I lifted out one of the tissue parcels and laid it on the bench beside me. I opened the package, smoothing out the crinkly paper with the flat of my fingers. I unfolded them and laid them down on the bench. The knickers inside were black with fine lace detailing around the edge.
I put out a finger and touched the silk. It felt warm and fluid under my fingertip and seemed to gleam in the light. I picked them up and brought them to my face. The material was soft against my skin. My cock was rigid. I longed to strip off my clothes and step into them. No doubt I’d have to rearrange my crotch before I could pull them fully up. Then I’d stroke the tip of my cock through the silky fabric, working myself up to a pitch of arousal and then watch the dark, spreading stain of pre-come desecrate them.
Without thinking about it I slid down the zip of my trousers and slipped my hand inside. I began to rub myself through my boxers. Even though they hadn’t been worn, I held the panties to my face, drinking in the alien, almost human and quintessentially feminine smell.
I heard Ms Walker before I saw her. There was a sharp intake of breath behind me and the sound of the door slamming shut. I turned. She seemed to be petrified in mid-stride. Her mouth was open, her eyes round.
With my hand in my pants and her undies against my face there was no way I could claim it was all an innocent mistake. I dropped the knickers onto the bench.
‘I’m really sorry …’
‘Frankly, David, I’d find that easier to believe if you weren’t still playing with yourself.’
I pulled my hand out of my fly and zipped up.
‘I wasn’t … I’d stopped. I just forgot to take my hand out … This must look awful …’ I ground to a halt.
‘Let’s just say I won’t be nominating you for employee of the month.’ She walked over to me. ‘I’m so disappointed in you, David.’
I could feel shame burning my cheeks. I couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘It isn’t what it looks like.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it because what it looks like is that you’re a nasty little pervert with a knicker fetish. I bet you’re one of those sad men who goes around in a balaclava at the dead of night and steals underwear off washing lines, aren’t you?’ She was standing with her hands on her hips. Her eyes were blazing with anger, and with the advantage of height and five-inch heels she towered over me. I felt like a naughty schoolboy being put in his place by the headmistress and the thought caused an instantaneous reaction in my crotch. I covered it with my jacket, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
‘No, it’s not like that at all, I promise.’ Sweat prickled in my armpits.
‘Then perhaps you’d care to explain because, right now, I can’t think of a good reason not to march you down to Human Resources and have you fired.’ Her voice was hard, her anger obvious.
‘Well … I don’t know where to start. This is all
such a mess.’
‘It certainly is. Your only option now is to tell me the truth otherwise you’ll be getting yourself into a lot more trouble. Not just Human Resources but the police as well.’
A hot wave of fear crashed over me.
‘Please, I’ll tell you everything.’ I looked down at the floor, too ashamed to meet her gaze. ‘You’re right, I do have an underwear fetish, but not in the way you think.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘This is so difficult for me … I like to wear the underwear myself.’
I heard her inhale sharply. I was pretty certain that my face was the colour of a baboon’s arse. I daren’t look up.
‘What are you saying? You’re a transsexual? A woman in a man’s body, that sort of thing?’
‘No, I’m straight. I suppose I’m what they call a cross-dresser. I love the way the clothes make me feel. I can’t explain it, I just do.’ It was agony having to explain my shameful preferences, but I had to convince her I was harmless. I was resigned to getting the sack now, but maybe I could persuade her not to involve the police.
‘How does it make you feel? And please do me the courtesy of looking at me when you’re talking.’
Reluctantly I looked up and met her gaze. Her expression seemed to have softened a little, but she was clearly still angry.
‘It makes me feel … I don’t know … utterly transformed. Somehow it makes me feel softer, more sensual. More whole in a way. And utterly vulnerable, submissive even. I’ve never tried to put it into words before.’
Her eyes never left my face, her expression unreadable.
‘And do you go out like that?’
‘No, never! Not that I haven’t wanted to, I just don’t have the nerve. It’s strictly a private activity.’
