Sandra's body had put itself on hold as she walked through the house and out the side entrance. Within seconds of closing the door behind her she felt her sensuality awaking, and by the time she got to the sidewalk her cunt was hot and squishy. She headed off down the street, with no particular goal in mind except to go far enough so that walking home work be an ordeal.
Her outfit worked better than she had thought possible. The feeling between her legs was very strong, immediate and forceful in contrast to that produced by her previous off-the-rack leotards. Where those tended to place a large wad of rope-bound fabric rather gently against her cunt, this one, with its narrow crotch, dug in deep and applied a lot of pressure. The lace produced a delightfully scratchy feeling, a new and different sensation that she liked even though it came close to being downright painful.
More unbearable was the feeling on her nipples. She was lucky to be so well endowed for an oriental. She did tend towards being plump, but when she dieted the first place she lost weight was in her bust, and to lose that was to lose what little she had going for her. Not that she was ugly, but she considered herself to be a bit plain. Now her full bust-line was working for her, allowing the super tight fabric to hug her breasts tightly where a flat chested girl would feel very little. She was glad that she had not sewn any darts in the bust.
The pressure made her nipples push out hard, forcing them to strain against the little holes, which in turn gripped them tightly. She had to fight off a powerful urge to slip her hands inside her top and free the tender buds from the constant pinching they were enduring. It was everything she had hoped for.
It felt very strange to have her nipples being touched by the soft cotton shirt, and she glanced down in surprise a few times to see if someone or something was caressing her there. It was quite different than going braless. The cotton felt nice, but she wished that she had something more sensual to wear, and made a mental note to go shopping for something made of silk or nylon that would look acceptable over a leotard.
She focused on the feeling of the skirt on her bare legs, thinking at the same time about Lynn in Ginger's white pleated skirt. It had taken her a few minutes to comprehend just what it meant to wear it, but once she understood the implications she was very excited watching Lynn in it.
She had never seen a skirt like that. At first she thought it was just one of those skirts that older women wore, very uninteresting and not at all sexy. Then she took a closer look, and saw that the fabric was nothing like the plain polyester those were made of. She guessed that it was silk. It was kind of glossy, smooth and cool to the touch, with more body than a nylon knit. Almost like satin, but subdued. The pleats were really sharp, perhaps because of the thinness of the silk. And there were so many of them. The hem had swirled in ripples of movement as Lynn walked, the sight of it grabbing her attention, making Lynn seem almost like a goddess descended from Mt. Olympus.
She had been surprised at what Lynn had said about it, 'It feels really good. It reminds me of my body all the time.' It was kind of like how she felt about her special leotards, but where those provided plenty of stimulation right where it counted, a skirt like that would tease the wearer by touching her everywhere but there.
Now, despite the intense feelings coming from the leotard, she dwelt on the more gentle sensation of the nylon skirt caressing her legs, imagining Lynn feeling that and more all day Friday. She imagined Lynn being driven crazy by the constant stimulation on her bare ass and thighs, desperately wanting more but not able to get it. A remarkably clear picture of Lynn walking across campus in that skirt came to focus, and as she thought about it she felt a sudden twinge of pleasure from her clit as it peeked out to be met by the forest of lace.
She had felt envious of Lynn, a feeling that came up frequently for her in their relationship. Where she was plain, Lynn was pretty. She managed to get some attention by being vivacious and a little risqué, where-as all Lynn had to do was stand there and the men would flock around her like bees in a field of widelia. Lynn was the kind of girl men could show off on a date. She was the one they called on Friday afternoon when all of the other possibilities were exhausted, and her dates tended to be for dinner and movies.
But the sex afterward was great. She had made it a point two years ago to be really good in bed, and had read every "How To Be a Great Lover" book she could find. And a few porno books as well. Her dates were always amazed at her love of good sex, and many called her again just for that. She guessed that to some people that made her a slut, but she didn't think so. These days, sex was the expected culmination of an evening together. Nobody was ashamed of that. And out of bed she presented herself as the modest, nice little Japanese American girl that she was. She just faked it a bit when it came to innocence. But when she had the chance, when she really liked the guy she was with, she did everything she could to please him.
A dog surprised her, shattering the peacefulness of the night with its threatening bark. She stifled a scream, but her heart was sent racing. A chorus of others joined in, followed by stern shouts from their owners to be quiet. She was always amazed at how many dogs there were in her neighborhood. Tonight it sounded like there must be more dogs than people. She thought it incredible that anyone ever had their house broken into.
The disturbance distracted her from her building excitement, but she shifted her thoughts to Friday night's initiation and her arousal swept back, even stronger than before.
