the room, you push me so that I am straddling the corner of your lab table. My body is forced down upon the tabletop with my legs hanging over the edge and my toes barely touching the ground. I give out a little yelp of surprise as you unceremoniously pull my skirt well above my waist revealing a very form fitting pair of tiny bikini panties that have ridden up my posterior as I was sitting in your lecture hall. My voiced complaint draws the attention of a number of students who still haven't made it out of the door. You don't care as you take a hold of a wooden ruler and began to smack my nylon clad bottom causing me to flail my legs and squeal with surprise and embarrassment.

While you are attending to my discipline a number of the other students who have heard a commotion file back into the room and now I have an audience to my humiliation as you continue to paddle my behind.

The worst is yet to come as my positioning over the corner of the table has put my most intimate part directly in contact with the tabletop and each slap across my almost bare behind results in the grinding my crotch into the table. It doesn't take long for my other parts to react as my flower petals began to part and my tiny stamen pokes out to receive an almost vulgar massage as I squirm and gyrate on the corner. Then with everyone still watching my squeals of pain and humiliation began to transform into moans of preorgasmic delight. Very shortly followed by my cadence of "Yes, Yes, Yes." Finally with a loud pronouncement of your name I began a series of spasms and convulsions that make it clear to everyone in attendance that I am orgasming.

That was my fantasy.

I loved the look in your eyes has I completed my narrative. You had definitely enjoyed it as was evident by the large ridge in your pants with a deepening wet stain appearing at the top.

You then asked me to demonstrate the position of my body on the corner of your desk.

Why is it that I can't just say I would rather not when I am with you?

I slid out of the booth pulling my dress completely up and away from my lower half so you could see the front and back of my string bikini panties. Very gingerly I moved my legs slightly apart so my crotch was in direct contact with the corner of our table. Then as I leant forward placing my upper body on the table, our server decided to again make an appearance.

There I was with my panties on full view and my barely covered posterior in the air looking like I was humping the tabletop. Could my life get any more embarrassing or humiliating?

And does our server excuse himself, offering to come back later? Of course not! He continues to watch as I slide my intimate area off of the table leaving a small streak of liquid residue behind.

I could have died.

Anyway after asking if we needed anything else while starring at my open dress and red silk crotch he finally left us alone.

At this point I will leave it up to you to explain what happened next or I can continue in another email. I only ask, why is it when you were on display with your pants down around your knees, our server was nowhere to be found?

Elizabeth

Dear Elizabeth,

I just finished re-reading (for about the fifth time at least) your incredibly erotic and well-written account of the first part of our coffee date.

It's quiet here in my office and I hope that lasts long enough for me to continue the saga from my point of view. I must say that my cock is already very stiff and straining to break out of my lacy red boy shorts. Yes, it's the same pair that I wore for you last Friday. My pants are open and I'm occasionally rubbing it as I type this, imagining that you are watching it twitch and ooze a tiny bit every time I touch it. There's a definite damp, sticky spot in my panties already.

So, back to Friday:

After the waiter left us, with you getting ready to cum from humping your crotch on the corner of the table, and me holding my hard penis through my red panties and getting ready to explode into them any second, I was suddenly struck with the reality of what was happening. Two visions of that damn waiter flashed through my brain. In one, he was in the men's room jerking off while thinking about his cock thrusting deep into that hot MILF pussy from behind. In the other (more likely I thought), he was in the kitchen telling his buddies what he had just seen. Of course, they would have all had to come out and see for themselves. 

Can you imagine the circle jerk that might have taken place at our table over your nearly naked body?!?! 

But what really hit me and caused me to quickly pull up my pants and pack it in was the imagined evening news teaser, "Prominent college professor and female companion charged with public lewdness. University authorities promise full investigation."

I slapped your ass a bit harder than I probably should have and commanded, "Elizabeth, get dressed! We're leaving!" Perhaps similar thoughts were crossing your mind at the same time, I don't know, but you stood up and did as you were told. 

For an instant, my eyes focused on the wet streak that your steaming crotch had left on the table and I pictured the waiter lapping it up after we left. Now, I'm kind of wishing I had done so myself. As we left the coffee shop, I was trying not to make eye contact with any of the staff or customers, desperately hoping that no one I knew was in there!

Outside, I realized that it was now after five and thought how easy it was to spend time with you. I couldn't tell if the look on your face was one of embarrassment, shame, fear, or all of the above. Mine was more one of amazement, with you, especially since I was still picturing your exposed body and remembering that vivid description of your secret fantasy. 

You merely said, "I should go" and headed toward your car. I quickly grabbed you and hugged you tight, saying, "not so fast, Darlin', our study session isn't over!" 

I began to walk rapidly toward the science building and you came along without saying anything. When the elevator opened for us on the first floor, two of my young faculty colleagues, one male, one female, were leaving. In her always-friendly manner, the pretty petite female smiled at me and remarked, "Working late today?" 

Did you notice how she glanced back at us just before the doors closed? She eyed you up and down and then nodded at me with a little wink as she turned away. 

Of course, by now, I'm sure that you knew we were going to my office to continue that "study session." Indeed, studying you and your fantasy in more depth was exactly what I had in mind. I was holding you gently around the waist, thinking how you didn't seem to mind my touch, as we entered the office. You also didn't protest when I re-locked the door. We went into the inner office and over to my desk, which I noticed, probably for the first time, had smooth, rounded wood corners. I sat down behind the desk and you stood beside it. 

"Turn around, Elizabeth, I want to see how nicely that pretty dress fits you." 

As I was admiring your legs and tight butt, feeling my cock begin to stiffen, I silently removed my shoes and pants. I also gave my cock a quick rub, bringing it to full attention, and reached into my desk drawer for a 16-inch metal ruler. I rubbed the cool length of it along my panty-covered hard-on and then, without warning, smacked it hard and loudly on your butt. I'm sure it caught you by surprise and, no doubt, stung you even through your dress and those skimpy little red panties.

"So, you want to be spanked by your professor, Ms. Harley. Well, you certainly deserve it after your rather slutty behavior in the coffee shop today, to say nothing of our luncheon last week." I swatted your pretty butt again, catching you off balance a bit so that you moved over against the desk to steady yourself. I got up and leaned against your back, forcing my hardness against your ass. I knew that you sensed that it was just my sheer panties stretched over my cock because you pushed back against it and said, "Oh Eric, yes!"

I rubbed the cold ruler against the skin of your pretty neck, leaning in close to inhale your womanly scent, and then reached around and slowly pulled the top zipper down, exposing your sexy little red bra. Looking down, I saw that your nipples were already hard and standing up beneath the silky bra. I lowered the ruler down your front and stroked it's full length against each of your nipples in turn, listening to you moan with delight and feeling your bottom rubbing even harder against my cock. I wanted to slip your bra off and warm the ruler by rubbing it roughly on your taut little nipples but I also had other ideas.

I leaned back enough to allow for two more swift smacks across your butt. Leaning back in, I sucked on your ear lobe and then whispered, "Take off your dress, Elizabeth." But before you could react or protest, I reached around and down to that lower, golden loop. With the ruler in the same hand, I began to pull the zipper up, gently and slowly enough to enjoy the unveiling process. The ruler trailed my hand, sliding against your legs and then your inner thighs toward your sexy red panties. 

When it touched your silk-covered mound, I turned it on edge and began to slid it up and down, easing it into your slit and up against your hard little clitty, with only the thin piece of silk insulating your hot pleasure nub from the cold metal. I could feel your body shiver and shake. 




The Panty Perils of Me 25



I wanted so desperately to completely expose your pussy but I didn't know if you would let things go quite that far. Instead, I withdrew the ruler and backed off a little so that I could push you from behind, making you lean down over the desk.

I flopped the dress up over your back and guided you forward so that your crotch was against the desk corner (a position that you seem to thoroughly enjoy). With your gorgeous ass now on complete display for me, save for the tiny red triangle of your little panties, I quickly slapped the ruler three times in rapid succession against each butt cheek. 

You moaned loudly and protested a bit that it hurt. However, you clearly enjoyed it because you were grinding your pussy mound harder against the desk with each smack. 

I lowered my panties enough to release the entire package, allowing the waistband of the panties to push tightly up on that sensitive spot beneath my cum-filled balls.

I was lusting over your rosy-red butt cheeks and staring at the thin strip of your panties, seeing it inch deeper into your delectable derriere. Your ass was essentially completely naked before my eyes as I smacked it again, not nearly so hard then, but several more times, at least 5 or 6 times, rapidly on each side and then two harder ones across the center. 

You were practically screaming in ecstasy now, humping harder and faster against the corner of the table. 

Knowing that we were both ready to climax, I quickly pulled the panty fabric out of your crack and thrust my hard, throbbing cock between it and your bare ass. I thrust it in and out a few times, before feeling your entire body tighten and shudder against me as your orgasm hit you very hard. Mine did as well and my cock exploded, spurting forth gob after gob of hot, sticky cum into your panties and all over your luscious bottom. 

After what seemed like several more minutes of complete pleasure, I flopped back into my chair and you slowly stood up, looking back at me with an incredulous look on your face. My cum was dripping from the bottom of your soaked panties and starting to run down your legs. I began to rub it up and around, smearing it over your thighs and up onto your butt cheeks, massaging them, perhaps easing the sting of the spanking. 

My god, how you seemed to really enjoy that, Elizabeth!

It was getting late and I think we both knew that it was time to quit. You started to rearrange yourself and I stood up and pulled my panties back up over my slippery, semi-hard cock. Before you had your dress re-zipped, I leaned onto your back again, rubbing my panty-cock against your ass tightly again. 

"I want your panties, Elizabeth. Take them off. They're too wet to wear home now anyway." 

Before you could protest, I reached into another drawer and pulled out the blue bikini pair that I had worn at The Library. 

"Wear these instead. I want the red ones." 

Without turning around and being careful not to show me anything I hadn't yet seen, you slithered out of the wet, red pair and into my dry blue ones. I took the red pair and sniffed the front panel that had borne the brunt of the desk's assault of your sweetness. 

Then I kissed your bare neck and told you to, "masturbate in my blue panties, Elizabeth, as you remember this study session and think about the next one."

It was getting dark by then so I walked you back to your car. 

Neither of us spoke.

I wasn't certain how you felt but I could sense inner warmth from the intimacy, albeit of an unusual sort, that we had just experienced. I only knew that I wanted more.

I'm sorry for the length of this e-mail but, once I got going, I couldn't hold back. I hope you're having a good day at work. Until next time....

Eric

PS. My panties are a sticky mess right now. I'll be going commando the rest of the day and it's a good thing my slacks are dark blue.

Dear Eric.

I was relieved that you decided to write about what happened after our server left. I am still trying to sort through my feelings about everything.

It was so natural for me to just do as you instructed without any questions or suspicions. I honestly didn't know what you had in mind when you led me to your building. As I have said it is so easy for me to just simply do as I am told.

Yes, I did notice your female colleague's reaction to me and her sly little smile. Am I led to believe that you have played with other women beside myself in your office? 

I was so embarrassed as I modeled my dress for you despite the fact that I purposely wore it because I knew that you would appreciate how it showed me off particularly from my waist down. I knew that my tiny panty lines would be quite visible. I had noticed them when I bought the dress, and it made me feel quite risqué.

When you stung my backside with your ruler, I was definitely caught by surprise. It not only startled me as it was so sudden and firm, but it also ignited all of the feelings that surround my latent fantasy of being spanked publicly in your classroom.

It was so confusing for me to feel so violated while at the same time so aroused.

When you pushed yourself against me I did know that you had removed your pants. I could feel the heat of your passion pressed against my cheeks. If you had been wearing your pants, the warmth would not have been so intense.

I wanted to turn around and look, but you were in control.

Asking me if I wanted to be spanked brought on a series of tiny little convulsions inside my intimate area. How does a proper person respond to such a question?

I couldn't help myself when I replied, "Oh yes, Eric." It was another humiliation that thoroughly aroused me.

Then with my top zipper pulled down to my waist you slid your metal ruler over my hard little nubs. I couldn't help but moan in total supplication to your touch.

You asked me to take my dress off, but before I could comply, you pulled my bottom zipper up to meet with the top one exposing my lower half in the same manner as you had exposed my top half.

Sliding the ruler up along my bare legs and pushing it against my moist crotch made me want to faint in pure ecstasy. It ignited every nerve ending in my lower body as they cried out for some sort of release.

I was trembling in anticipation of what I knew was going to follow; a good sound spanking.

I knew that you wanted to expose me further as I could feel it in your touch. Thankfully you didn't act on your desire as I am a married woman and don't want to violate my vows anymore than I seem to be doing already.

Somehow I have been able to reconcile my activities to this point and am afraid that being nude, particularly from the waist down, would throw my delicate sensibilities over the cliff.

I need to maintain a sense of decorum no matter how fabricated and false it might truly be.

I can't possibly explain the feelings that coursed through me when you pulled my dress up and over my barely covered bottom. As you so aptly described, my silk panties were no longer covering much of my cheeks as I pushed them out towards you visibly indicating my compliance with your plans to swat my bare skin.

The first stinging slap sent a bolt of electricity through my loins literally turning on my water works.

I do apologize for my very lewd behavior.

I was hoping that you wouldn't notice my attempt to orgasm by humping your desktop. It was just another of a growing list of very humiliating experiences for me.

When I become sexually charged, I can't control anything that I do as my entire focus is to achieve one orgasm after another.

My latest Panty Peril blog will bear that out as I assisted Mr. Abromski's crew last Saturday. 

Hopefully this can also offer some explanation of how I seemingly enjoyed your ejaculation across my bottom and between my cheeks. The warmth of your excitement as well as the amount did bring me to the edge and I met each of your ejaculations with my own little orgasmic spasm.

Having you then rub it over my thighs and reddened bottom was almost obscene. Why I relished your touch as well as having your sticky spunk all over my backside is another facet of our time together that I can't explain.

You literally explode when you orgasm, don't you? The amount of goo running down my legs and along my smile was incredible.

You were kind to describe my process of cleaning up as rearranging myself. As you recall I had to hold my dress away from your goo until it dried to a consistency that wouldn't cause it to soak into my dress.

You just sat and watched my almost uncovered body dripping with the evidence of your excitement.

You liked spanking me, didn't you?

I could see you becoming hard again. A view that I seem to relish.

Then you told me to remove my panties.

I naturally turned away from you and did my best job of not showing you more than I was willing to while uncovering my trimmed mound and swollen lips.

I did appreciate you giving me your own panties for me to wear home, although you definitely don't wear a size XS, do you?

I then excused myself and completely cleaned up in the faculty restroom. Thankfully no one was on your floor when I made my way down the hall with my dress completely open and held away from my body.

I wonder what your colleagues would be saying if they had seen me slink out of your office after having been baptized with your cream? 

As we parted it was too difficult for me to say anything, as I had never expected what took place between us despite our lunch together with Kathy.

How does one comment on an experience that is at the same time so embarrassing and humiliating and so extremely arousing? Do I simply say, "Shall we try this again next week?"

I was speechless.

I am at a crossroads, I guess. I so want to see you again and at the same time want to stay away.

And just to demonstrate my internal conflict, I am going to audit your course next semester and sincerely hope that my shared fantasy with you comes to fruition.

I realize that your own professional reputation will be affected, and understand to my disappointment that it might remain a fantasy.

Are we running out of places to meet around campus? I could always suggest a place closer to my work.

Elizabeth



The Panty Perils of Me 26





I am getting together with Professor Eric for the fourth time. 

Who knew when I accidentally checked the incorrect box for night courses at the U that my mistake would turn out to be such an exciting opportunity to find my boundaries and desires without others forcing me or telling me what to do for their desires?

I wanted to have him all to myself this time. I also wanted to get him all worked up.

I had recently gone to lunch with a number of my co-workers to a restaurant that had just opened. It was called The Teahouse. It styles itself after an authentic teahouse. Each table was enclosed inside a private room with wood and rice paper walls. You stepped up into each dining area, leaving your shoes on the entrance step. The tables were only 2 feet off of the ground and you sat on pillows. Each dining area had a double set of doors that slid open and closed for privacy.

It also had the standard section where the guests sat around a large cooking surface while the cooks put on a display of flipping and slicing your food in front of you.

But I was interested in the separate dining areas.

Although it was quite awkward to sit on a pillow with a short skirt, I quickly learned how to kneel with my feet under my bottom. This position still showed quite a bit of my legs and some of my stocking tops, but certainly was better than allowing my male co-workers a clear view up my skirt.