‘Until tonight …’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. When I realised you’d left your stuff behind I just couldn’t help myself.’
‘So what … you were planning to put them on?’
‘No, I promise. I wanted to but I respect you far too much for that.’
‘But you got carried away?’
I nodded.
‘I bet you’ve got a whole wardrobe full at home, haven’t you?’ Her eyes were shining, and for the first time I thought I saw something other than anger there, curiosity maybe and, perhaps, even interest.
‘Yes, I have, a few things anyway.’
‘And your girlfriends don’t mind?’ She took off her coat and leather gloves and put them down on the bench.
‘I … I’ve never told any of my girlfriends. I told you, it’s strictly a private activity.’
‘But you’d like to be able to share it, wouldn’t you?’
I nodded.
‘And it makes you feel submissive, you said?’
‘That’s right.’
I looked up at her beautiful face. She began to smile.
‘I bet you’re the sort of man who fantasises dressing up for a powerful woman, aren’t you? Maybe she even forces you to do it? Yes, I can picture it; she makes you put on her undies and with each garment you put on you feel more helpless and vulnerable. By the time you’re fully dressed you’re utterly in her power.’ There was dark dot of colour on the apple of each of her cheeks. I could see her chest rising and falling as she breathed.
‘Yes, yes, I do. But I know it’s just a fantasy. I bet women like that don’t even exist.’
‘You think so?’ She laughed. She turned and walked over to the door. I watched her perfect arse undulate as she crossed the room. She locked the door.
‘I’d like you to undress, please.’ She came back over to me and sat down on the bench.
‘What?’ I stood rooted to the spot.
‘Now!’
‘Yes, Ms Walker.’ I shrugged off my jacket and let it fall on the floor.
‘And fold your clothes, please. Standards.’
‘Yes, Ms Walker.’ I picked up the jacket and folded it carefully then laid it down on the bench. I unbuttoned my shirt with trembling fingers, conscious of her eyes drinking in every detail. I pulled the tails out of my trousers and fiddled with the cuff buttons.
‘You’re quite slender for a man, aren’t you? And there’s no hair on your chest. Do you shave?’
‘No, it’s natural.’ I folded my shirt.
‘Mmmm, it suits you. I bet you make quite a good woman.’ Her voice was deep and dreamy.
‘Thank you, Ms Walker.’ For some reason I was filled with irrational pride. I sat down on the bench to undo my laces. I took off my trainers and socks. I stood up and undid my trousers and slid them down. Already, I had the beginnings of an erection and my instinct was to cover my crotch, but I wanted to obey her and to obey her completely. I removed my trousers, trying to pretend that doing so in front of your manager was the most normal thing in the world and my burgeoning erection was of no consequence.
When I’d finished folding my trousers I straightened up, reluctant to remove the last garment but fairly certain that she expected me to. Seeing my hesitation she gestured with a fingertip for me to remove them. As I sli
d my boxers down over my hips my face burned from a combination of shame and arousal.
Ms Walker reached into the carrier bag and began to shake out the parcels, tearing the crinkly paper. She found the suspender belt and held it out to me. When I took the filmy garment from her I noticed that her hand was shaking.
‘Put it on.’
I obeyed. The suspender belt was deep and boned and, as I fastened it, I realised that it had the same effect as a waspie corset, pinching and shaping my waist. My chest was heaving. My armpits prickled with sweat. My cock swelled.
She picked up a pair of stockings and opened the packet, slitting the Sellotape with her long red fingernails. She handed me a stocking and I sat down to put it on, rolling it down to the foot and then pulling it up my leg slowly, as I had seen women do.
‘You’ve obviously done that before.’ Her voice was throaty and deep.
‘Once or twice.’
‘What size are your feet?’
‘Nine.’
‘Good, same as me. Hang on …’ She bent down and removed her shoes. She pushed them across the floor to me and I put them on. They were still warm and, for some reason, stepping into them seemed like the most intimate act. My cock lengthened. Silently she handed me a pair of knickers and I stood up to put them on. I held onto the bench with one hand and stepped into them feeling unstable but wonderful in her high heels. The knickers felt warm and sensuous against my crotch. I had to do quite a bit of repositioning to get my excited cock completely covered but there was nothing I could do to conceal my erection.