She had never in her life felt anything like that. She had gone out with some guys that liked to tickle her, but it was never so sexy. Long before they got down to serious love play they seemed to take fiendish delight in digging their fingers into her ribs and forcing her to squirm out of reach. It seemed so juvenile.
One guy had tickled her in bed, laying on top of her, his left hand pinning her arms up over her head as he lightly stoked her armpits with his right hand. It didn't last very long, as she howled with laughter and bucked so hard she almost threw him out of bed. It had given him a huge erection, and they immediately put it to good use.
Friday had been something else. It started out for her to be a wacky substitute for the traditional pledge spankings that sororities and fraternities were famous for. Then, to her complete surprise, she found herself getting really turned on by the feeling and the sight of the others enduring the same thing.
She was now three blocks from home, on a very quite little side street. She paused at a spot sheltered from the street lights and removed from close proximity to any houses. The recollection of Friday night had sent her to the brink, and she decided to stop here and let herself go.
When it had come down to the final round, her against Lynn, she had realized that to win would mean that Lynn would have to endure something like what she already enjoyed so much. Until then she had hung on only enough to be taken seriously, losing her rounds to have a chance at being the lucky victim. As the last round got underway she felt that she would win either way, but she was committed to outlasting Lynn, in order to see her, day after day, dressed in something provocative and arousing.
Her body was drenched in pleasure. Walking produced the best stimulation, but she could get almost as much by just rocking a bit, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Her nipples ached with the kind of pain that feels exquisitely good. All of her crotch, from her clit clear around to her asshole, was on fire from the tightness of the heavy spandex pulling up between her legs and the prickly feeling of the net lace. She looked down and saw with satisfaction that there was no outward indication that she was so frantically aroused.
Images of the initiation flipped by, of the other girls twitching in agony as they tried to endure the feeling of the icy-cold metal fingers. She recalled how intense the feeling had been, how many times she had almost succumbed, forcing herself to last a few more seconds, just a little more, fighting to see Lynn lose. She saw Lynn writhing, shuddering as she collapsed in the throws of orgasm. She replayed that moment again and again, feeling her clit scratching against the lace, watching Ginger stroking Lynn's cute little breasts, especially that moment when she flicked the icy fingertips across her nipples.
Now she was really hot. Still remembering the initiation, she blended in the memory of riding home on the bus Friday afternoon. She had been wearing one of her crotch wrapped leotards, and that combined with seeing Lynn in the pleated skirt had made her very horny. She recalled the stunningly handsome boy on the bus. She wished now that he was fucking her, pounding his big cock deep inside her. She had felt very uneasy at the way he stared at them, as if somehow he knew what she and Lynn were up to. Lynn had felt it too. Now she wished that he really did know, and that he was turned on by it.
Her orgasm came very slowly, like the stately opening of the locks on a canal. She shuddered, then in a second she shuddered again. Gradually it came out, bit by bit, building up to a final flood of pleasure so strong that she had to grab the fence next to the sidewalk to keep from falling down. She fought back the urge to scream. To her horror a yelp leaked out, and she couldn't help thinking that every adult for a block around knew that somewhere a woman was at the peak of ecstasy. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, so that were someone to see her they would think she was having a seizure.
Now that it was upon her she looked forward with anticipation and concern with what would happen next. Like most women, when she masturbated she usually stopped at this point, letting the orgasm fade away. Occasionally she would continue on, but she usually only experienced multiple orgasms when she was with a man. When she was lucky, her companion would stay hard for a while. She liked the feeling of being forced to endure him pounding his cock in and out of her twitching cunt, grinding his pelvis against her screaming clit, driving her on to peak after peak. She could never get too much that way. Even when her partner was stimulating her some other way she liked prolonged sex. Alone, she usually got what she wanted at the first peak.
This was one of the things that she liked most about her stimulating clothes. Even with a man she could ask him to stop, but here she had no choice. She was forced to endure it, on and on. This time it seemed to go on forever. She felt her arousal start to fade, then the tight crotch would dig in and off she would go again. It was maddening, almost a kind of torture, to be forced to go on for so long. But it was her choice, not anything anybody was doing to her against her will.
She had no idea how long the peak lasted. Ten seconds, thirty, a minute. Time just seemed to stand still. Finally it was over, her body drained, her knees almost too weak to walk. And when it was over she still had to walk all the way home with that lace covered spandex stuck up inside her.
She waited a few minutes, to catch her breath and to let the seething pulsations subside. Then she set off for home, every step sending sharp pains shooting through her. All she could think about was getting out of her outfit, amused at the same time by the tremendous satisfaction her escapade had brought.