However with Eric, I had something very different in mind. I was in one of my moods; the kind that has me wanting to act out sexually. Once one of these moods comes upon me, I have found it easier to just go with it instead of fight it.

So I emailed Eric and invited him to join me for lunch at The Teahouse. My email included a proposition as well. I bet Professor Erik that I could give him an erection without ever touching him. If I succeeded than he would have to masturbate in front of me while we were in our private dining room.

So how do you feel when you are getting dressed knowing that you will be purposely showing off your intimates to another person? And the purpose of showing off your intimates to this other person is to get him excited. Excited to the point of bursting.

He likes panties and I like to show mine to him.

Wouldn't that make for a perfect relationship? However, we are both married and committed to our spouses, although I guess not quite enough since he brings out my naughty side.

So here I am pulling on my pair of nylon ivory string bikini panties that have a sheer front with verticals lines of material to offset the sheerness. I am looking at myself in the mirror to see what I intend to let him see. My stomach is doing flip-flops and my throat is dry as I gaze at my reflection. My trimmed mound is plainly visible through the front netting and I can see a little glistening of moisture starting to form. The sheer material extends down low enough so the beginning of my lower lips can be seen and they are starting to drool. They are already swollen with excitement and slightly parted as if to bestow a tender kiss on a lover's cheek, although these lips don't exactly kiss.

I begin to chastise myself for even considering doing what I intend to do. It is to no avail. My secret desires and latent need to exhibit myself have already taken over. As I have already stated, I am in one of my moods . I steady my trembling hands pulling on a white silk blouse neglecting to wear a bra underneath. My perky little nipples push against the silk in their attempt to put a permanent dent on the fabric. I look at them in the mirror as I button my blouse leaving the top two buttons open allowing my luncheon date a tiny glimpse of my barely there cleavage.

I was one of those girls that bloomed very late and my particular blooms developed more as tulips than sunflowers. I can't say that I don't wish that I was bigger, however; I have become quite satisfied with my breastlets just as they are.

I enjoy seeing my nipples so erect and firm pushing against the silk fabric. They certainly make up for my lack of size.

My blouse reaches just to the top of my panties and I have this delicious thought using it as my only clothing. Yes, I am definitely in one of my moods.

My navy blue thigh highs come on next. I love how smooth they make my legs look becoming the perfect contrast to my white blouse and ivory panties.

Almost reluctantly I pull on a navy blue pin striped skirt and zip the side zipper closing the eyehook. Sitting on the bed and looking again in the mirror, I notice how easy it will be to let Professor Eric look up my skirt. I watch myself as I move my knees wide apart and then back together again. It causes a very nice feeling all though my lower region.

I picked The Teahouse because it is a traditional Japanese style restaurant with tables barely two feet off of the floor requiring the diners to sit on pillows either cross-legged or with their bottoms resting on their heels. It makes for a very interesting decision if you are a woman with a skirt or dress; that is if you are not like me; at least not like me today.

My matching suit jacket goes on last covering my telltale nubs at least until lunch.

I always wear what I consider to be sexy lingerie, but it usually doesn't take me 30 minutes to get dressed.

So how does one get dressed when they are purposely going to show off their intimates to another person? One gets dressed with a purpose.

My morning at work seems to last forever and it is difficult for me to concentrate on anything other than my luncheon appointment. I am not the best employee today as I am filled with anxiety and apprehension; the good kind. The kind that makes everything below your navel twitch and quiver with excitement.

I realize that I never checked to see whether we needed reservations. I call The Teahouse and a lovely female voice comes on the phone speaking in broken English. I explain to her that I am hoping to entertain a male companion for lunch and wondered whether I required reservations. She is quite perceptive and noticed immediately my emphasis on the word "entertain". She asks me if I am interested in a special dining experience for my guest.

God, if I wasn't in one of my moods, I certainly would have responded, "No thank you. I am just hoping for a nice private lunch." I would show up and let Professor Eric look up my skirt for an hour while we enjoyed our meal. But I am more than curious, so instead I say, "I am very interested."

She tells me that she will make reservations for us at 12:30, but that I need to get there as soon as I can. The time is now 10:30, but I manage to explain to my manager that I need to take 3 ½ hours off due to an unexpected situation. I am fortunate that my manager appreciates me and doesn't require any further explanation. Off I go.

I arrive at the restaurant and walk inside. A beautiful Japanese woman with jet-black hair held up in back by long thin chopsticks that are crisscrossed in her hair greets me at the door. She is wearing an ivory colored kimono with cheery blossoms embroidered in the material. The wonderful twist to her traditional garb is that the kimono is a mini dress. 

I tell her that I am the woman that had just called about the special dining experience, but somehow she already knows. I wonder if I stood out as I expect most women don't wear a short suit skirt and heels to a traditional Japanese teahouse.

She takes me into the dressing area behind the kitchen and tells me to undress to my undies. I look around seeing that the entire staff including the hibachi cooks are all female. Other than the Geisha hostess, they are all wearing Japanese tunics in a dark red material with wide sleeves and black velvet trim on the cuffs and on the mandarin collar. The tunics are very short reaching just past their bottoms. Underneath I can see white lycra short shorts. I am beginning to like this place more and more.

As I am getting out of my clothes, the hostess explains that I am to be a Geisha in training, which is what the entire staff is supposed to be dressed as. We are not considered to be worthy to wear the mini kimono until we have served our masters successfully. It sounds like my kind of role-play.

"Do you want to be very risqué?" the hostess asks me as she sees my sheer front panties and lack of bra. I simply nod in reply.

She tells one of the servers in Japanese something and off the server goes. When she returns she has a deep navy blue tunic that will make me standout from the rest of the staff as if being Irish in an all Asian community wouldn't serve the same purpose.

I slip the tunic over my head and am able to take a hold of the hem to pull it down my torso. It is that short. My tunic stops about 3 inches from my crotch letting anyone looking at me see the very start of my sheer front panties and the very bottom of my ivory clad cheeks. Another of the staff hands me a pair of the white short shorts, but my Geisha instructor shakes her head. Instead of heels, we ware ballet slippers.

"You are ready except for makeup," she says and directs me to follow one of the other servers.

I then am seated in a kind of barber chair and the traditional white face and ruby cheeks of a Geisha are applied to my face. When they are finished I am transformed into an extremely sexy and provocative Geisha trainee. I am now barely recognizable under the makeup and doubt very much whether anyone will be looking at my face anyways. The timing is perfect, as they have just opened the doors for lunch.

I am assigned to one of the servers. She is a beautiful Asian girl in her twenties with traditional Japanese features. I stand almost an entire head over her, which makes for a very interesting contrast. She takes my hand saying, "Hurry, please" and pulls me out of the dressing room, through the kitchen, out past the hibachi's and through the hallways with the private dining rooms. I assume that she is taking me to my dining area to await Eric. Instead I find myself in a long line of other servers all placed just inside the front door to greet the incoming guests and wait to be assigned to the diners.

I am shocked to find myself on display as the business community arrives for lunch.

When I was here the week before no one was in any sort of costume and it appeared to be just a new restaurant. In the matter of one short week it had transformed itself, just like they had transformed me, into a very sexy themed Japanese restaurant catering to a mostly male clientele. I was relieved to see a very large Japanese man dressed in a black suit making his presence known. My server/trainer, Rita, pointed at him and said, "Not to worry," indicating that we were undoubtedly safe from most activities other than playful slaps and "accidental" touching.

It was 12:00 and I had 30 minutes before Eric was to arrive.

We are assigned to a group of four men and another group of three, who requested a tearoom. The group of three has a woman with them smartly dressed in nice fitting black slacks and a gray silk blouse.

The group of four men includes my manager who for now has no idea that I am the one standing in front of him with my panties on display about to serve him and his companions.

I feel like I am going to throw up.

The hostess recognizes my reluctance. Placing her hand on my arm, she tells me that this is just to make my experience that much more memorable and to show me how to behave when my special guest arrives. Somehow she knows me inside and out.

We show our guests to their assigned teahouses having them sit down on the step so we can remove their shoes. I watch how my trainer squats down instead of bending forward to take each man's shoes off. I was in the process of simply bending forward until I realized how my tunic would end up halfway up my back if I continued. I guess that I did have a bit to learn to perform for my special guest. I squatted down just like Rita keeping my knees tightly together so I didn't show off too much, but I still knew that my nylon covered lips could seen through the small opening between my ankles. My manager noticed as well and I felt my entire body tremble in reaction to his look.

It was very much like wearing an extremely sexy Halloween costume where no one could recognize you, although you could recognize them.

We then rose up and stood on either side of the sliding doors opening them and bowing to our guests as they entered their teahouse. Just the simple act of bowing brought my tunic up and over my bottom as I could feel the slight change in temperature across my nylon-covered cheeks. Once our guests were seated on their pillow, Rita showed me how to kneel down at the end of the table bending our knees and sitting on our feet. This position took the already tight fabric of my panties and pulled it up and into my cheeks. When I reached behind me to adjust my developing thong, Rita quickly stopped me with a single shake of her head.

I was learning quickly that we served our guests above all else.

We presented the menus and asked for drink orders. To better echo the theme and tone of the restaurant, I found myself trying to mimic Rita's broken English. Rita glanced at me with approval.

We repeated the same process with our party of three. Although as I was taking the woman's heels off she discreetly slid one of her stocking feet between my ankles and rubbed my crotch with her toes. My eyes closed and I let out a little moan that caught Rita's attention. She seemed quite accustomed to what was happening to me, as she didn't show approval or disdain regarding our client's sexual interaction with me. It occurred to me that women guests could get away with much more than the males, as I doubted that our large protector was apt to throw any women out of the door.

The next part was a bit tricky as it required me to get much more up close and personal with my assigned guests. When we brought the tea and sake along with cups it required Rita and I to go into the small room and work our way around the diners in order to serve them. We weren't allowed to stand, but had to kneel and walk on our knees as we placed the cups in front of each person, and then poured either the sake or tea for each person. This had me reaching around and through my assigned guests who took every opportunity, of which there were many, to look at my barely clad bottom. I had to force myself to ignore their stares and "accidental" rubbing across my cheeks. My manager was particularly interested in watching my backside as I shuffled myself between his companions. There was no way to prevent my tunic from rising up to the top of my now disappearing panties. Every little sideway glance that I took towards my manager confirmed his desire to see my cheeks.

The thought of him finding out that he was looking at one of his employees caused my face to flush and goose bumps to form on my bare legs.

As for my other assigned guests, the female guest remained true to her desires and took every opportunity to find my lower lips and provide them with some manual attention as I directed my serving efforts to another member of her party. She definitely knew how to get the most from the least amount of effort. By the time we had served their lunch order, I was ready to orgasm.

Just to think that only 90 minutes ago I was sitting in my cubicle at work thinking about my lunch date with Eric, and now I am flashing my undies for complete strangers all except for one.

It was all so exhilarating as I felt so humiliated and embarrassed over my continuous exposure while at the same time thoroughly enjoying every second of it. So what's new, right?

I couldn't wait for Eric to arrive.

The hostess found me as I was finishing clearing the dishes for my table of four. I had just been slapped across one of my almost bare cheeks by my slightly inebriated manager and needed to extricate myself from his reach. Thankfully she instructed another Geisha in training to take my tray and let me to the front door.

I had described Eric to her and so she knew who and when to expect him.

 You were coming up the walk just as I got to the front door. As you came in, the Geisha hostess greeted you with a light bow and a welcoming smile. 

I loved how you enjoyed her mini kimono and I watched you look her over. You never leer or stare at a woman, but you drink in their vision as if we were a fine wine to savor. It gives me tingles when you savor me. The hostess bowed towards you and then nodded at me. It was the first time that you noticed me standing there. Maybe I should be upset, but the sight of a fully made up Geisha in a mini kimono certainly can offer a distraction worth taking, and besides there really was no way for you to recognize me unless you had a photographic memory of my legs. I in turn bowed to you and gestured for you to follow me. They had done just a good job with my makeup that I could tell that you hadn't figured it out to be me as yet.

I could feel your eyes on my legs and panty-covered cheeks as I purposely wiggled as I walked in front of you. The mood that I had been in all morning was getting worse or better depending upon your perspective. I liked it.

You followed me keeping just the right distance so you could see how short my tunic was. I relished every moment as if you were looking at me for the very first time. I guess in a way you were, as you still had no idea who I was. When we were outside our teahouse I motioned for you to sit down on the step so I could remove your shoes. I then squatted down, only this time I left a space of 4 to 5 inches between my knees. As I took off your shoes, you didn't disappoint me. One glance at my ivory covered crotch and you exclaimed, "Elizabeth?" I looked at you and smiled saying, "I will be your personal server today," in my best-broken English. Your expression told me all that I needed to know.

I opened the teahouse doors and bowed my head as you entered. You started to talk to me, but I put one finger on my lips and repeated, "I am here to serve you."

Once you sat down, I then knelt down at the edge of the table with my bottom resting on my heels and asked you for your drink order. I added in my newfound accent, "I would recommend the sake and tea, if you please." You nodded in agreement and I rose up again bowing towards you feeling my tunic raise up over my bottom and hoping that you noticed as I closed the doors behind me. Rita was assisting me in the kitchen and already had the tray set with the tea and sake pitcher along with the cups. I took them and hurried back to you.

As I had learned, I knelt down with the tray placed on the stairs and opened the sliding doors. Your camel colored pants were impressively tented in front causing a little ripple of delight to pass through my entire body. I picked up the tray and again knelt down inside the room shuffling on my knees towards you until I was near enough to serve you. Leaning forward as far as I could knowing that my posture would cause my tunic to completely raise up and over my string bikini panties I placed both pitchers in front of you along with the cups. I purposely placed each item one at a time so my tunic was constantly shifting up and down allowing you to see my barely covered derriere. I watched for your reaction simply by constantly looking at your lap.

Your erection was already free from the tiny white panties that you had promised to wear for me as I could make out its silhouette poking against the soft fabric of your trousers. I expected that by the time I was finished placing the pitchers and cups I would see a wet spot starting to form on the camel colored material. I was not disappointed.




The Panty Perils of Me 26



As you drank, I stayed positioned right beside you still sitting on my heels.

This may have been the part of our lunch that I enjoyed the most. As you enjoyed the sake and tea, you told me about your day; how much you couldn't wait to see me; what a pleasant surprise it was when you did; and about your chemistry class. I played the role of a Geisha in training listening to every word, offering a smile when it felt appropriate, and always making sure that your cup was full. I loved how you would stop talking when I leant over you to refill your cup. It gave me the perfect opportunity to see your wet spot slowly expanding while you took a long look at my raised bottom.

I thought of how you forcibly had unzipped my dress the last time pulling the hem up and over my panties while forcing my to lay my upper torso across your desk. How it felt when the first smack of your metal ruler landed across my barely covered backside. You may have heard me let out a little moan as I recalled you pushing your hard erection into my nylon covered cheeks as if to impale me on your excitement. I wondered as I leant over you if you were having the same memories as I when I felt your hand graze the bare skin just below my panty line.

My lower lips were engorged just as I imagined your penis to be and the nylon crotch of my ivory panties was starting to soak through. I felt your fingers linger between my legs as I poured you another cup of sake. You now knew that I was wet as I continued to watch your wet spot continue to expand.

It definitely was time for the lunch that Rita and I had planned for you.

"I have to go, but will see you in a very short while," I said as I backed my way out of the room feeling your hand slide up from my crotch, up and over my cheeks, then taking a hold of the hem of my tunic causing it to raise all of the way up my back. My nipples ached with excitement and arousal and it took all of my will power to leave the room. But I had plans.

Rita met me with a large tray of assorted sushi and we quietly set up in the teahouse right next to yours. After we had closed the doors, I stripped off my tunic and lay down on my back on the table with my legs slightly apart and my arms at my side. Rita then took the sushi and delicately arranged it all over my body with ginger layered across my nipples and strips of yellow fin tuna placed on the ivory nylon fabric of my string bikini's to mimic a woman's vagina with a sprig of watercress to act as my female nub. Soy sauce was poured into my navel as I could barely control my reaction to the cold liquid on my enflamed skin. The chopsticks were placed between my lips as if my face were a holder. She obviously had done this before as I was made to look like the most erotic presentation of sushi ever created.

She then left to get you as I lay there as still as I could to not disturb her fabulous work. Every sexual part of me throbbed in anticipation. My head faced the doors so I could only hear them open trying to look upward to catch your reaction.