She rummaged through the packages and handed me a black bra. When I’d got it on the cups bagged and drooped, and for a moment I was utterly ashamed of having nothing to fill them. Ms Walker picked up a pair of French knickers and rolled them into a ball then stood up and fitted it inside one of the cups, fiddling with it until she was satisfied. The physical contact, though utterly practical and perfunctory, was divine. My cock tingled. She repeated the process on the other side then stepped back to look at me. She smiled.
Ms Walker began to unbutton her dress. She was wearing a lilac dress in a fine floral print, which was one of my favourites. It buttoned all the way down the front and clung to her figure so perfectly that I could see the outline of each individual breast and the womanly curve of her belly. It took me a second to register that she was taking off her dress because she wanted me to put it on and another second to realise that would mean I’d get to see her in her underwear.
When she’d finally got it undone she slid it off like a coat and held it out to me. I reached out to take it but the sight of her underwear seemed to paralyse me and my hand hung in the air, halfway to its destination, as if I’d been petrified. She was wearing a burgundy lace bra much like my own except that I could clearly see her nipples, dark and hard through the sheer fabric. Her suspender belt reached from her waist to the bottom of her hips and was the same colour as her bra. Over it, she wore a pair of transparent French knickers. I could clearly see her pubic hair, neatly trimmed into a small triangle above her slit. I took the dress and put it on. It took ages to do up the buttons because my fingers were trembling and clumsy.
When I’d finished Ms Walker opened her handbag and took out her make-up. I stood motionless as she applied lipstick and blusher to my face, hardly daring to breathe.
‘Now, let me look at you.’ She took a step back. ‘Well, your eyebrows need plucking, but you’ll do. In fact you make a very passable woman. Davina.’
The use of the feminine version of my name filled me with shame and pride. My cock was rigid, making the front of my dress stick out. She walked over to me and flicked its tip then laughed as it wobbled. I was tingling all over. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing to attention. Liquid shivers of excitement slid up and down my spine.
I could see her chest heaving. A dark flush of arousal stained her throat and décolletage. Her lips were berry-dark.
‘I want you to get on your knees and take off my knickers.’ I didn’t need telling twice though it took me a second to work out how to bend in my high heels. When I was finally on my knees, looking up at her, I knew this was what I had been born for. I gazed up at her, so full of tenderness and surrender that I didn’t want to break the spell.
‘Take them off, I said.’ Her voice was full of urgency and hunger with an edge of irritation that made me immediately ashamed for not obeying instantly. I reached up and hooked my fingers under the waistband of her sheer panties and slid them over her hips. I inhaled sharply when the full glory of her pussy came into view. Her plump lips were bare – waxed or shaved, I wondered? I could see the slit between them disappearing down between her legs like the road to paradise.
‘Now sit down here, on the end of the bench.’
I instantly complied. She leant forwards and unbuttoned my dress from the waist down. She pulled the front of my knickers down and lifted out my cock and balls, delicately, as if handling an heirloom. She straddled me and lowered herself onto my lap, reaching down with one hand to position my cock. I felt its tip up against her moist pussy then she sat down on it and I slid into her millimetre by delicious millimetre.
She put a hand on each of my shoulders and bent her head to kiss me. Her lips were soft, her mouth tasted sweet. I could feel her breasts pressing up against my chest and her hair brushing my skin. She slid her mouth down my neck and kissed my throat. I shivered all over.
‘Take off my bra.’
I reached round behind her and unhooked it then slid it down over her arms. I bent my head to kiss her nipples. She gasped as my mouth made contact. Her nipple was hard in my mouth. I gripped it with my teeth and ran my tongue across the tip. Every time I did it, I felt her body shudder and she let out a low, deep moan of appreciation.