Heading home, her thoughts turned again to the young man on the bus. He was so cute, like a teen rock idol. And it had been strange how both she and Lynn had felt something special about him, something sexy. And yet, for her the feeling had also been menacing, foreboding, as if some great secret was lurking just beneath his casual exterior.
Suddenly she was struck with the thought of what a guy might wear to experience was she was. After all, she thought, what better secret could there be than the one she was experiencing tonight? She found the thought of the young man on the bus experiencing the same kind of sexual enjoyment as she was tantalizing, and set about thinking up ways it could be done.
She began by deciding that it would be best for a man to wear baggy trousers to conceal both his erection and whatever it was that was causing it. This is one area where, she realized completely for the first time, women have a distinct advantage over men. The only giveaway that a woman is aroused is her erect nipples, and these days that was such a common sight that nobody gave it too much thought. And, she could hide whatever dingus she used to stimulate her crotch by wearing a skirt, like she was now.
Next he would need something that stroked his cock, rubbing over the tip, driving him mad with pleasure. Some silky ladies panties might feel good. She knew that men often masturbated with them. Like most girls, the idea seemed revolting when she had first learned of it, but after playing with guys who liked that sort of thing she had decided that it was a pretty good idea.
If they were tight they wouldn't rub enough. She decided that they needed to be baggy. Simple, everyday nylon briefs. Of course, the new style with the cotton crotch wouldn't do. The thought of a guy walking down the street with his cock swinging back and forth across the soft nylon made her cunt all tingly again.
Thinking about the panties made her think about a slip. An expensive, silky one that felt so nice to wear. She thought it sad that men in our culture couldn't wear anything like a skirt. At least not in public. But what about in private. An image of that handsome guy on the bus and her, alone somewhere, flashed in her mind. She would dress him in a slip, a full length slip, or a really silky nightgown. With his hands tied behind his back, and something like a jock strap made of leather with a short sort of pipe that held his dick up high, so that it stuck straight out and rubbed against the nylon. He would be like that graduate student in oceanography, the one who liked her to rub his cock with her panties. She would make him walk around, doing things like sweeping the floor, folding laundry, yes, folding her lingerie, making him endure the feeling of the nylon stroking the tip of his cock for hours. And if any come should leak out onto the nylon, which it surely would, she would spank him.
She was amazed at her perverse imagination, but she found the idea of forcing a guy to endure something like that terribly exciting.
Nearing home, she was determined to pursue these thoughts.
She had recently seen a lovely pair of tap pants that had caught her attention because the entire bottom half was nothing but lace. She had considered buying a pair, despite their high price, because she thought that the lace would feel nice rubbing against her cunt. She had decided not to only because they were so baggy and long wasted, probably because the designer really didn't want the lace pulling up tight the way she did. Now she thought about them on a man, loose like the nylon briefs, only his dick would be rubbing over the lace. That ought to produce something like she felt now, only without the pressure. Just the scratchy lace brushing delicately across the tip of his cock, scraping it, producing the same kind of delightful pain that she had been feeling now for almost an hour. Enough to keep him constantly erect, not quite enough to make him want it to stop, and not enough to bring him off too fast.
She loved to make her men wait. She knew she was very good at it. They acted like it was torture while it lasted, but they always thanked her afterwards. She recalled that graduate student, the way she had tied him to his bed and teased him with her panties for such a long time. It was not their first time together, and she had worn some very nice panties just for him. Black, very sheer, just one layer cut so that there was no seam at all in the crotch. And a shiny nylon skirt, the same one she had on now, with a billowy white silk top that was just sheer enough to reveal the dark skin of her nipples. She had even borrowed a pair of pumps with four inch heels from her mother's closet, those being hard to come by these days.
She had made it a point to mention how little she had on during dinner, which had been at a very dark steak house. She had whispered in his ear how good her outfit felt on, and enjoyed watching him squirm. Over desert she had slipped her hand under the long tablecloth and started rubbing his crotch, whereupon he slid his hand up her skirt and tickled her cunt through the panties. It was a real panic, she remembered, the two of them diddling each other and trying to keep a straight face. She had especially enjoyed the feeling of the silk blouse brushing against her nipples as her body quivered from the tickling she was getting.
When they got to his place she surprised him by pulling some old nylons out of her bag and announcing that she wanted him naked and tied down on his big brass bed. He obliged, and she spent the next hour rubbing his cock over her panties while still fully clothed. She even kept her high heels on, in hopes he would enjoy it. He did, so much that she thought his screams of passion would have the neighbors calling the police.