Your little gasp of surprise was perfect and just the thing that I wanted to hear. 

As Rita left I heard her say, "Please to remove your clothes as well, Professor." I never asked her to tell you this, but just like the hostess, she seemed to be able to read my deepest desires and wishes.

Once the doors closed, I watched you remain standing while unbuttoning your navy pin striped shirt, slipping it off of your shoulders and down your arms. Then I watched you undo your belt, unclasp the clasp, and unzip your zipper. My eyes got large and my breath quickened despite the chop sticks still lying between my lips as I anticipated your imminent unveiling. Down went your pants as your very prominent erection quivered sticking straight up in the air and fully out of the tiniest panties I had ever seen as they only contained your cleanly shaven and very smooth male orbs. I couldn't keep myself from smiling at such an intoxicating and sexy sight.

When you situated yourself on the pillow, I could still see the swollen head of your penis sticking well above the table. The tip was oozing and glistening in what I assumed was your reaction to my special lunch. I couldn't wait for you to sample my delights.

With neither of us expecting it, Rita came back into the teahouse with fresh pitchers of sake and tea and served you as I had earlier, although I did notice that she didn't almost lay herself across your lap as I had done. She did however take long looks at your arousal as it continued to stand at attention. I was only envious of her, as I would have liked to have the same view of you as she had.

It was so erotic to be lying with just my sheer white panties on layered with your lunch and out of the corner of my eye I could see your swollen head poking just above the table edge. I wanted you to "Take the damn chopsticks out of my mouth" so I could turn my head to see you better. It wasn't fair that Rita was getting the best view.

Anyway, after she performed her tea and sake service, she again left and you finally took the chopsticks out of my mouth. I had been told beforehand that I had to just lie there without saying a word until you were finished. You must have realized this as you started to talk to me about the science of chemistry as if giving a class lecture while your chopsticks went for the yellow fin tuna covering my soddened panties. You picked a piece up, letting it soak in the soy sauce sitting perfectly in the hollow of my navel, then placed it in your mouth and while chewing began to use the chopsticks to rub against my equally swollen kitty. The combination of watching your leaning tower of penis ooze liquid and having my kitty stroked by your chopsticks brought out a most unexpected moan of pure unadulterated sexual delight from my open mouth. My entire body arched in reaction to your chopstick dexterity and I was finding it virtually impossible to remain still.

When you leaned over me to lick the leaves of ginger placed directly on my nipples the erotic electricity that ran through me was incredible.

With every piece of sushi, you would repeat your pattern of manipulating my lower lips with the smooth and supple chopsticks and then lick the ginger on my aching nipples. I was on the edge begging for release, but your expert tactics kept me from orgasming. I hated you and desired you all at the same time. It was excruciating to be so aroused without any opportunity to satisfy my needs.

The fourth time that you leaned over me to taste my ginger, I couldn't help but to extend my hand and take a hold of your quivering penis giving it a good squeeze. I loved how its warmth spread through my palm and how it stuck completely out of your tiny white panties. This time is was your turn to let out a loud moan.

I reluctantly let go allowing you to resume your position on the pillow.

When the sushi was gone along with the ginger and soy sauce, you again surprised me with your eroticism.

You began to pour tiny mouthfuls of sake into the hollow of my navel and then suck it out with your lips leaving little round pucker marks on my lower stomach. When you poured the sake on my lower abdomen letting it run down the front of my sheer panties and between my legs, I knew what was coming next i.e. other than myself.

You licked me from my navel to the top of my string bikini panties and then started to suck the liquid from the ivory nylon material until your face and lips were on my crotch. You gave my swollen lips a little bite, that sent my nervous system into overdrive and then you found my swollen kernel with your tongue. It was essentially over but for the shouting, which I seemed to perform quite admirably, as I went into the most delectable series of convulsions and spasms. My legs easily parted to allow you access to any and every intimate part of me and I orgasmed, over and over again.

God, it was so, so fabulous.

As I lay there thoroughly exhausted, you stood up and reminded me, "Wasn't the payoff of our bet to watch me masturbate?"

I could only moan in agreement.

Then I watched you start to stroke your dripping pole of flesh as you stood over me putting my entire body in the direct line of fire or should I say splash.

You reached down into the pocket of your coat, taking out the red silk panties that you had relieved me of when I was spanked in your office, and placed them over the oozing head of your swollen hose. My silk panties had the honor of rubbing your arousal up and down and then over the tip until you had reached the point of no return. With a loud guttural groan that easily match my own earlier exclamations of orgasm, you arched your body and I watched a long rope of white goo fill the air above me before decorating my bare face, breasts, stomach and legs with your warm ejaculation. Another and another splashed down on my bare skin. Whatever landed on or near my mouth I quickly tasted with my tongue as it darted to and fro seeking your liquid refreshment.

My one hand was between my legs bringing me quickly to my next orgasm as you continued to squirt your hot excitement all over me. 

I had been in one of my moods all day but never ever imagined that this would be the result. I was in erotic heaven.

Finally when we were both done and I realized that my zip lock bags with the wet washcloths were still with my clothes in the employee's dressing area, Rita came to our rescue. She appeared with large towels dripping of warm soapy water along with a set of dry ones and proceeded to clean me off.

I continued to lie on the table top and let her do her work, which you most certainly enjoyed as I saw another rising of your squirt gun while Rita attended to me.

Rita let me clean you off which was my absolute pleasure.

I first licked any of your residues from the silk material of my red panties and then wrapped your newly forming semi-erection inside a wet towel. I got you all nice and clean while making sure that my still very erect nipples frequently grazed your chest. Your bare skin against mine felt fantastic. Then with some difficulty I tucked your penis back inside its white nylon panty wrapping and gave you a big hug pushing as much of my bare skin against yours as was physically possible. The head of your penis pushing into my lower abdomen made me want to have you splash your semen all over me again, but sad to say our lunch was over and we both needed to return to work.

As a bit of a prologue, I am now the "sushi girl" on Saturday nights at The Teahouse. I wear a tiny flesh colored thong and pair of pasties. The customers can order me 'sunny side up', or 'over easy'. I think that you can figure out the difference. Godzilla, who we affectionately call our bouncer, is always in attendance to keep the meal from turning into anything that it shouldn't and I am earning $500 to $1,000 in tips in one night.

Also, every once in a while I am able to work the dinner hour during the week as a Geisha in training. The tips are pretty good for me as well and get to act out as much as I want to as no one ever recognizes me underneath the white makeup. I have served many a co-worker and neighbor without them ever knowing that it is my ass that they as staring at as I serve them dinner. 

What I love is all of the attention that I receive from the customers and by pretending to be a Geisha, I am totally submissive to their needs......within reason. It perfectly fits my own needs as well.

Now I just need to get past my date with Mr. Lawrence.



The Panty Perils of Me 27





OK, I can get back to Mr. Lawrence now that I have brought you up to date on Professor Eric.

Mr. Lawrence had asked me to accompany him to a theme party at his racquet club. He told that the theme of the party at his club was "Rock of Ages"; the musical based upon the late 80's and early 90's style of dress and music.

I grew up in the 80's and 90's when pants were tight, skirts and shorts were short, and bras and panties came in all colors and patterns; a time when I had awakened sexually; seen my first erection; gave my first hand job; and swallowed my first mouthful of spunk.

It brought back so many memories of my first times causing mini convulsions to begin in that sensitive area between my legs.

I couldn't wait to get out and find my 'Rock and Roll' outfit.

I drove to a store just off of the University where most everyone went for their Halloween costumes as it carried clothes or facsimiles of clothes from the 50's through the 90's.

I immediately looked for a black denim micro mini as it was my secret uniform on weekends. You know what I mean.

I would leave my house in jeans with my mini tucked away inside my shoulder bag. Once my girlfriends and I were a few blocks away from the house, we would pull the car over and change into our "Hey guys, look at us" outfits.

As I recalled my younger years, I continued to look through the skirts trying to locate one that would duplicate my wardrobe of 20 years ago.

When I found one in my size, I perused the blouses with shoulder pads and found one that was pure 90's. It was a blue blouse that buttoned up the front with a Native American print and huge shoulder pads.

Two items down, one to go.

I then went through the shoes and found the perfect pair of black suede boots that covered my ankles and had a black leather piece of trim around the top with 3 inch heels.

I took everything into the dressing room and tried on the blouse and skirt. The blouse was perfect as the shoulder pads made it look square on my body and the tails barely reached to my waist.

I was 19 years old again.

It was exactly what I used to wear on Friday and Saturday nights after I had graduated and started going to clubs and parties.

Now it was time to put on the black denim mini.

It looked short on the hanger. I mean, very short.

I took it off of the hanger, stepped into it and pulled it up my legs. The hem just kept going higher and higher as I pulled.

It sat perfectly on my hips just like I used to wear them, and the short length of my blouse left a space of bare skin where the waistband of the skirt and the tails of my blouse ended.

I then looked in the mirror and saw my legs exposed to the top of my thighs. OMG!!

I reached my arms high over my head, and there was my nylon covered crotch staring back at me.

I turned around and leaned forward as if to pick something up from the seat in the dressing room. Yep! My panties were on display in the back as well.

It is such a shock to put on a skirt that you commonly wore while in your 20's to realize how much of yourself used to show.

I can't even imagine how I did anything as the slightest movement of my arms brought the hem up to my crotch.

No wonder I attracted so much attention.

This skirt was exactly the length and style that I wore in my late teens and early 20's, but I am now in my forties.

Purposely showing so much skin off to Mr. Lawrence or anyone else just didn't seem the right thing to do.

So why am I starting to feel aroused just thinking about it.

Ever since this whole chain of panty perils began I have allowed my deepest desires and fantasies to take precedent in my decision making.

I need to start acting more responsible.

I gathered up my clothes and boots and walked back to the mini skirts. As I looked through all of the skirts sliding one hanger after another on the rack, I felt my body reacting to the reflection of myself in the dressing room mirror.

It was flooding my mind with all of the memories of my younger years.

I loved to tease and my array of short, short skirts with eye catching colors worn underneath became my weapon.

After all this was only for one night. 

Without even realizing it I found myself at the cash register sliding my credit card, as the blue blouse, black suede boots, and black denim micro mini were being put into a bag.

As I started my trek home the sense of deja vu became even stronger.

I started to remember the first pair of panties that I had purchased for myself with my own money.

My sexual awakening was accompanied by a desire to wear women panties, not little girl ones. The days of cotton bikinis with kittens or rainbows printed on them had drawn to a close.

I wanted something much sexier underneath my school uniform and mini skirts.

I went by myself to the mall and found three pair of matching string bikini panties in the thinnest nylon fabric. The string was literally a string as it was a nylon covered string of stretchy material.

Just picking a pair up from the display table was a sensual delight as they were made from a mere whisper of fabric. The overhead lighting in the store caused the fabric to be almost transparent as I could see my fingers through the material.

Just imagining wearing something so light and thin caused my lower lips to swell.

The colors were red, white and blue, and I purchased all three.

Once I got home I closed the door to my bedroom trying one of the pair on. I was too intimidated to try them on at the store as I could only imagine the sales woman thinking, "slut" as I showed her my selection and headed into the dressing rooms.

I couldn't believe how tiny they were as the little triangle in front barely covered my pubis.

The amount of skin that was uncovered between my navel and the top of my panties was quite a bit more than I was used to.

The string sides cut ever so slightly into my hips stretching the thin fabric so it fit snugly across my bottom barely covering my 19 year old cheeks.

Once I was done trying on all three I quickly stuffed them in the very bottom of my underwear drawer knowing that my days of having my mother wash my clothes were over. 

As I recalled how I felt whenever I wore them, I realized this was when my "moods" began. I would always feel super sexy, along with very sexually charged.

Is it just possible that my series of panty perils is my own karma asserting itself for being such a tease when I was younger? 

Remembering all of this in such vivid detail was a bit overwhelming. I hadn't really felt so sexually alive or desirable since my children were born.

My inner wanton sex goddess had been dormant until the morning that my skirt tore off at the playground, thus beginning this series of adventures. (Please read The Panty Perils of Me 1)

There is no doubt that my series of panty perils had brought the 19 year old me out of hibernation.

No wonder my "moods" were so frequent now.

As I sat in my car remembering my first 'sexy' panties, I knew that I needed to find a pair just like them.

And I knew just the place to look.

My plan to start behaving responsibly hadn't survived for longer than 20 minutes.

I drove to a small lingerie boutique that I frequented regularly. In fact, I thought that I should bring Professor Eric here as I walked in the door.

Right on the first display table was a royal blue pair of string bikini panties.

Does karma play a role in lingerie as well?

I went right to them and held them up. They were perfect. The string sides were literally stretchy strings covered in blue nylon. They connected a small triangle of blue nylon that would barely cover my trimmed mound with a little larger triangle of blue nylon that would also barely cover my derriere.

And just like my original pair there was no additional lining in the crotch, allowing my intimate area to essentially be front and center to all tactile sensations.

When I was 19 and discovered my red, white, and blue pair, I reveled in how thin the nylon fabric was. My kernel would react to everything that I pushed my crotch against.

Even if I was wearing jeans, I could get off by humping a table edge.

In high school I would purposely lean against a desk pushing my pubis into the edge just to feel the sensations invade my awakening kitty.

These memories just kept coming and my need to act out was coming with them.

Acting responsibly was already in the past tense as I held the delicate two triangle creation in my hand.

I took the size small, waving to the owner as I walked to the dressing room.

Off came everything that I had on below my waist and I stepped into this tiny blue nylon creation.

Yes, I know that I should be trying on panties over my panties, but just like when I was 19, I needed to feel the barely there fabric against my skin.

I just knew that they would fit.

As I pulled the strings up to about 4 inches below my hip bones, I let out a long exhale of pure satisfaction.

They were perfect. I lightly rubbed two fingers across my lower lips and just as it had so many years ago, my entire body came alive.

Looking in the mirror, I was no longer 42 years old, but 19 again wearing my favorite pair of panties underneath an extremely short mini skirt.

There was no doubt that I wanted to feel sexy and vibrant again.

Everything about this party was going to test my limits for proper conduct and decorum. Hell, why am I kidding myself?

The wanton 19 year old sex goddess inside of me had been released from bondage and now she wanted to play.

I kept the panties on, handing the price tag to my friend, telling her to order every color in my size.

All of the way home, my entire body pulsed with sexual energy.

I only had 24 hours before the party to calm down and hoped that it would be enough time. 

Deep down I wanted to feel this way for the rest of my life.

The Party

Friday night arrived. I had on my 90's outfit and the need to tease.

Harold (Mr. Lawrence) drove into my driveway and I quickly exited my house so none of my neighbors would notice my attire or escort for the evening.

I opened the door and slid into the seat. If I hadn't known already, the look on Harold's face told me all that I needed to know as to how short my skirt was.

I remembered the same look when I was similarly dressed so many years ago.

Harold was in a black shirt and very tight black jeans that displayed his physical reaction to my short skirt quite effectively.

Another sight that I was used to seeing long ago.

We drove to the club with Harold taking every opportunity to look over at my legs as my skirt extended no more than a couple of inches past my crotch.

I was getting wet just from the visual attention that he was giving me.

This evening I may have had a 40 year old body, but my mind was only 19 and it wanted to play.

We pulled into the driveway in front of the clubhouse and a valet opened my door. There was no way for me to not give him a full view of my blue nylon covered crotch so I didn't even bother to be discreet.

As I slid my right leg out of the door, my skirt slid up the remaining two inches and I could feel the night air say hello to my kitty.

I wanted to squeeze my thighs together and rub them up and down, but stopped myself.

It was a little early in the evening to be masturbating particularly in front of such a young man.

I looked into the valet's eyes as his eyes looked down at my crotch and enjoyed watching his lips curl up in a smug look of satisfaction.

He had no idea that I was letting him see up my skirt on purpose.

As I slid out of the seat my royal blue crotch came fully into view and the valet's jaw dropped.

I can only imagine what stories he would be sharing with his friends regarding my crotch.

I loved to tease when I was young, and had no idea how much more exciting it was at 42.

Now I was really getting wet.

Any sense of being prim and proper had been left behind in the lingerie store's dressing room. 

Harold came around and joined me oblivious to the valet's voyeur instincts and escorted me into the club.

The party room was made out to look like a 90's rock club with a bar on one end and a deejay and his music equipment on the other.

Harold introduced me around to his various clients and other members of the club. It was quite amusing to see so many couples in their 40's and 50's dressed to look like aging rock stars and groupies.