Her cunt was hot and wet and tight. I was in up to the balls. She bounced up and down on my lap, sliding up and down my cock. The bones in the suspender belt were digging into my waist. I was beginning to sweat. The dress clung to my back. I was covered in goose pimples. Blood pounded in my ears.
She grabbed my face with both hands and tilted back my head for another kiss. I surrendered, opening my mouth and closing my eyes. Her hair fell in my face, scented and warm. I slid my hands down to her hips. I could feel her muscles contracting as she used her thigh muscles to move up and down on my cock.
Her skin was warm against mine. There was a soft little hiss of friction as our stockings rubbed together. I was tingling all over. Tension built in my groin. She used her muscles to squeeze my cock and I shivered all over at the delicious surprise of it.
She was rolling her hips back and forth. Arching and then rounding her back to rub her clit against my pubes. Her breathing had grown noisy and erratic. Her lips were swollen and dark. Her face was filmed with sweat. Her hair was damp and clinging to her forehead.
I held onto her hips and rocked my pelvis, meeting her thrusts. I could feel her round, creamy arse against my thighs. She was heavy, solid and powerful. There was nothing fragile or delicate about her. I didn’t have to worry about hurting her. This was raw, urgent, animal sex. No holds barred.
I looked into her eyes. They were shining with intensity and arousal. Her lips were slightly parted and I could feel warm breath rushing out between her teeth. Her cheeks were pink. The flushing on her throat and chest had developed into a vivid red rash. Somehow it seemed to symbolise her loss of control and seeing it made my cock tingle and my arousal rocket into a higher gear.
Sweat ran down my face and into my eyes. The bra wires were stabbing me in the chest. Beneath my stockings my legs felt clammy and prickly. Her hair fell around her face and shoulders, like Medusa’s serpents. A strand clung to her lips. She bent back her head and moaned at the ceiling.
Her breasts bounced and shook as she rode me. Her thighs were slippery against mine. She ground her crotch against mine. She pushed down hard on my shoulders for leverage. Delicious, watery shivers slid down my spine. My crotch was on fire.
Heat and excitement spread through me in a rush.
She was sobbing and groaning, bouncing on my cock like a woman possessed. I could feel her muscles growing tighter as her orgasm approached. A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts and disappeared into the thumbprint of her belly button. Her make-up had softened and smudged. She’d never looked more beautiful.
I ran my hands up and down the curve of her back. Her skin was hot and damp under my fingers and silky soft. I could hear obscene squelching noises as her crotch moved against mine. I kissed her neck, sliding my lips along her throat, sucking and licking her hot skin. My breath gushed out in short, noisy bursts. I could feel the insistent beat of arousal thumping in my groin. My balls were hard and tight. My cock was rigid. My nipples were erect and sensitive beneath my bra. The silky knickers padding out the cups felt warm and damp against my skin.
Ms Walker was practically screaming now. Her breasts swung. Her arse banged against my thighs. Her throat was stained scarlet from my lipstick. Her hair was wild and damp.
I put my arms around her then brought my hands up to grip her shoulders, pulling her close. I pulled down on her shoulders, bringing up my hips to meet her thrusts. I could feel her warm breath on my neck. She was shouting so loud it hurt my ears.
I was fit to burst but I held back, willing myself not to come until she had. She was riding me hard, hips pistoning rhythmically. Her thighs slapped loudly against mine as she fucked me. Her whole body was quivering. She pressed down on my shoulders. Her fingernails dug into me, but I didn’t care.
All that mattered to me, all that existed for me, was her cunt and her orgasm. She was howling, a high, animal wail of pleasure in extremis. She began to rock her hips back and forth, rubbing her crotch against mine. Her hair tickled my skin. She arched her back and extended her neck and I knew she was coming at last. She trembled in my arms. She let out a single high note of satisfaction.
That was all it took for me to tip over the edge into my own climax. I curled my spine, thrusting my cock deep into her cunt. Pleasure flooded over me like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of me.
Nexus Confessions: Volume Three Page 6