The sight of him bound and helpless gave her a tremendous feeling of power. She sat astride him and rubbed his cock over her nylon clad cunt, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, stopping often so that he couldn't come. Then she sat on his face and told him that he would get no more until he satisfied her. The look and smell of her panties in his face, with her sill inside them, must have driven him crazy. The feeling of him licking and sucking her clit through the sheer nylon was much better than she had thought it would be, and her orgasm shook her like a jackhammer.
Then she went back and sat on his thighs, facing him so that he could watch her at work, lifted her skirt, and went to work rubbing his cock against her nylon covered clit, stopping whenever he got too close until he was clearly in agony, then mercifully letting him go all the way. He went wild, and she came two more times before he finally did, coating her lovely panties with huge globs of cum. The next morning she gave him the panties before going home, with instructions that he was only to enjoy them alone, never with another woman.
She was really turned on now, and felt that special glow that signaled on orgasm on its way. She continued her reverie, turning her mind loose to dream up other ways a man could pleasure himself in public.
Thinking about a man's cock bobbing around inside loosely fitting panties gave her another idea. Panties, cut like briefs, but with rows of stiff nylon lace sewn on the inside. That ought to be a little more intense, if not actually painful, and she reasoned that the pain would be something like what she felt now, on her cunt and her nipples. Agonizing, intense, but mixed with pleasure such that he enjoyed enduring it.
Her body started to quiver, like it had near the dark side street. She looked around and saw that she was only a few houses down the street from her parent's. She walked on, slipped quietly through the side gate and into the dark recess of their back yard. There, hidden from view, she slipped her hand under her crop top and started to fondle her nipples. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The tight nylon strap between her legs bore down on her clit, and it throbbed with excitement. She thought again of her male victim, with his hands tied behind his back while she had her way with him.
The skirt! The idea just popped into her head and she started to quiver as the thought came into focus. She would dress him in a skirt just like Lynn had worn, white pleated silk, cold to the touch, the sharp edges of the pleats scraping across the head of his cock with every move he made. She would make him wear it for hours. To really drive him crazy she would stand behind him, slip her hand down the waist in front, grasp his cock and swish it back and forth, dragging it across the pleats. She would be naked, and rub up against his ass, feeling the pleats tickling the top of her cunt, feeling her lips open, wishing that the pleats could scrape against her clit. She would hold them there, not letting him come until the gentle touch of the pleated silk had heated them both to a frenzy.
Oblivious of her surroundings, Sandra reached down with her free hand and pressed her wrap skirt against her crotch, still fondling her burning nipples with the other hand. She was startled at how it felt, sliding over the narrow band of spandex that covered her clit while touching the exposed lips on either side. We was amazed at how deep the furrow was where the spandex had worked itself into her, how swollen the lips were where they oozed out around the edges. She slid her fingers up and felt the hard nub of her clit, and started to rub the slippery skirt fast and hard over that spot, her thoughts returning to her bizarre fantasy.
He ached to come, but she would hold him just short of release by stroking his cock so that most of the time it barely touched the pleats. She would grip his cock tightly at the base and stop at the end of each stroke, a technique that should give him more pleasure than he could bear while depriving him of his orgasm. Every now and then she would cut loose with a flurry of strokes, and he would moan, even scream, pleading with her to stop. But she would keep him there, teetering on the brink, waiting, waiting for the release that remained tantalizingly beyond his reach.
Finally, when she couldn't stand the delicate tickling she was getting from the skirt any longer, she would untie him, take off the skirt, and pull him down onto the floor, on top of her. There he would ram his cock into her, huge, purple, so swollen that it looked like some wild, monstrous beast, as if it would explode any second into a million little pieces. He mounted her with supreme strength, and fucked her, hard, very hard, taking out his revenge by ravaging her cunt with his gigantic tool.
Balls of fire exploded in her head. Her body heaved and shook so hard that she actually hopped up and down. Her knees lost their strength, and she collapsed on the lawn, biting her hand to hold back her screams. Again and again her body shook with convulsions, her hips rising and falling. As before, there was no way to stop the pressure on her clit. Nor did she want it to stop. She wanted it to go on and on. She held tight to the image of the rock idol on the bus fucking her endlessly, driving her to peak after peak.
She came to laying on the lawn, listening to the chorus of crickets. Faint sounds of a familiar TV commercial floated through the air. She sat up, and felt at once the fiery pain coming from her crotch. She had to get out of her outfit, but first she had to get to her bedroom. Past her parents. She stood up, and caught herself on a lawn chair as her wobbly knees almost buckled up again. Gingerly she brushed herself off, and when she was sure there was no sign of her erotic adventure she staggered toward the back door.
As she went inside she resolved to wear the same outfit to school the next day, and take along a plain black leotard she could change into when she couldn't stand it any longer. The idea of suffering silently alongside Lynn felt wonderfully wicked.