I was one of the few women that had opted to wear a micro mini as most had on skin tight black,white, or red lycra pants. All with coordinating ankle boots similar to mine.

Hair was big and teased and most of the men were wearing wigs that might have been borrowed from their wives, but they served the purpose.

It was fun to see the upper class of the city out to have some fun.

The evening went very well and I was probably asked to dance by most every man in the room. The music along with two hands clutching my bottom brought back more memories of my early 20's.

By the end of the evening the front hem of my skirt had a permanent V-shaped fold in it as so many of my dance partners had ground their erections into me.

It didn't seem to matter whether the music was fast or slow as virtually all of us women with decent figures were the recipients of groping hands and grinding penises.

I remember my school dances to be very similar until the nuns forced all of us young couples to separate.

Many of the men remembered me from the charity auction and asked me how my day of service had gone with Mr. Abromsky.

I responded as vaguely as possible although I am sure that they would have enjoyed my story of being the center of a circle jerk.

Other than the aforementioned groping and grinding, Harold was the perfect gentlemen for the evening. After all it wasn't like he was the only one doing it.

And if truth be told, I enjoyed the attention that I was receiving and how it made me feel i.e. just like when I was 19.

An elderly and very distinguished gentlemen stood off to the side of the room for most of the evening staring at me. It wasn't the kind of stare that would make you uncomfortable. It felt more like a compliment.

I gave him a smile and he nodded at me.

He wasn't dressed for the party as he was wearing a beautifully tailored deep blue check patterned dress shirt and a pair of black silk trousers.

I found myself looking at him just as much as he was looking at me.

I liked everything about him and didn't even know him.

I would guess that he was in his early 60's, tall and lean with thinning gray hair. His face had a very sharp jaw line along with two gorgeous hazel eyes that made my stomach quiver as well as another part of my anatomy.

He was very comfortable being the only one in the room without a costume and I could tell that all of the other members respected him as they all took the time to say 'hello.'

After what seemed forever, Harold finally took me over to him and introduced me. His last name was Van der Waal and he was the founding member of the club.

I was comfortable with him immediately and hoped that our paths would cross again very soon.

I didn't realize at the time that they would cross later in the same evening.

By the time the evening ended I was fully in my mood.

The combination of my outfit, my underwear, the music, and the memories of my younger years all served to create the perfect formula for acting out.

Every time I visited the bathroom, the visage of a 42 year old woman looked back at me in the mirror, but all I saw was a 19 year old looking to have some fun.

We left the club and the same valet brought our car to us making sure to get out of the driver's seat and around to the passenger side before I opened the door for myself.

It seems that one good view up my skirt deserved another, so as before my blue nylon covered crotch was front and center and with the newly added V-shaped fold in the front of my denim skirt he saw all of the way to the top elastic.

It made me feel so deliciously naughty to let him stare up my skirt.

I even parted my legs just enough to show him my developing camel toe.

I was in full tease mode.

The vibrations were intensifying and I was enjoying every shake, rattle, and roll.

I should have asked Harold to take me home, but I was beyond playing it safe. 

I settled into the front seat applying my seatbelt, which only served to exaggerate the front fold in my skirt.

Harold noticed my uncovered crotch the moment he climbed into the driver's seat. His eyes told me, although his smile told me much more.

He was aching for some alone time with me and with the mood that I was in I was willing to play.

After all, he had invited me to one of the most fun evenings that I had experienced in a long time and had introduced me to Mr. Van der Waal, who I couldn't stop thinking about.

Doesn't all of that deserve a little play time?

We drove to a nearby park, which normally would have caused me some anxiety, but not on this particular night.

I was so completely lost in my memories, that it only seemed natural to find a secluded parking lot in order to thank my date for the wonderful evening.

With Harold's hand on my upper thigh, I leaned over and placed my own hand directly on the tent formed in the front of his pants.

He slid his hand up my bare leg towards the crotch of my panties as I undid his belt and unzipped his pants.

While he continued to grope between my parted legs, causing my lower lips to start glistening, I pulled his pants down his legs to see the top three inches of his erection sticking out of a pair of my lilac panties. The very same pair that I had given to his son, Arnold, after our first or was it our second date.

Well, well, like father like son, I thought to myself, bringing me back to my current age.

It was akin to having a bucket of ice cold water thrown in my face as well as between my legs. But I couldn't help but stare at Harold's full erection barely encased in my lilac panties.

It was so weird and sexy all at the same time.

Yes, I loved to have his son Arnold wearing my panties, but this was a grown man, not a young, impressionable 19 year old.

His testicles and lower shaft completely filled the front and could be seen quite clearly as the thin nylon material hugged every bulge.

It wasn't long before the cold water effect vanished as I continued to stare between his legs and I found my hand rubbing the front of my panties i.e. the ones currently being worn by Mr. Lawrence, eliciting a very satisfied and sensual moan from his lips.

I realized right then and there that I really like to see my panties being worn by a man, or at least the two men from the same family.

I closed my hand around his lower shaft wrapping the thin nylon material around his erection and began to slide it up and own.

I was using the material of my panties to get him off.

Harold moved his hand away from my crotch using the other one to locate the automatic seat control.

He tilted the back of his seat down so his pelvis was now front and center.

I continued stroking him through the slippery nylon material watching the tip of his penis ooze almost continuously.

My panties were so small on him and yet they fit perfectly.

It was so odd for me to see a pair of my panties on my date and at the same time so arousing.

Along with everything else, how could I not reward him for providing me with such an unusual and sexy vision?

After all it's just a hand job right? 

I had buried his son's face in my crotch and used it to masturbate.( see The Panty Perils of Me 14), so what's the big deal about giving Dad a hand job.




The Panty Perils of Me 27



My mind was getting over active with thoughts and ideas and if I let it continue I would have been able to justify anything.

I stopped myself so I could concentrate on the matter at hand or should I say the erection in my hand?

Repositioning myself I knelt on the passenger seat. Now I could completely focus on the very sexy sight in front of me.

I have always loved to see a man squirt. 

Well, it was time to have Harold squirt for me.

Another father/son comparison for my memoirs.

Harold started to move his pelvis in the opposite direction of my manual ministrations until he was perfectly in sync with my hand movements.

But then, catching me completely by surprise, he grabbed the back of my head forcing my face right into his groin smearing my lips and cheek with his issuing goo.

I know how much most men enjoy having a woman's lips wrapped around their pleasure pole, but I still wasn't expecting to find Mr. Lawrence's penis between mine.

I can't quite explain why I opened my mouth letting his oozing erection slide into it, but I did.

I guess the nuns were right about me being a 'loose girl' after all.

With one hand now firmly in place on the back of my head, he used his free hand to literally tear the hem of my micro mini up and over my protruding bottom.

Not the easiest feat as I was kneeling on the seat next to him bent over with my head in his lap, which stretched the material of my skirt around my upper thighs and butt.

I guess that he really wanted to see my panties.

As the fabric of my skirt slid up and over my nylon clad bottom I felt the cool night air caress my swollen and moistening lower lips that were extruding from between my legs

Harold slid his fingers across my cheeks easily locating my camel toe and began to massage my puckering lips. 

In response to his groping fingers I began to move my head as far down as I could until the head of his penis would hit the back of my throat and then bring it all the way back up. With my pursed lips around his swollen tip I used my tongue to lick away the goo eliciting a little "huh" from his lips.

At the same time I would emit a little "ach" as my gag reflex would react to the feel of his penis against the very back of my throat.

If anyone had heard us, we were a symphony of "Huh, Ach, Huh, Ach". 

Knowing that he no longer needed to physically encourage my oral efforts on his penis, Harold used both hands to pull my skirt completely up my lower torso almost turning it inside out around my waist.

And as you know by now, I hate having men stare at my panties especially when I have them on.

I was beyond aroused. 

Now that he had me uncovered to my string bikini panties from the waist down and my mouth affixed to his firm flesh, it wasn't long before his entire body tensed and a loud "Yesss" exited his mouth.

I knew full well what usually followed a loud exclamation of "Yesss" as I wasn't an amateur at oral sex.

The first spasm of ejaculation filled my mouth.

So much for watching him squirt, but I certainly was getting a taste.

As one liquid spasm after another threatened to overflow from my mouth, I continued to suck and swallow until nothing but a dribble was issuing from his tiny oriface.

My kitty wanted to be stroked, but it seems that it was to remain neglected unless I took care of it myself. 

Harold was the one to raise my head from his softening penis allowing me to sit back on my heels still with my skirt well above my waist.

"God, that was the best ever," he said to me and I couldn't help but smile.

When he added, "You are such an incredible woman," it erased any guilty feelings that would regularly accompany this latest performance with fellow married person.

Maybe I was getting past feeling guilty about my sexual urges and moods.

I still was feeling very sexy and alive. My body was tingling in anticipation of something more.

When Harold started to drive me home I blurted out, "Let's go back to your club," with a sly grin on my face.

I have no idea why it was so important for me to go back to the club, but I was listening to my over aroused body and it wanted to go back to the club.

The Club

So back to the club we went. 

Everyone was gone for the night and the lights were out.

I opened my door and got out feeling the cool night air on my exposed skin. Pulling the hem of my skirt back down to its proper position, I reached behind my back undoing the button and zipper, and let it side down and stepped out of it.

The thought of walking around an exclusive club wearing nothing below my waist other than my string panties was intoxicating to me.

If it had been just a little warmer, I would have removed my blouse as well.

Harold followed me with a look of consternation on his face. He wasn't very comfortable being with a half dressed woman strolling about his Club, particularly one who wasn't his wife.

I on the other hand was fully in one of my moods.

We walked around to the back of the club where the tennis courts were located.

Harold nervously whispered, "I think we better go."

I didn't want to listen as I had an orgasm to attend to.

I sauntered over to the gate in the chain link fence walking inside to the court. Taking a hold of the chain link fence while looking directly at Harold who was standing on the other side I pushed my crotch up against the metal links.

I loved how the thin nylon fabric allowed me to feel everything as I rubbed myself between the links.

My lower lips had parted quite a while ago letting my female kernel protrude slightly from its aperture.

I found that I was able to rub the very tip against the metal links of the fence sending the most exquisite sensations throughout my entire body.

Harold's nervousness was forgotten as he watched me hump the fence. The look in his eyes as he stared at my nylon cloaked pubis rubbing between the links aroused me even further.

Despite his desire to leave he couldn't take his eyes off of me.

I wanted to put on a show that he would remember for a very, very long time.

It is funny how not so long ago the thought of masturbating while someone watched me would make me break out in a cold sweat. Now the sweat was very warm and located right between my legs. 

But I required a more effective perch to really get my blood flowing.

I looked around and spied the short metal post that held the tennis net up and walked over to it wiggling my bottom and swinging my hips. 

I took a hold of the top of the metal post while doing my best impression of a pole dancer; squatting down, spreading my knees wide apart, and leaning way back so the very center of my crotch was right up against the metal post.

It was nice and smooth which along with my lubricated panties made my sliding movement quite effective.

I was now lost in my need to orgasm becoming oblivious to Harold as well as anyone else that might have been watching as this latest technique was bringing me very close to the edge.

Each time that I was on the precipice of orgasm, I would pull my entire body into the pole pressing my lower lips and protruding kernel firmly against the metal.

The cold metal pressing against my intimate spot effectively shut my impending orgasm down allowing me to continue in my pre-orgasmic state.

I was so close, but didn't want my current condition to end. It felt so good to be so sexually charged and uninhibited.

I wanted to stay in this state of orgasmic suspense for as long as I could.

I found myself wishing that the nuns from my high school could have been here to witness how I had turned out.

The feeling of being so scandalous and sexually out of control was exactly what I was craving.

It had begun with my little walk down memory lane and now was seeking new memories to feed my fantasies.

Knowing that the longer I delayed my orgasm, the more intense it would be, served as my compass and now the needle was pointing towards the tennis net itself.

I let go of the post intending to straddle the tennis net. Swinging a leg up and over the net allowed the taut fabric to press against my soaked crotch.

Slowly sliding along the net only served to increase my state of sexual arousal and abandonment.

I walked the entire length of the net making sure that its hard surface was pressed directly against my over sensitive nub.

Just as I was right on the cusp of a very over due release of all my pent up sexual energy and without any warning, a tennis ball smacked me across my barely covered bottom.

It turned out that not everyone had gone home as I had thought.

The same distinguished gentlemen, Mr. Van der Waal, that had spent most of the evening watching me from the corner of the room had commandeered the ball machine expertly aiming it at my butt.

It wasn't set very high provided a rather erotic stinging feeling on my nylon covered cheek.

I had attracted a playmate to my tennis court provocation.

I should have been alarmed or at least embarrassed, but I was quite a few miles down the road from feeling self-conscious.

Besides, as I previously have stated, I liked the look of this older man from the moment that I first noticed him.

There was something about him that gave me a sense of sexual abandonment, which was certainly my current craving. 

I offered him my best version of an enticing smile, again lifting my leg up over the net. Walking back to the post, I bent my upper body forward, providing my new provocateur a more tempting target.

Another ball smacked against my other cheek sending a delicious vibration to that sensitive spot between my legs.

This was exactly what I had been searching for all night i.e an experience that was sensually kinky.

Giving Mr. Lawrence a blow job with my mini pulled up to my waist allowed me to relive a period of my younger years that I often wished was still present.

However, being molested by a ball machine aimed by a distinguished looking stranger put much more of an adult spin on the evening's activities.

I watched over my shoulder as the next series of well aimed balls ricocheted off my bottom bringing with them more exquisite tingling between my legs.

My attacker knew that I was I enjoying his expertise, and by the size of the pole sticking straight out from the front of his beautifully draped trousers I could tell that he was enjoying me as his target.

I held up one hand to have him cease his assault and slowly walked back to the chain link fence putting a very exaggerated swing in my hips.

I could feel his eyes on my barely covered cheeks as I strolled back over to the fence. It made me excited to know that this obviously successful man was interested in me.

I took a hold of the fence with both of my hands, giving a little shake with my cheeks as my signal to start shooting again, although my mind was focused on a different kind of shooting.

Smack, smack, smack went the tennis balls across my cheeks pushing my groin into the chain link fence sending delectable sensations right to the tip of my female nub.

Each ball that bounced off my bottom brought me closer and closer to orgasm. 

My inner thighs were dripping in response to everything that had occurred and was occurring on this tennis court. 

The fact that I was getting off at having tennis balls aimed at my panty covered bottom was more than strange.

But think about it a bit. I had a phallic shaped cannon shooting missiles at my almost naked body. 

It was the perfect symbolistic representation of being ejaculated on. At least I thought so. And my body was reacting to it.

After all don't they say that the most effective sexual weapon is the human brain.

I only wonder what Freud would have thought about it.

I again stuck my hand out and cautiously turned around with my mound and crotch front and center.

His aim was incredible as the next ball hit me right up against my swollen and open lips vibrating my nub into a minor spasm.

It was more of a splat than a smack as my entire intimate area was drooling sex.

It was so unexpected that I grabbed myself between my legs letting out a little squeal of "Ouch."

I slid down the fence still gripping my crotch to find myself sitting on the cool surface of the tennis court with my legs splayed out in front of me.

The cool air on my sodden crotch felt good.

I looked for Harold, but it seems that when the latest participant came along, Harold had vacated the premises.

So Mr. Lawrence had abandoned me again, only this time he had gotten what he wanted from me. And I have to admit that I enjoyed every swallow.

Mr. Van der Waal approached me as I sat on the ground minus my skirt displaying a dark blue stain across the crotch of my panties.

His face was filled with concern for my crotch causing me to giggle out loud.

"I am quite all right, Mr. Van der Waal," I said, "I just wasn't expecting such a perfectly aimed shot to my intimate area."

I really enjoyed everything about him.

He responded, "Ms. Harley, I am so very sorry for the errant tennis ball. I had no idea that you were going to turn around. I must say that despite this final mishap, you have provided me the most interesting and erotic evening that I have had in years. I have watched you when you have been a guest of the Club, and you have the same spark in your eyes that my wife had when she was alive."

"I am so sorry for your loss, but if you wouldn't mind telling me, what spark is that?" I replied.

"You have a sense of adventure combined with a lack of inhibition that sets you apart. I was hoping to connect with you sometime soon. This evening confirmed my intuition about you."

As we talked he told me about his late wife who had passed away 5 years previously.

He had grown a company from the ground up and then sold it making him very wealthy.

With time on his hands along with a passion for all racquet sports, he founded an exclusive club for exclusive members.

These members were much like him; they enjoyed racquet sports as well as women or men that had that spark in their eyes.

The entire time that we conversed I remained seated on the ground perfectly comfortable to be sitting in front of him in my blue blouse and panties.

I really liked him; a lot.

He finally reached down, taking my hand pulling me up from the ground. 

As I tried to get my feet under me, I was still a little dizzy from being on the edge of orgasm for so long that I stumbled against him feeling his erection directly against my stomach.

It gave me a very naughty idea.

I started by telling him about the party and how much it brought back memories of my late teens and early 20's.

I explained my outfit as it was exactly what I used to wear when I was young and discovering my sexual side, right down to my panties.

I lifted my blouse to give him an unobstructed look at my teeny royal blue string bikini panties performing a little pirouette so he saw me front and back.

I was so incredibly comfortable around him.

When I turned back around, his smile told me that he liked me as well, although there was something else about it that made me quiver.

It wasn't a nervous quiver, but more of a "What else is going on in that kinky little mind of yours?" quiver.

I ignored it and ant on to share my story of the first time that I performed a hand job on my boyfriend, although it really wasn't a hand job as it involved more of my abdomen and belly button than my hand.

I reached for the front of Mr. Van der Waal's trousers and undid his zipper explaining how I had stood in front of my boyfriend with nothing on but my blouse and the same style of panties that I had on now except that they were red.

Reaching inside his open fly I discovered that he was wearing an exquisite pair of black bikini briefs in a very soft and thin silk fabric.

Thinking that I might have discovered my second panty wearing male of the evening I reached further inside the opening and explored the fabric and fit.

It was a pure pleasure to investigate his erection while it was encased in such a fine fabric, and since there definitely was a pouch for his goodies, I knew that he wasn't wearing panties.

Keeping my hand inside his trousers while gripping his erection through the silk fabric, I told him that my boyfriend also wore bikini briefs, which excited me to no end and still did.

He let me continue my story and demonstration without any interruption. What a surprise!

I unbuttoned the front of my blouse while keeping my other hand busy stroking his throbbing flesh telling him how I had pulled my boyfriend's erection out and over the top of his bikini briefs and then through the opening in his trousers.

Out came Mr. Van der Waal's erection into the cool star lit night glistening with its own kind of dew.

I then began to rub his firm oozing flesh across my stomach making sure that the very sensitive opening in the ridge of the head was placed directly on my navel.

Just as I had done so many years ago, I rubbed his erection across my stomach letting his goo create a slick enough surface on my skin to provide just the right amount of friction.

Mr. Van der Waal's eyes rolled back into his head and he began to let out a most delectable moan.

I pushed the head of his totem of flesh firmly against my skin and began to stroke his shaft from top to bottom.

My other hand reached under the crotch of his silk trousers and I began to massage his scrotum as well.

It wasn't long before his body arched back pushing his erection deeper into my stomach and the first spurt of white, sticky goo gushed forth splashing across my skin.

I pushed two of my fingers against his scrotum while sliding my other hand to the base of his penis issuing another stream of hot liquid across my stomach.

It was virtually identical to how I remembered it happening so many years ago that I completely lost the fact that I was performing this particular activity on a complete stranger; a man that I had only met for the first time a few hours ago.

I found myself encouraging him by saying, "That's it honey, squirt on me." I pointed his ejaculating penis at my tiny breasts letting his warm spunk splash across my very erect nipples.

Yes, I wasn't wearing a bra as I couldn't find one that went with my panties.

It seems like he hadn't ejaculated in quite a while as he continued to erectile vomit all over my exposed abdomen and breasts.

I literally milked him until my front torso was dripping in creme.

I guess that I was more than just a target for his tennis balls.

I certainly hadn't lost my talent for hand jobs either, although I was now covered in spunk without any method of cleaning myself off.

Once Mr. Van der Waal had gotten himself put away, he led me to the rear entrance to the club and to the door of the ladies locker room.

"You should find everything that you need inside." he said holding the door open for me.

I walked inside stripping off my clothes except for my panties and walked into the shower room.

Since my panties were dripping of sexual residue I thought that they needed a good washing as well.

Each shower head had its own tiny stall for privacy with a curtain.

I slid aside the curtain to the nearest stall, turning the shower on to hot and luxuriated in the warm stream of water rinsing all of the evening's activities off my skin.

I slipped my soaked panties off and washed them with the liquid body wash found in every shower and slung them over the curtain rod to drip dry.

Then while leaning against the back wall of my stall I aimed the shower spray right between my legs so it caressed my still aching nub.

I still hadn't orgasmed and it was time.

As my moans increased their intensity I didn't realize how the sound echoed off the tile walls particularly when only one person was in the shower area.




The Panty Perils of Me 27



My crescendo of "Oh, Oh, Oh" and "Yes, Yes, Yes." resounded throughout the locker room.

I had no idea that I was being so vocal until I was startled by a particularly loud cry as it echoed back to me.

I flushed bright red absolutely sure that Mr. Van der Waal had heard every issuing orgasm as it rocked my crevice.

Trying to delay my exit and reunion with him as long as possible, I dried my panties under the hand dryer, slipping them back on and over my well washed and rinsed kernel, rebuttoned my blouse and put my boots back on.

As I exited the ladies locker room, Mr. Van der Waal was right where I had left him and by the smile on his face had definitely heard my exclamations of sexual release, although he didn't say anything.

We then walked out the front entrance where I found my skirt lying on the blacktop right where I had left it.

I picked it up, but didn't bother to put it back on.

Mr. Van der Waal led me to an old dark green Mercedes that was in mint condition. He opened the door and I slid into a soft creme colored leather passenger seat that caressed my barely covered body.

It felt so right to be wearing so little on the incredibly soft fabric.

Wearing nothing but a pair of teeny, tiny panties inside such a well preserved car seemed so deliciously decadent. 

God, I could only imagine what it would be like to drive such a nice car wearing so little.

I had to shake the image from my head as I was getting turned on all over again.

I didn't have to provide him directions as he already knew where I lived. Maybe this should have seemed creepy to me, but nothing about him seemed creepy.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect evening.

On the drive home I thought about how much Mr. Van der Waal reminded me of the Professor.

I could feel a similar but different sort of sexual energy with Mr. Van der Waal. 

As I sat next to him, my entire body pulsated with nervous anticipation; but of what.

Once we arrived at my house, I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and thanked him for the incredibly climatic evening.

He laughed knowing the full meaning of my use of words.

I exited the car and walked up my driveway still holding my skirt in my hands.

As I lay in bed thinking about the entire evening, my feeling of anticipation increased.

I have the strongest sense that I will be hearing from Mr. Van der Waal again.



The Panty Perils of Me 28





Do you remember these thoughts that I posted in my last Panty Peril?

"Wearing nothing but a pair of teeny, tiny panties inside such a well preserved car seemed so deliciously decadent. 

God, I could only imagine what it would be like to drive such a nice car wearing so little."

"Well, be careful what you wish for." as they say.

Mr. Van der Waal called be out of the blue and asked whether I would be willing to perform a huge favor for him.

"Oh, Oh" my mind immediately responded.

But being a curious sort and having thoroughly enjoyed my tennis court experience with him, I thought that I might as well listen to what he had to say.

He owned an old Oldsmobile that someone had expressed interest in buying from him as they had seen him driving it through their town.

They had written down the license number, had a friend with the DMV, and got his phone number.

Mr. Van der Waal hadn't really considered selling it as it was his first luxury car from many years ago. However the interested party had owned one years ago as well in the same color and always wanted to have another one.

He had offered Mr. Van der Waal a very good price and besides the car was just sitting in his garage gathering dust. I guess sentimental attachments only go so far.

Kind of like my resolutions to keep my clothes on.

Anyway, Mr. Van der Waal needed someone to drive the car across the state on Friday and he thought of me sitting inside in his green Mercedes wearing just a pair of royal blue string bikini panties.

I am not exactly sure how his memory of me translated to me driving a car across the state, but I didn't want to ask.

It sounded like the perfect chance to get away from everything and everyone and to have some dedicated alone time for an entire day.

Something that I really wanted right now as my personal and private relationships were becoming such a mess.

Mr. Van der Waal explained that the interested party wanted to see it before noon as he owned a trucking company and had to replace one of his drivers who was out sick for a run that same afternoon.

So there was a deadline for me as well.

The trucking company was located in the Northeast corner of the state and could be reached in just under 3 hours.

I thought that if I left by 8:00 Friday morning I would have plenty of time to take the scenic way and would easily be back before dinner.

What a perfect way to spend my day.

Despite my initial "Oh, Oh", I agreed, telling Mr. Van der Waal that I would see him Friday morning at 8:00 at his club.

He was delighted and responded that he would be in my debt "as if he wasn't already," I thought.

After all I let him bounce tennis balls off my barely covered bottom and then gave him one of my belly button hand jobs to boot.

I tell you, sometimes men just expect everything from us poor helpless ladies. 

Friday morning arrived promising the first really warm day of the year so I dressed very simply, slipping on a pair of white satin string bikini panties with a delicate row of embroidered flowers on the front waistband along with a very sexy sheer front panel.

Over it I put on a red khaki dress that zipped from the neck to the hemline. And finally I slipped my feet into a pair of my red leather high heel pumps.

I rarely wear a bra in the summer and as the day was supposed to be in the mid 70's, I thought "What the heck. Let's get the season started a little early."

I drove to the club and found Mr. Van der Waal waiting for me in the parking lot standing next to a dark green, (I think I know his favorite car color.) Oldsmobile 98 with a lighter green interior and cushioned seats that looked like velvet easy chairs.

"I can't wait to feel this luxurious fabric against my tushy." I thought to myself.

Mr. Van der Waal was elegantly dressed as seems to be his style with a white and burgundy striped dress shirt, beautifully draped silk and linen blend camel colored pants, and a coordinating sport coat.

I do like a man that knows how to dress, particularly if there attire includes bikini briefs.

He gave me some last minute instructions including a little detail on a loose fitting spark plug wire that he had never gotten around to replacing.

He told me that it shouldn't give me any problems, but just in case to just pop the hood and push the connector back in place or something like that.

I wasn't going to worry about it as it was a beautiful day for a drive and I wanted to be on my way. 

Once I had felt the warm sunshine on my legs, and then seen the plush interior of the car that I was to deliver, my little libido driven mind was made up to use the country roads for as far as I could wearing just my panties and heels.

The car had a sun roof and I wanted to feel the warm sun on as much of my bare skin as possible. 

This winter had been too long and too cold and I wanted to bask in the warmth of this beautiful day for as long as possible.

After all, very few people take the country highways anymore since the expressways are so much faster.

So what if a farmer or fed ex man sees me topless for a brief moment. I figured with the reflection of the sun bouncing off the windshield of the car, it would be very hard (should I use this word?) to see me anyway.

With Mr. Van der Waal holding my door I slid into the plush green interior of the car giving him a good look up my dress as I had unzipped the zipper to my upper thigh in order to be able to move better.

I gave him a little smile, started the car, and was on my way. 

Once I got out of town, I pulled into a small rest area. I got out of the car and unzipped my dress from top to bottom allowing it to flap open. The warm sunshine on my exposed skin was like an aphrodisiac.

Taking my dress off while reaching into the back seat, I hung it from one of the hooks directly behind me so it wouldn't block my vision.

As I stood outside the car allowing my almost naked body to soak in the warmth of the sun a sudden wave of apprehension washed over me.

I knew that if I was ever going to break any or all of my long held commitments to myself and my marriage that it would be on this day.

I was so sexually charged that my rational mind was no longer in control. What was controlling me was much more primal and erotic.

But then just as quickly as this premonition came and it was gone.

I would have easily just stood there wearing nothing but my panties and heels, however a car was approaching in the distance and I had a deadline to meet.

Slipping back onto the luxurious velvet like seats was pure heaven with a tiny bit of naughty attached.

The sun coming in through the front window and sun roof caressing my bare breasts felt incredible.

It wasn't long before I found my left hand pinching my very erect nipples as well as slowly massaging my lower abdomen.

After a little pinch on either nipple I would slide my hand down the front of my torso until my fingers were touching the very top elastic of my panties.

It was my way of teasing myself into arousal, which didn't take very long at all.

After some very successful foreplay, I slipped my fingers inside the waistband until they felt the very start of the trimmed fur of my kitty.

My body was on full alert and I wanted to keep it this way for as long as possible. and considering how I felt, that would be all day long.

I have spent the past number of months being stripped or told to strip, resulting in such confusing and contradictory feelings of humiliation and arousal.

Today I just wanted to feel aroused.

Each time a car would approach me from the opposite direction I would look directly at the driver to see if they were aware that I was driving almost naked.

The quick movement of their head in my direction informed me that they must have seen something.

Each time I could feel myself getting moist between my legs.

The entire time my right hand was firmly ensconced inside the front of my panties barely touching the top of my swelling lower lips.

After about an hour into my drive I had had enough of the teasing and decided to work on what I hoped to be many orgasms to follow.

I slipped my hand all of the way inside my panties until my fingers separated my swollen and open lips.

Sliding my index finger along the opening until it barely rubbed my female kernel, I let out a long moan of raw desire.

I adjusted my position on the seat moving my pelvis forward and upward so my exploring fingers could enter my dripping tunnel.

God, it all felt so good

I don't know exactly how I managed to continue driving as I polished my fleshy pearl until I couldn't stand it anymore.

Just as I was reaching orgasm, I large semi approached from the opposite direction.

There was no doubt that the driver could see me and my buried hand as he inadvertently steered towards the side of my car.

I quickly pulled my fingers out of my panties using both hands to steer away from him and heard a loud woosh of air blast through my open windows.

Talk about a wake up as every nerve in my body had switched from pre-climatic arousal to "Holy Sh*t" that was close.

The look on the driver's face was priceless and I used the memory of it to continue my salacious activity smiling to myself about the truck driver's reaction to my show.

It wasn't long until I was exactly at the point of orgasm that I was when the truck had approached.

I pulled the car over as quickly as possible, squeezed my legs as tightly together as I could, and let the first series of orgasmic convulsions take me over.

My eyes rolled back into my head as my entire body racked in spasms of pure pleasure.

The orgasm was absolutely incredible, but I knew that I wasn't close to finished.

Checking my side mirror, I pulled back out onto the highway and began my teasing all over again.

Over the next hour I achieved four more incredible orgasms; each one more intense than the other.

But I was getting closer to my destination and would be restricted to the expressway for the remainder of my trip.

I again found a tiny rest area to pull over to put my dress back on.

As the car came to a complete stop, I looked over my shoulder for my dress. My breath caught in my throat as complete terror overtook me.

There was no dress to be found.

I was in shock as I remembered the loud woosh of air that rocked the car when the semi barely missed hitting me.

The air pressure must have sucked my dress out the window leaving it somewhere on the highway almost 60 miles back.

I couldn't possibly go back and find it even if I had the time.

I had to meet up with Mr. Van der Waal interested party by noon and it was already 11:15. 

What was I going to do????

I felt that I had no other choice but to continue on my way. I would just stay in the car once I got there and try to conduct my business without opening the door.

I really wanted to believe that this would work, but deep down inside I knew that I was just kidding myself.

Funny how often we grasp at tiny shreds of hope just to be able to move on.

It felt so odd to realize that just a short while ago driving the country highways wearing just my panties was so extremely arousing for me. In fact I had had several orgasms to this point.

But now the thought filled me with anxiety and worry.

I was going to continue my trip and have some stranger examine the car while I was still only wearing panties.

My body started to blush in complete humiliation and embarrassment knowing that I had no options whatsoever.

I drove onto the expressway ramp trying to sit as low as possible.

For the entire time I had men pulling up along side of me and staring at my bare breasts and still erect nipples.

I wanted to disappear, but I was resolved to follow through on my commitment.

I can't tell you how many accidents I may have almost caused as a line up of cars tried to shadow me and were fighting each other for the best position to see my topless torso.

I tried to position my arms on the steering wheel to hide my tiny breasts, but it was too unnatural and eventually I had to let them relax.

Each time my breasts made there reappearance horns would honk and any and every manner of lewd suggestion and comments would be shouted in my direction.

Finally after what seemed to be an eternity, I was able to exit the expressway. The trucking company was just a few blocks from the expressway, so I was able to escape any further gawkers.

Thankfully no one followed me down the ramp.

I drove into the large parking area amid trucks and trailers. As I pulled near one of the loading docks a man approached the car.

He came to my window. I watched his eyes change completely from a casual disinterest to one of shock and pleasure.

"I had no idea that Jack (Mr. Van der Waal's first name) had sent such an exotic driver."

I wanted to explain, but how do you tell someone that you get off on sitting in luxury seats in just your panties.

I blurted out that my dress had been stolen, which doesn't make much sense, but it seemed to suffice.

"Well, why don't you climb out of the car and let me take a look at it," he continued. Although it was obvious to both of us that he meant "Take a look at me."

I replied that I would rather stay in the car.

"Jack told me that you would show me some little problem with a spark plug wire."

I tried to explain the issue through the car window, but Bob (he told me his name after staring at my sheer front crotch for what seemed to be an hour) said that Jack had assured him that I would show him.

I continued to decline until Bob told me that he had no interest in the car unless I showed him the problem.

Now I was trapped as I didn't want to let Mr. Van der Waal down and at the same time I would be standing outdoors in full daylight wearing nothing more than a pair of sheer front string bikini panties.

So tell me if you know. Why were my nipples still sticking straight out from the tips of my breasts, if I really didn't want to get out of the car?

It certainly wasn't cold.

I reached down and pulled the lever to pop the hood of the car.

Taking a very deep breath while at the same time unconsciously squeezing my legs together to further stimulate my already enlarged lower lips, I pulled on the door handle and pushed it open.

I could only imagine what a stripper must feel like when they appear on stage with 5 floodlights shining on them.

The sun was bright.....very bright.

And my pure white panties took on an almost luminescent glow as the sun caressed my bare skin.

I tried to maintain an air of indifference but standing outdoors totally exposed made my pores drip with sweat while that little circular spot between my legs began its own manner of sweating.

I walked to the front of the car and pulled up the hood.

Bob followed right behind me. He was so close that I could feel him breathing on my bare back.

He could have easily looked under the hood while standing to the side, but instead he chose to look over my shoulder.

I jerked slightly when his hand cupped my right cheek, and gave it a hard squeeze.

Trying to take control of the situation which was out of control when I lost my dress, I turned to Bob saying, "If you want to see where the problem is, I think you will need to focus on something other than my ass!"

"I can focus just fine, darlin," was the reply that I was not hoping to hear.

I extended my arm and reached to the loose connector, while Bob's hand continued to explore my barely covered cheeks.

Trying to keep my voice from shaking I explained what the issue was with the spark plug wire, showing Bob how to push it tightly back over the plug.

At the same time Bob pushed his erection tightly between my cheeks.

I had to take a hold of the fan cover to keep from being pushed into the car.

Ok, Ok, I get it.

A somewhat attractive woman with a decent body delivers a car for you to consider buying, and the woman is wearing a pair of barely there panties and heels.

Why wouldn't you think that she might be a part of the package, or at least a "model" hired to stimulate the sale.

I wanted to assert myself and tell him that I was there to deliver the car; nothing else.

However his erotic attention to my posterior region was bringing on one of my moods, and by now you should know how I am when I am in one of my moods.

I thought to myself, "Why not become the hired model to sell the car?" It seemed to make perfect sense to me. 

With a firm hold on the front of the fan cover I purposely pushed my bottom back into his erection and let him continue to hump me.

My nipples were acting like presentation tools pointing directly at the spark plug wire.

I again detached the wire from the spark plug. This time however I slid my hand up and down the length of it simulating the stroking of something else that currently was jabbing my backside.

Continuing my suggestive demonstration I slid my hand to the very tip of the plug pushing tightly over the plug while saying, "You simply take the wire and push in firmly until it makes contact."

I then let out a little "Hmmmmm" sound to emphasize the words, "push in firmly."

I then turned around extricating his groin from my bottom and said in my most suggestive voice, "Do you want to take a test drive?" 

Bob wanted a test drive all right, but not behind the wheel of the car. 

Taking his hand, and led him to the driver's side door.

It is funny how when you go to a beach and spend time wearing just your swimsuit, you become very accustomed to it.

It was the same thing for me standing topless in my string bikini panties with Bob and his crew all staring at me.

It hadn't taken them long to empty the building once Bob forced me to exit the car. I had my personal group of voyeurs watching my every move.

However, because I was with 'the boss' there were no catcalls or lewd remarks; just a group of very attentive men and women.

It almost seemed natural for me to be showing off so much to complete strangers. I believe that my long list of panty perils has accustomed me to such activities.

Or is it simply that I am a latent exhibitionist that has finally opened the closet door and walked out into the bright sunshine???

I walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and more or less spread myself into the seat.

I mean that I slid down into the seat with my legs wide apart and my perky little nipples pointing forward.

I leaned over with my left hand placed on Bob's upper thigh and turned the key in the ignition.

It was quite obvious that Bob wanted me to take a hold of his stick shift, but I had a car to sell.

I positioned myself back in the passenger seat and with my right hand pushed the automatic seat control so the back reclined all of the way down.

Bob put the car in drive and then placed his free hand on my bare thigh.

I had become a part of the package.

I couldn't tell whether he liked the car or simply liked me, but after the test drive he invited me into his office so he could write a check for the amount of the car.

He positioned himself about a half a step behind me. I could actually feel his horny glare on my white nylon covered cheeks.

As I strolled past his crew, I simulated my sexiest walk. I know I should have been expecting it as he had been looking or humping at my bottom since I got out of the car, but just as we walked through the lane that his crew had provided he gave me a good swat on my left cheek.

It stung causing me to jump and to let out a little yelp.

When I turned to look at him, he had the biggest smile of pure satisfaction.




The Panty Perils of Me 28



He definitely was an 'ass man' and my ass fit his tastes to a tee.

Once we entered his office he sat down behind an immense desk and proceeded to write out a check placing it on the corner of his desk. I knew something was up besides his penis.

"I am a very straight forward man," he began, "And I would love to have your lovely lips around my c**k as a way to seal our deal."

I looked at the check sitting on his desk. He had written it out for $1,000 more than the asking price of the car.

"Another donation to the University" I thought to myself. 

I guess I should have thought that I wasn't anybody's slut and didn't give blow jobs for money.

I guess I should have thought a lot of things like leaving my dress on while driving, but I was in my mood.

Bob thought that I was part of the package and I didn't see any reason to change his mind.

A very primal part of me was enjoying the role of a sexy bimbo with a spankable butt.

Maybe this is exactly what happens when a business man or woman leaves home to go to a conference or convention. They assume another persona that lets them explore their sexual side without any limitations.

So I guess that in a way this was my business conference.

"Well, if it seals the deal, I guess that I could give you a little kiss," I responded with a sly little grin licking my lips while staring directly at his crotch.

I walked around to Bob's side of his desk; knelt on the floor; unzipped his zipper; and pulled out his deep red, swollen headed, and oozing erection.

Taking a firm grip on his shaft I licked his penis along the vein that runs on the underside from bottom to top. I then ran my tongue across the head licking up his sticky goo. 

Treating Bob's penis like it was a lollipop, I swirled my tongue over and around the tip and head, then wrapping my lips over it while making a loud sucking sound.

While I performed orally for him I also arched my back and moved my bottom back and forth giving him a good look at my barely covered assets.

I felt him lean forward almost trapping my face against his groin and without warning I a stinging smack of his hand ricocheted off one of my cheeks. I jerked forward; a movement that pushed his erection well into my mouth.

It seems that he was going to direct my oral activities by swatting my cheeks whenever he wanted me to deep throat him.

I straightened my neck as well as I could so his his throbbing flesh could push in as far as it would go, and keeping me from biting him each time he smacked my bottom.

At work we are always told to keep the customer in mind and I certainly was abiding by this.

"Uh's and ow's reverberated off his office walls as we both verbally reacted to each other's activities.

The stinging slaps across my cheeks were creating a very sensual effect on my now very swollen lips.

Each time his hand stung my almost bare skin a small amount of liquid would drip down from my crotch.

I was about as turned on as I could be.

It seems that my little role play of a woman for hire appealed to my very base sense of self.

And I respond arousingly well to a man who has no problem stating what he wants from me.

Just as I knew that he was about to give me chipmunk cheeks with his hot cream, he pulled me off of his penis shooting his hot spunk across my face and breasts.

It came in globs dripping from my chin and both nipples.

Obviously Bob liked seeing me covered with his liquid explosion as his penis remained pointing straight into my face even after he had finished his lewd baptism of me.

"God, that felt good" he exclaimed adding, "The bathroom is right through that door."

I got up from the floor receiving one last smack across my bottom. Holding my arm across my torso just under my breasts kept his creamy salute from dripped onto my panties.

Once in his private bathroom I was able to clean all of his liquid salute off my face and breasts.

I then took the signed car title out of my shoulder bag, as it had survived the trip, and handed it to him.

As he perused the document, I asked if he had something for me to wear.

I decided that it would be better to wear something more for my trip home. No more driving almost naked; at least for this day.

He walked out and came back with a dark red t-shirt.

"This is about the only thing that I have as they were misprints, so I never gave them to my truckers."

The t-shirt had the name and logo of his trucking firm on the front and large white letters on the back that read, "I accept any size load and go the distance for you."

I turned a shade of gray fully realizing the double entendre of the message.

But, hey, I would be mostly concealed sitting in the car anyway. 

I slipped it over my head finding that it barely reached past my crotch. Well, at least I wasn't almost naked anymore.

The first time that I remembered that I wasn't driving home, was when Bob asked me where he could have me dropped off.

Earlier that morning I had checked the bus schedules and figured that if I arrived reasonably on time and didn't spend more than 30 minutes with Bob, I would have just enough time to catch the bus back to the city.

What I hadn't considered or even dreamed of at the time was how to accomplish this feat wearing just a pair of sheer front panties.

To say that panic was setting in was an understatement. My entire body went into a full panic attack as I tried to gasp for air while breaking out into a cold sweat.

My panties were sticking to my skin as I mumbled, "I need to catch the 1:00 bus to the city." 

OMG!!!!!

I was about to spend 3 hours on a bus ride wearing a too short t-shirt that read, "I accept any size load."

What I had earlier surmised as my version of a business trip had suddenly turned into a nightmare?

I don't really remember getting into the truck, but Bob had one of his crew drop me off at the bus station. His employee spent most of the time staring at my legs and white nylon covered crotch, but it gave me a chance to calm down and collect my thoughts.

I took another one of my very deep breaths, which seems to precede all of my unexpected exposures, and walked as nonchalantly as a 40 year old woman wearing a micro, micro, mini dress with a very suggestive phrase printed on its back could possibly do.

I had decided to convince myself that my t-shirt was a mini dress although climbing onto the bus with the driver just behind me making a Hmmm, Hmm sound told me that I was still in just a t-shirt. A t-shirt that barely reached past my still red cheeks.

I strolled about halfway down the aisle and settled into a seat. My mini dress now barely reached to the seat cushion that I was on.

I kept my shoulder bag in my lap to keep my crotch from being seen by everyone who walked down the aisle past me.

Luckily there were only 5 other passengers on the bus so I had the two seats to myself as well as most of the ones around me.

However, a nice looking man in his late 20's with dark brown hair, brown eyes, dressed in jeans and work boots sat directly across the aisle from me.

I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye wondering how long it would take him to realize that the woman across the aisle from him was displaying all of her legs right up to her cheeks.

And except for her strategically placed shoulder bag, a vee of white nylon would be seen between her tightly closed legs.

Surprisingly enough it was close to 20 minutes before my young voyeur discovered my state of exposure.

He was trying to be as subtle as he could, but couldn't help glancing over towards me every few seconds.

Before he had noticed me I had been able to spend some time noticing him.

He had very kind features and looked intelligent, which made me more comfortable then I would normally be in a situation like this.

I know, I know. Earlier I said that I must be getting used to being seen wearing very little, but this was quite different than any of my previous unexpected exposures. 

Thankfully my little message of accepting any size load was pressed against the back of my seat.

He reminded me a little of Arnold as he seemed shy and very unassuming. Definitely not the type of person who would take advantage of a woman wearing very little on a public bus.

Finally after watching his sideway glances for over half an hour, I looked directly at him, smiled, and said "Hi.".

He smiled back returning my greeting.

I normally don't talk to strangers, although it seems that I have no qualms about putting their penises in my mouth, but I liked the look of this young man.

I found myself blurting out,"You can't believe what kind of a day I have had."

He looked at my completely bare leg and responded, "I don't think that I could."

I felt my entire body relax and knew immediately that he was safe.

I told him about my day including most of the details other than the spanking and the blow job.

He listened intently showing concern and wild disbelieve in all of the right spots. I enjoyed talking to him and could tell that he enjoyed me.

When he asked if I really was wearing just my panties under the T-shirt, I reached down and pulled the t-shirt up above my waist.

The look in his eyes when he saw the tiny string of material that hugged my hip was pure magic; a very sensual kind of magic.

I completely forgot everything that had happened to me so far, along with the fact that I was sitting on a bus talking to a perfect stranger.

Damn myself! I again wanted to play.

I swung my knees towards him so he had a little peek between my legs as my shoulder bag was still strategically situated on my lap.

His eyes immediately looked at the new view and I watched the expression of delight spread across his face.

"OK, now you need to show me something," I almost purred across the aisle.

He returned my request with a quizzical stare, so I motioned to his lap and mimicked an unzipping motion.

He was clearly embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough to refuse.

Looking over the seatbacks in front of him and behind to confirm that we were almost alone, he reached down to his waist, took a hold of the zipper of his jeans and pulled.

The telltale sound of the zipper made my knees weak. I wanted to grab myself and work out some tension.

I again motioned to him, but this time to open his fly now that the zipper was down.

I saw the front of his blue and green plaid boxers and knew that it would be very simple for him to reach in and pull his penis out of his jeans.

He gave me that look that says, "Is this what you wanted?" I responded my taking my shoulder bag off of my lap while at the same time lifting my t-shirt up to reveal the top elastic of my panties.

My trimmed mound was clearly visible through the sheer fabric.

His eyes went wide with shock and amazement.

I looked at his crotch and nodded to him indicating that I wanted to see the same.

He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the two folds of fabric wide apart. Then taking a hold of the opening in his boxer shorts he pulled the fabric apart.

By the look of shock on his face, I don't think that he intended what happened next.

Out popped the most perfectly formed erection that I have ever seen. It was at least 7 inches long, lean, circumcised, with a round dark red helmet.

Now it was my turn to stare with awe and satisfaction.

He quickly reached down to put it away, and I cleared my throat loudly to stop him.

It was the cutest thing to see him with his hand around the shaft looking at me.

I shook my head to signal to him, "Don't you dare put that thing away."

He dropped his hands down to his sides in response.

I really wanted to go over to him and impale myself on his erection riding it until I couldn't stand the pleasure anymore, but I had had sex with one stranger already today.

And besides I kept trying to convince myself that as long as I wasn't having intercourse, I wasn't cheating.

Yah, right!!

I pointed my crotch directly at my boy toy and opened my knees as wide as I could considering the space provided between the rows of seats.

His erection pulsed in response to my blatant exhibition.

Pulling my t-shirt further up to reveal my very erect nipples I let the fabric rest on my tiny breasts.

His erection continued to pulse.

I stared directly into his eyes and watched him watch me slid my right hand down inside the top of my panties.

The sheer front of my string bikini's provided no doubt as to the destination of my hand.

My lower lips were wet with my excitement and it was effortless to find my awaiting kernel.

As I softly rubbed my finger along its wet surface, my knees opened wider. My eyes closed and I let out a soft moan of pure pleasure.

Boy toy was mesmerized by my performance.

I looked at him and then down at his crotch indicating that he needed to do the same for me.

His erection was already starting to ooze as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft and began to pump the firm flesh.

This boy was going to be finished long before I wanted him to, so I again cleared my throat shaking my head to stop.

The look of disappointment on his face was delectable.

Pulling my t shirt back down my torso, I stood up, stepped across the aisle and settled into the seat right next to him.

I whispered, "Let me show you how to do that."

His penis was oozing non stop which was literally making me drool.

I smeared his goo over and around the distinctive head while at the same time opening my mouth and letting my drool drip down.

Wrapping my hand around his long shaft I pointed his erection forward in order to direct my saliva to drip along his slender pointer.

As I drooled, I continued to stroke him until he was nice and slippery.

Once his skin was glistening with my drippings I directed my attention to his swollen helmet wrapping my fingers around the very top of his shaft and using my thumb to rub across it's oozing oriface.

It was precisely at this moment that he said, "I bet you can't get me to come in less than 10 minutes."

It seemed odd and I should have asked for an explanation as usually we all like to make things last as long as possible.

But you know me, I am always up for a challenge.

I was going to get him to spurt semen all across the back of the seat in front of us.

I went to work on his erection continuously keeping it slick and slippery alternately stroking him from testicles to tip and then rubbing the very tip with my thumb.

I couldn't believe it as after the ten minutes of heavy breathing and a continuous oozing tip, there were no spurts, squirts, or splashes.

Still gripping his erection, I said, "Ok, Ok, I lost the bet. So what do I have to do?"

He smiled with a 'I know something that you don't' grin and replied, "I want a blow job on the bus."

The seats provided virtually no room for me to kneel on the floor and they were too narrow to kneel on without my almost bare butt sticking out into the aisle, but I had taken the challenge and lost.

"So tell me what you know that I don't."

He then explained to me that just after he had reached puberty he had injured his penis and lost most of the sensitivity to it.

So he was able to get an erection, a very nice one I might add, however it was very difficult for him to reach the point of ejaculation.

"So you can stay hard for a long time without squirting?" I asked.

"That's right." he replied.

We still had close to 2 hours left on our bus ride, so I asked him if I could try something out before performing my task.

"Anything you want." he said.

Remember how before I had stated that when I saw his almost perfect erection, I just wanted to impale myself on it?

Well Ms. Harley hadn't had a good orgasm since her little drive earlier in the day, and Ms. Harley was horny; very horny.

Somehow I managed to position myself facing forward on his lap which in the process had me push my nylon covered cheeks right in his face.

But a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

With my legs shaking from the physical effort of essentially stooping over his extended spear of asparagus, I slipped one hand between my legs sliding the thin strip of nylon fabric to the side of my crotch and ever so slowly lowered myself onto his firm flesh.

Once I was situated, I placed both hands on the arm rests on both sides of his seat and began to lower and raise myself letting my internal juices fully lubricate his flesh dildo.

I slowly worked it back and forth until I could comfortably lower my entire weight into his lap.

The feel of having his warm erect flesh invade my lower regions was beyond astounding.

My head flew back, my eyes shut, and a long moan of pure pleasure escaped through my closed lips.

Oh my god, I don't think that I had ever felt something so incredibly delicious.

Every nerve ending in my body was responding to the feeling.

I would swear that the tip of his head was poking the bottom of my stomach, and it felt fabulous.

Now my entire frame was shaking.

I gripped the arm rests and raised myself up until I could feel the ridge of skin around his swollen head tweak my kernel.

Another moan of raw passion escaped. I began a frantic series of up and down movements using his ridge to massage my kernel.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh" was the extent of my vocabulary as I entered the prelude of my first orgasm.

When my body convulsed the first time, I was able to keep myself raised in just the right position to get the full effect.

However each subsequent spasm brought my trembling arms closer and closer to exhaustion until I was again fully impaled on his throbbing weapon of sexual pleasure.

My entire body was glistening in sweat from the combination of physical effort and the series of fantastic orgasms.

Once I felt rested enough, I repeated the process over and over again.

After close to 20 minutes of playing stoop tag with his rock hard organ, I was too exhausted to lift myself up from my full impalement.

The entire time, he never came or convulsed allowing me to simply use him for my extreme pleasure.

Finally I had had enough. He had to help me to stand up to allow his long snake to escape from its lair.

I slumped back into the seat beside him and saw copious amounts of my liquid orgasms dripping and running down the length of his still hard flesh.

Now it was his turn.

As I climbed up onto my seat so that I was kneeling with my butt sticking out into the aisle, he said to me, "I love the logo on your t-shirt."

I couldn't help but laugh and replied, "Let's see what kind of a load I can deliver." 

I could feel the bottom of my t-shirt barely touching my lower back and knew that I was giving the bus driver a full view of my sweat soaked and clinging panties.

At this point I just didn't care anymore.

Ms. I don't want anyone to think that I am a slut was completely gone.

I liked who I was becoming and no longer cared who knew it.

Taking a hold of boy toy's shaft, I lowered my face down into his lap wrapping my lips around his erection.

I was a bit over come with the taste of my own juices. It is often that a person gets to taste their sexual excitement unless they purposely want to. thought occurred to me.

As I was bobbing for apples in his lap a thought occurred to me. If boy toy can barely feel any stimulation form his sexual extension, why not try something that usually results in a very intense oral experience.

I know that the most sensitive area on a man's erection is usually the narrow ridge of skin located right between the space created by the ridge of his helmet.

And since it is located on the underside of his erection , I could use my lower teeth to rub this area raw.

So I stuck out my lower jaw baring my teeth to his skin and began to bob up and down on his penis.




The Panty Perils of Me 28



And after a few scrapes of my teeth I would stop at the top of his penis and bite him eliciting a little squeal of pleasure from him.

I had found the formula for his ejaculation.

Of course with my head lowered into his lap I had no idea that my bobbing bottom was garnering attention from the driver as well as the very few other passengers on the bus.

As I continued my oral efforts on boy toy, I had a silent cheering section watching the thin nylon of my panties recede into my cheeks as well as the appearance of a very visible camel toe.

If I had known, I might not have pushed my free hand down inside the sheer front of my panties letting two fingers find my still very swollen kernel.

I can only imagine what it must have looked like as my select audience watched the little wrestling match going on under the thin fabric covering my soaked crotch.

This time it was well under 10 minutes when I heard boy toy's exclamation of "Oh yah!" and felt the first hot and gooey load of jism fill my mouth.

I managed to time my swallows in between his ejaculation so nothing overflowed onto his pants.

I don't know if it had been a while since he last came, but the volume of liquid that issued from him was incredible.

I certainly wasn't going to require a late lunch.

When it was all over and I was again able to place my posterior where it belonged, a loud ovation filled the bus causing both myself and boy toy to flush in embarrassment.

Actually for me it was more a flush of pride and orgasmic afterglow.

I had had the most incredibly exciting and arousing day ever.

As I walked off the bus, the driver thanked me. He didn't say why and I didn't have to ask.

Exiting the bus, I spied Mr. Van der Waal waiting beside his car. He drove me home and thanked me for helping out.

I simply smiled.

As I walked towards my house, I heard him say behind me, "Nice t-shirt by the way."

I thought to myself with a grin, "Yes it is. It certainly is."



The Panty Perils of Me 29





After my little car trip it was difficult for me to keep my mind on the mundane routine of work and home life.

I needed something to satisfy my now not so latent desires to have fun.

And since Eric's birthday was coming up, I thought that it would be a very unique present to take him panty shopping.

I had no idea that he had some birthday present ideas of his own.

We set a date to meet at a local coffee house. Eric told me that he had something for me before our trip to the mall.

The Mall

A Preview Showing

Thankfully I work close to my home, as I had spent most of the morning obsessing over the choice of my current outfit; a black wool skirt with a kick pleat with dark gray knit thigh highs. I certainly was dressed appropriately for the office and any subsequent business meeting, but I wanted to be and feel sexy for our afternoon at the mall.

Professor Eric and I had set aside the entire afternoon together. 

I quickly drove home, ran to the front door with my skirt already unzipped and slipping down my legs. It hit the floor just as I opened the door and stepped into the house. 

If any of my neighbors had been watching, they would have had a clear view of my choice of panties. I had on a very tight fitting black nylon bikini panty with red stitching on the waist and leg openings.

It was too small to properly cover my cheeks, which is one of the reasons that I like it. And very appropriately it had the word "sassy" also in red stitching across my butt.

I often am able to wear an XS or small size panty, but these had a size label that stated small, however by the way they fit, they made my booty look like an extra large. So my bottom was sticking out almost like I was wearing a thong. Oh, did I say that I really liked these?

I kicked off both high heels and peeled my knit thigh highs down each leg. It was much less like a strip tease and more like a fire drill as I scooped up the skirt and leggings throwing them on my bed.

I pulled open my lingerie drawer and grabbed a black with red stitching garter belt and a pair of black stockings.

I was frustrated with how long it took to pull on my pair of nylons and hook them to the garter clasps, but finally I was done. Of course, I tucked the garter straps through my panties. How else can you quickly take a tinkle with stockings on?

Then I slipped on what I had wanted to put on all morning; my black leather mini skirt with a full nylon lining. It slides so easily on my nylons that it would be quite simple to show off my legs, stocking tops, and panties as well as to fulfill the directions that Professor Eric had sent me via email.

Besides having something for me, he had sent me an email outlining 3 tasks that he wanted me to perform while at the mall.

Each one involved exposing my undies to unsuspecting mall patrons.

Now that very familiar tingling feeling began to take over my entire body. I knew that I was ready.

I felt my heart skip a beat when I entered the coffee house and saw him sitting at a table along the window. He looked so classy in his gray wool slacks and black turtleneck. Although I have to confess that I could only think about what he might be wearing underneath those wool slacks.

Since we were going to do some panty shopping at the mall I assumed that I would be finding out soon enough. But I wanted to know now!!

The moment I sat down he pushed a little box with red and gold striped wrapping paper on it and a beautiful gold bow towards me. "I assume that this is what you wanted to give me" I asked.

He could have said, "No it's for the young lady behind the counter." but he didn't.

Instead he replied, "I want you to wear this for during our afternoon at the mall and for the performance of your tasks."

I slipped the bow off and tore open the paper. It was a box from Adam and Eve, which really got my attention. I opened it to find a very sexy black lace string bikini panty with ribbon ties on the side. Funny that I had decided to wear black as well.

When I held them up a small black thingy fell out from the crotch. It looked like a large peanut with very smooth rounded edges. Inside the box sat some sort of equally small control device.

I took out the instructions and realized immediately that the black peanut was a vibrating egg that fit inside the liner in the panties crotch.

As I sat there a bit dumbfounded and very aroused, he told me to go to the bathroom and try everything on.

I don't know whether the business people sitting all around us pretending to be busy on their laptops noticed us, but I was hoping that they would.

I was in one of my moods, which is virtually all of the time now. Why else would I have switched to my mini leather skirt and stockings?

I got up from my chair realizing that my skirt had slipped well up to the top of my thighs revealing my stocking tops, and garter straps. The full nylon lining of my skirt often performed as if it had a will of its own. And most of the time it's will was to show off my legs.

Instead of pulling my skirt down to cover up, I couldn't help myself. I pressed my hands on the sides of my skirt and easily slid it up and over my bottom sticking my "sassy" booty towards Professor Eric and everyone else in the vicinity.

I loved how the place became quiet.

There is nothing like performing a little attention grabber to effectively cause a brief moment of silence.

I then let my skirt slide back down to the top of my thighs and walked to the bathroom putting a very exaggerated movement in my hips as I knew Eric and most everyone else were still watching me.

Once in the bathroom, I took the stall farthest from the door, slipped my skirt off and laid it over the top of the stall. Then I slipped out of my "sassy" panties taking just a brief moment to note the wetness of the crotch. They were very aromatic and quite indicative of my state of arousal.

I laid them on top of my skirt, put the peanut inside its tiny pocket and slipped the side tie panties on. They were a bit big, and no matter how tightly I tied the side ties, they still didn't hug my intimate area like my sassies did. So I made a decision that rested in some very intense and overwhelming sensations later.

I pushed the vibrating egg inside my now very wet and slippery opening. It found its place without any problem whatsoever, nestling itself right against my welcoming kernel.

I took the remote control and pushed the lowest setting. I didn't feel much other than a very light vibration, but by the time I got to the 3rd setting a very nice sensation was happening right inside my nether region.

"Oooooooh" slipped from my lips as I took a huge gulp of air. It felt wonderful. 

I worked through each setting with each one inducing another moan from my lips until setting 9.

This one forced my thighs to squeeze tightly together, my entire body to crunch forward, and my legs to buckle. If it hadn't been for the toilet seat, I would have ended up on the floor.

I probably looked as if I had to go to the bathroom really bad, but it was anything but that. The intensity of the vibration was so extreme that I couldn't help but grab myself between my legs and groan loudly.

I decided to not try level 10.

Also, I had been in the bathroom long enough and we had things to do for the afternoon; like shopping for panties. And I had my tasks to perform, although they now included having a vibrating egg inside of me.

I pulled my skirt back up, zipped the back, grabbed the ribbon tie panties, and headed back to our table.

Not surprisingly everyone was awaiting my return. If they had any idea of what devious device was now resting right up against my female nub, we would have had them following us to our next destination.

I walked up to Eric with a smirk on my face laying the black lace panties across the table right in front of him making sure that they were visible to everyone seated near us.

"They were too big" I stated matter of factly.

"What about the egg?" Eric whispered back. 

"It fit just fine," I replied pushing my hand against the front of my skirt.

Yes, I was ddefinitely in one of my moods.

I sat back down and proceeded to tell him about setting 3 through 9 thinking that he would suggest a setting for me to use. Boy, was I wrong!

With a very lascivious smile Eric asked me to hand the control over to him.

I can't tell you how vulnerable it felt to hand him that tiny device that with a simple push of a button would send me into orgasmic convulsions. My throat went dry and I reached for my glass of water drinking it down in almost one gulp.

The afternoon was becoming much more sensually enticing than I had ever imagined.

We then left the coffee place in his car and drove to the mall. Eric wanted to see my legs as he drove. It was quite simple to slide my leather skirt up to the very top of my thighs allowing him to see everything from my crotch down. His wool pants tented almost immediately.

So when a woman constantly attracts men and sometimes other women who want to see her exposed, is it the woman's fault?

Is there such thing as an energetic attraction that brings people into your life to fulfill your hidden desires and fantasies?

Not exactly the sexiest of thoughts, but it is what I was thinking as we headed to the mall.

Panty Shopping

Once we arrived at the mall I took him straight to my favorite lingerie store.

Thankfully I had never been there with my husband, as the owner knew me by name. When we entered the store, she immediately came up to us saying, "Oh, is this your husband?" I am sure that Eric noticed that I never responded directly to her question but simply introduced him by his first name.

The owner than handed us over to her sales assistant, a beautiful young lady of Latin descent, who asked me what I was interested in. She stood about 5'6" tall and with her high heels towered over my 5'4" frame. Her name was Sarah with beautiful ebony colored long hair and an incredibly gorgeous body, which she had dressed in a tight fitting white blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her skirt was tight enough to see her garter clasps, which we both easily noticed.

I may have felt as attracted to Sarah as Eric seemed to be.

I knew immediately that she would be the perfect person to assist is.

I told her that we wanted to try on matching panties. Her expression never changed as she led us to the back of the store where they kept their novelty items.

I picked out a white pair of tiny string panties with a tiny paddle applique on each hip and "Spank Me" embroidered across the bottom.

Sarah found me a small and then inquired as to Eric's size. 

His expression was priceless as he mumbled, "Probably a large."

Sarah took out a large in the same style and fabric but without the message across the bottom. Handing it to him she asked whether we required separate dressing rooms. I told her that we would share one and she opened the room in the very back of their dressing area.

The dressing room was quite large with a single chair and the back wall was an entire mirror. 

I slipped off my leather skirt so Eric could see my entire under ensemble. I wanted to see how he physically reacted to my garters, stockings, and "sassy" panties, knowing that it would make it that much more difficult for him to fit into his panties.

Eric just stood there staring at me front and back as the mirror provided him an excellent view of my backside.

I took a hold of his belt and began to undo it saying, "Well, if you are just going to stare than I will take your pants off myself."

I slid his pants down his legs, lifting his turtleneck above his waist, and saw the sexiest black thong panties wrapped around his dripping erection. The head of which was sticking completely out of his panties.

I took my finger, using it to wipe the ooze off of his swollen tip and licked it. "We can't have you dripping on your new panties before we know whether they fit," I explained.

I then turned him around so his back was to the full-length mirror and reveled in the fore and aft view of his form fitting black thong.

"Hmmmm! You look quite delicious," I remarked reaching around his back and stroking his taut cheeks.

The head of his penis oozed some more goo and I again used my finger to taste his liquid reaction to my touch.

He didn't say much allowing me to just do, as I wanted to. I am sure that he knew that my turn was coming as he held the remote control to the smooth little egg that was pushing right against my swollen pearl.

Finally I slipped on the white panties over my black 'sassies' and turned around for him.

His look told me all that I needed to know, although it certainly didn't hurt to have him give an ear to ear smile of approval.

"Your turn," I replied and watched him step out of his pants that had been draped around his ankles, stepping into the tiny white panties.

As he pulled them up, we heard Sarah's voice asking us how things were looking.

I responded that we might require her help as Eric's panties seemed a little small.

It seems that my little display had caused a portion of his flesh to expand to the point that it was sticking out the top. 

To my total delight, Sarah opened the door of the dressing room, looking directly at Eric's midsection. His erection was on display with the mushroom shaped head sticking out of both pairs of panties.

"I see what you mean," Sarah said with a grin that took over her entire face.
I took a hold of Eric's erection, tucking it inside his black thong pointing the exposed squirt gun towards his hip. "That seems better," I remarked and Sarah nodded in agreement.

Eric's face at this point was almost as red as his penis, but I knew that he loved the attention from the two of us.

Sarah then reached inside his thong and moved the prominent pointer to the other hip saying, "Maybe it looks better on this side."

I can only imagine how difficult it was for Eric not to fill both pairs of panties with his goop.

"I think that I prefer it on his right hip," and I again reached in and moved his warm firm flesh to the other hip.

"Hmm, Maybe you are right?" Sarah replied enjoying the playful interaction with Eric's erection.

Sarah then turned her attention to my "Spank me" panties saying "Those seem to fit perfectly," giving me a swat across my cheeks.

I liked the feel of her hand on my buttocks and cooed in response.

She then postioned herself along my side and played with my bottom while pretending to look at Eric's nylon encased throbbing flesh.

As her hand slipped down my cheek reaching between my legs I nervously asked, "Do you have anything in red?" 

Sarah pushed two fingers up into my dripping faucet while at the sam time saying, "Follow me." I followed her out of the privacy of the dressing room still wearing nothing from my waist down other than the white panties over my black ones. I grabbed Eric's hand and pulled him after me.

We were in the very back of the store and thus no one outside in the mall could see us. I wanted to show Eric off and knew that Sarah as well as the store's owner, Christina, would enjoy the view as much as I did.

I just never expected her to enjoy seeing me more.

Sarah took a very sexy red pair with silver arrows embroidered around the waist and held them up to Eric's groin. His erection again popped out of the top of the thong, which made Sarah remark, "I think that Eric likes these."

Christina joined us in the back of the store leaning against one of the shelves, watching him and his jack in the box erection.

When a large dollop of goo oozed out of his penis, she came over wiping it with her finger and then stuck it in her mouth. " I just love a man in panties, " she added as she sucked on her finger.

Sarah and Christina had him try on quite a few styles and colors without allowing Eric back into the dressing room. They even allowed him to slip off his thong "so they could see the real fit of the panties," or so they said.

The entire time Sarah's hand was on my barely coverd butt continuously giving me little squeezes.

Christina took over the chore of cleaning off Eric's drippings which continuously covered the tip of his erection as he slipped in and out of each pair of panties.

Eric's ability to not ejaculate was remarkable as he had three very sexy women all handling his goods while encased in soft nylons, silks, and satins.

Once when I was sure that he was going to send a long rope of crème across the carpeted floor, Christina took a hold of him just under the helmet and squeezed tightly. We all watched as Eric convulsed, but nothing squirted out and when she released his penis, his erection was still just as formidable as before.

"A little trick I learned when I was in college," she said.

Sarah had again found my wet spot which was becoming apparent through both pairs of panties that I had on. Her fingers were playing a very erotic concerto between my legs and I had to do everything that I could to keep from moaning out loud.

Christina knew exactly what was going on and thus kept Eric entertained as I neared orgasm.

I could have easily stayed there for the remainder of the afternoon, but I still had my own tasks to perform.

Finally I broke out of the sexual trance that I was in with Sarah's fingers between my legs and said, "We need to get going."

We all watched as Eric slipped the last pair of panties off and again put on his thong. By this time he were perfectly comfortable stripping in and out of panties in front of us, enjoying the constant attention that his oozing member was receiving from Christina.

There is no doubt that we all would have loved to see him orgasm in front of us, however the timing and a carpeted floor just didn't make it practical.

We both walked back to the dressing room to get dressed. But before Eric put his trousers back on I reached into my pocket and found a little item that I had wanted to give him in return for the vibrating egg that he had given me. It was a small stretchable vinyl ring.

I reached inside his black thong taking a firm grip of his seemingly eternal erection.

With Christina and Sarah watching through the open door, I put the ring over it's still oozing head and rolled it down the shaft.

Eric pushed his groin towards my grip letting a moan of pleasure escape through his closed lips.

Once I had the ring all of the way down to his very smooth and hairless testicles, I carefully pulled it creating an opening just large enough to slip over the family jewels. I knew that all of our work to keep him nice and erect would be for naught if I let the vinyl ring snap against those two sensitive eggs. I was able to get the ring to stretch just far enough to insert both testicles through the loop and gently rolled it in place right to the base of his maleness.

Now he would be visibly erect for the remainder of our date.

The ring was perfect as it placed his erection out front, pushing against the fabric of his fine wool pants. The tenting effect was mouth watering if I can use this description. I was beyond horny and now ready to perform my tasks.

I slipped off the "Spank Me" panties handing them to Julia and put my skirt back on. 

Julia watched me the entire time with a very lascivious smile on her face.

I never ever thought that I would be attracted to other women. However Jackie, Kathy and now Julia would seem to make a case for dispelling my long held beliefs.

So what's new about me discovering more aspects of my sexual side? It seems that this is what the last few months have been all about.

At the counter Christina thanked Eric for providing her with such a memorable afternoon while wrapping all of our purchases in the store's trademark lavender colored tissue paper. Christina also remarked that she was going to have laminate flooring installed and hoped that we would be back to indoctrinate it.




The Panty Perils of Me 29



I assured her that we would.

Sarah came over to me and whispered, "You need to come back by yourself next time and I will attend to you personally."

My lower lips convulsed when she said "attend to you personally."

I then took the, his & her packages, and back into the mall we went.

Now it was my turn to perform.

Good Vibrations 

Right outside of the lingerie store was an elderly gentleman sitting on one of the benches located throughout the mall. He was watching the women going in and out of the store imagining what they might have purchased to cover their intimate areas.

He had the perfect spot as he could watch the female shoppers picking up various bras and panties as they decided which selections to try on.

As I watched him I noticed his one hand continuously touching his crotch.

I knew immediately that I had found the perfect person to fulfill my first assignment.

Eric had given me three tasks; all of which involved showing off my stockings, garters, and panties to unsuspecting mall patrons. The three performances that I had to give involved an elderly gentleman, a college student who fit into the 'nerd' or 'geek' category, and a young couple.

Eric would give me direction through the use of the remote control that operated the vibrating egg that I had inserted inside my very wet aperture.

I looked at him and nodded towards the man on the bench. Eric responded by pushing the button on the remote control sending a very delectable vibration through my sensitive nub. The setting on the controller was low enough to not cause me to react but high enough to restart my water works.

As he moved around the back of my target in order to get a good view of my performance, I went and sat down in the bench directly opposite the man. I took out my smart phone and pretended to look at my text messages while purposely opening my legs to the voyeur.

It was easy for me to periodically glance over the top of my phone to make sure that I had his attention. 

I most certainly did.

Eric obviously felt that I could do better as a much more intense vibration shook my nether regions. I couldn't help but squeeze my lower lips together, which only intensified the feeling.

Thankfully he turned the setting back down or I would have done a very lewd bugaloo for anyone near us.

I got the message and as I continued to look at my phone I gradually adjusted my seat on the bench by slowly moving my butt forward causing my trapped leather skirt to slide up my legs. Once the skirt was above my stocking tops, I dropped one knee giving my observer an unobstructed view up my skirt right to my black nylon covered crotch.

I have to admit that it was fortunate that I was wearing black, as any light color would have clearly shown my state of arousal. I was absolutely dripping sexual juice into the crotch of my panties.

The steady vibration of the egg only added to my excitement.

Eric turned the rhythm of the egg up a couple of notches to let me know that I was doing well. In reaction I gave our target a full view of garter straps and black panties by swinging one leg to the side as I turned to pick up my packages and purse.

God, even without the egg I would have been vibrating.

After picking up my packages and purse, I stood up and gave the man, who now had a firm grip of his crotch, a very "You're welcome" smile. I walked past where Eric was standing and headed down the mall.

One task down and two to go.

I was enjoying this. Maybe a little too much.

I decided to see whether I could find my 'geek' target in one of the large bookstores in the gaming section.

I entered the Shedes & Regal bookstore heading to the back shelves where I knew all of the computer games and cheat books were.

I had been in the store often enough to know the lay out and usually noticed the group of young men in the back as they often noticed me in return.

I was not disappointed as there were four young men grouped together discussing the merits of first person shooters versus overhead views. I had found the perfect foursome to fulfill my next assignment, but first I needed to get their attention.

Without drawing any attention to myself I reached inside the lavender bag from the lingerie store and pulled my three pairs of panties out from their lavender tissue paper wrapping. Once they were loose inside the bag, I placed them right at the top.

Then walking up to where the four were standing, I asked them for a recommendation of a suitable game for my 10-year-old nephew. As they all turned towards me, I purposely dropped my lingerie package and successfully watched as my multi colored bikini panties fell out onto the floor.

The fact that my "Spank Me" panties were on top with the embroidered stitching facing up caused a flush of red to invade my cheeks.

Although it certainly got there attention.

I think that if penises made a noise as they filled with blood and stretched the skin to full erection, I would have heard four loud 'pops' as the front of their pants pushed forward towards me.

I didn't have to fake my embarrassment, as I quickly crouched down to pick up my panties. In succession four sets of knees bent down with me with four sets of hands reaching for my dainties.

Eric were standing at the end of the aisle with a most approving smile on your face.

I put one knee on the ground while leaving the other one up feeling my skirt slide well up my thighs as my nylon covered crotch made its second appearance of the afternoon. 

This time everything was on display right from the get go.

In my squatting position my skirt provided no coverage whatsoever. If anything it simply offered a leather frame for my upper thighs and softly purring kitty. All four of my eager assistants had a full view of my pulsing lips as my sodden crotch had become a perfect replication of a camel toe.

Eric clicked the remote setting to what felt like a five and I almost swooned from the immediate pleasure that I felt. My thighs were moving in and out further drawing the four young men's attention to my crotch. I couldn't help it as the egg was performing wonders inside my clenched lips.

When Eric turned the setting up one more notch I lost my balance and fell backwards on my butt with my legs wide-open and my black leather skirt now replicating a wide belt instead of a skirt. The young man closest to me attempted to grab me as I fell backwards and in turn lost his balance as well.

I don't know whether you've ever noticed, but when we fall we always place our hands right where our eyes are looking in order to stop our momentum. In this case the young man's eyes were focused on my nylon covered pouty, pulsating lower lips. Which is exactly where his hand ended up.

He now was leaning directly on my mound with his thumb placed in the center of my camel toe.

Two of the other young men were starting to leak seminal fluid through the front of their pants.

Eric decided that this was the perfect time to turn the vibrating egg up a few notches. As the sensations coursed through my swollen lips, my legs came apart allowing my accidental molester full access to my crotch.

An elongated "Uhhhhhhhhhhh" came out of my mouth as the combination of the vibrating egg and the young man's hand placement was bringing me to the edge.

If he hadn't so quickly pulled his hand back with numerous exclamations of "I'm sorry," I am sure that I would have orgasmed for all four of them.

There is no doubt in my mind that young Mr. Handy had a moist and aromatic hand considering its placement on my crotch as well as my state of arousal.

His pants were starting to show a wet spot as well.

There is no doubt that once I was gone, he would share my aroma to each of his three friends and that I would be the topic of many a session of self-pleasuring for months to come.

Am I complaining? Certainly not!

But for now my second task was done, and I needed to get my legs back together and up off the ground 

I extended my hand to another of the young men who was again standing while his friend's were either busy picking up my recently purchased panties or staring up my skirt. He pulled me up and I took the opportunity to pull my skirt back down re-covering my panties and garter straps.

I took the panties that they had collected for me and placed them back inside the lavender store bag thanking them all for their assistance.

I also received some wonderful suggestions of games for my non-existent nephew as they obviously didn't want me to leave quite yet.

I really enjoyed there company as well as observing the continuing evidence of tent poles pushing against the front fabric of their khaki pants with accompanying expanding wet spots.

As I walked back down the aisle away from them, I gave a quick glance over their shoulders at Eric. He made a gesture to me that I understood immediately.

Eric not only knew the perfect time to increase my vibratory sensations, but also knew how to take advantage of me when I am in one of my moods.

So taking his gestured advice, I asked the four young men if they had camera phones. They responded by quickly producing four of them from their jacket pockets. Then with a single warning of "Get ready, " I pulled my skirt up over my bottom and gave them a view of my 'sassy' behind.

I left my skirt up until I cleared the row of bookshelves and then rejoined Eric at the front of the store.

"Two down with one to go," I remarked as we made our way back into the mall.

I hope to think that these four young men will remember me for years to come providing them with ample ammunition for their flesh guns.

My last requirement was to find a couple and get their attention by being overtly sexy. It occurred to me that the best place to find a couple would be in the women's section of a department store. I imagined the woman perusing the clothes while the man did his best to remain interested.

So off we went to Marcy's.

Sure enough as we entered the woman's clothing area I saw the perfect couple or so I hoped.

Eric again stayed back as I wandered directly into their line of sight.

The woman was looking through a rack of dresses, so I positioned myself so she was directly between her husband and myself. Thus whenever he would look at her to comment on a dress, he would also be able to see me and whatever I was going to do.

I started by pulling skirts off the rack and holding each up to my waist as if trying to get an idea as to how they might look on me. 

In Eric's own devious style he increased the vibration setting on my egg making it virtually impossible for me to not want to grab myself in a futile effort to lessen the wicked sensations attacking my pleasure zone.

It was his way to tell me that I wasn't performing my task very effectively. I knew full well that he enjoyed my pre-orgasmic state of arousal every bit as much as I had earlier enjoyed his.

I decided to essentially go for broke with the last task never suspecting the outcome that Eric had planned for me.

I reached behind my back unbuttoning and unzipping my leather skirt. I then pulled it down my waist and stepped completely out of it. There I stood wearing my tiny black with red stitching nylon bikini panties, and a matching black and red garter belt with four nylon straps attached to my black stockings.

I not only had the man's attention, but as soon as his wife turned towards me to see what her husband was staring at, I had her attention as well.

As casually as I could, I begin to try on skirts as if I were alone in a dressing room. As I pulled on and then pulled off each selection I would constantly adjust my stockings and garters and when ever my back was turned towards the couple I would use the forefingers of both hands to adjust the constant wedgie created by my lifting of one leg after another to get into the next skirt.

I believe that I was in the process of removing my third skirt when Eric turned the controller to a much higher setting causing me to buckle from the onslaught of devilish sensations invading my nether region.

I grabbed onto the skirt rack to keep from getting down on all fours as the entire area between my legs came alive.

With my free hand I grabbed my crotch in an effort to lessen the vibrations, but it only caused them to intensify. I am sure that to the couple watching me it looked like I was masturbating in front of them.

I guess that in reality, I was doing exactly that.

I continued to lean forward with my hand grasping my crotch as little moans of "uh, uh, uh" escaped through my tightened lips.

The couple stood perfectly still not saying a single word, mesmerized by my lewd display of sexual abandon.

It didn't take long at all for the first orgasmic spasm to shake my frame. My eyes closed tight and my head slunk forward as I gripped my crotch even tighter trying to stop my convulsions, but to no avail.

My knees opened and closed in perfect rhythm to the orgasm taking over my body.

I tried to turn away from them, but once I let go of the clothing rack, I found myself kneeling on the floor with one hand placed in front of me and the other still firmly ensconced between my legs. My buttocks shook suggestively within the ever-shrinking confines of my 'sassy' panties making it seem like I was riding a bucking bronco or performing a 'booty' dance.

Finally as the last orgasmic wave left my body, the woman came over and helped me up off of the floor. 

"God, that was undoubtedly the sexiest thing that I have ever seen," she said to me. I turned to look at her husband and immediately noticed the large liquid stain spreading across the front of his trousers.

The woman noticed her husband's stain and smiled at me.

"I think that I will take him into a dressing room and clean him off," she added and licked her lips for emphasis.

As they left to look for a dressing room, Eric walked back over to me. 

"You are a very naughty man." I said.

"And you are a very naughty woman." he replied placing my hand on the front of his pants. 

I wrapped my hand around his erection through the fabric and said, "I think that we might need to find a dressing room ourselves," licking my own lips for emphasis.

Eric replied with a simple nod while again pushing the button on the controller.