More Stories to Make You Blush (13 page)

Jane and he had spent their childhood and teenage years side by side, almost their entire lives. Matthew had taught her to play hockey and baseball, and she tried to return the favor by introducing him to single women. The results were always a disaster. The women were usually very nice, but there was always something not quite right. He could not bear for them to have expectations of him. The very fact of going out to dinner with someone who wanted a steady relationship, made him so uncomfortable that he didn't know what to do. He felt cornered, as if he was supposed to behave in a way that was not natural for him. All those things you had to say and do were way too complicated! He had tried explaining that to Jane, but she was stubborn.

However, her hockey was improving like wildfire. Not bad, for a girl! He had trouble seeing her as anything else but a sort of tomboy, the way she was as a little girl and teenager. She was quite pretty, but her athletic skills took away her femininity. Anyway, he had never really paid attention to her charms, preferring to tell her his impressions of her various boyfriends. He loved her as a brother would. If only he could meet a girl like her! Well, almost like her.

This is what he was thinking about when the dryer stopped. He hurriedly threw his clothes into his basket and went home. His recent reflections had made his heart a little heavy. When he got home he changed to go play baseball. Jane was supposed to arrive any minute.

* * *

She brought him back home at two in the afternoon. They were both starved after so much fresh air and exercise. He suggested making a quick lunch and then going to eat in the park.

“I'll fold your laundry while you make something to feed me with.”

“No, leave it; I'll do it when I get back!”

“I've seen all your undershorts and socks before, you know!”

All that was left was to find something to drink. He was taking out a bottle of apple juice when he sensed a presence behind him. Jane was standing at the kitchen door with a superb pink satin bra hanging from the end of her finger. She was looking at it ironically.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

“No! Where did you find that?”

“In your laundry basket, you little sneak! Come on, tell me! You're not going to start hiding your affairs from me, they're way too rare!”

“But I swear … Wait, show me.”

He took the bra and examined it from all angles.

“Stop playing dumb; whose is it?”

“Just be patient!”

He went to the chair to get the famous panties, then remembered he had put them somewhere else a few days before. He came back and quickly realized they matched the bra.

“This is a bit much.”

“If you're not going to tell me what's really going on, just invent something.”

“Last Saturday when I got home from the laundromat I found this in my stuff. I was going to take it back this morning, but I forgot. And now, this!”

“Sure, sure,” she said skeptically.

“I swear! It's pretty incredible that I've ended up with both. It's a pretty strong coincidence!”

“It sure is. Since you say it's a coincidence.”

That is where the discussion ended. He was not going to bend over backwards to make her believe him; she could think what she wanted. And he was not going to admit to her that he had chosen to keep the panties. The decision had been made without him really noticing.

The determining incident had occurred on Wednesday or Thursday; he did not remember. He was watching television, as on any normal day, when his hand strayed to the satin panties. He imagined what he would do if the beautiful dark-haired woman of his dreams, owner of the panties, arrived at his door to claim them.

Little by little the story became more elaborate. The stranger was not satisfied with just taking back her property and leaving—far from it! Without a word, and to the rhythm of some inaudible music, she took off her clothes in front of him with precise and decisive gestures, charged with sensuality. Wearing only a bra, she put on the pretty panties, while looking at Matthew with an inviting smile. But she didn't stop there! Seizing the lacy bit of clothing, she pulled it up over her round hips, her slim fingers sliding beneath the soft fabric, moving lower and lower. He was hypnotized by the long fingernails disappearing into the black bush that he had noticed earlier, guessing at her movements over her damp flesh. Finally, so he could fully admire the show, the beauty spread her legs and, pushing her panties aside, exposed her glistening sex whose sweet juices Matthew could clearly smell. Then with a skillful finger she traced the contours of her full lips, applying a firm pressure before slipping inside the silky folds.

That was when Matthew had undone his pants, letting them fall around his ankles. He picked up the provocative panties, brushing their silky softness over his belly and thighs, still watching his seductress in the throes of pleasure. Without realizing it he had started stroking himself, and kept on going until the panties were soaked, and he emerged from his daydream, panting and more frustrated than ever.

After that there was no question of him getting rid of the panties. He washed them carefully, almost lovingly. Their place of honor moved from his favorite chair to his sheets. They were his little secret. And now there was the bra, too.

Jane was still convinced that he was involved in some new affair that his legendary shyness prevented him from talking about. She twirled through the apartment, holding the bra out at arm's length with a jeering smile on her face.

“So are we eating, or what?”

* * *

That evening Matthew decided not to join Jane and the other guys on the hockey team who were going out dancing after the game. It was already late, and he had drunk his Saturday night quota of beer. Not surprisingly, Jane joked that he had a secret rendezvous and did not want to share the juicy details with his friends. The others fired questions at him until he finally got away, annoyed with Jane, but not tired enough to go to bed right away. He turned on the radio and started reading his magazine.

He flopped down on the sofa and felt something underneath him. He reached under his buttocks and found the magnificent bra. In the state he was in that was all he needed. He held it out delicately in front of him, trying to imagine the size and shape of the breasts that would comfortably fit inside it. He envisaged them as quite small but firm, with nipples the color of milk chocolate stretching the fine material. He went to get the panties and, putting them on the sofa next to the bra, tried to imagine the body of the woman whom the silky ensemble would suit.

She was slim, quite petite, with subtle rather than pronounced curves. Oh, he did know her a little, after all! At any rate her image was becoming clearer. She was the type to wear very elegant, feminine clothes, and high heels that would make her seem taller. She usually wore her hair up in a loose chignon, which it would give him the greatest pleasure to undo, freeing her long black locks.

She appeared before him again, teasing him, her deft fingers hovering over the buttons of her dress. Was she going to make up her mind or not? All of a sudden,
voilà!
She unveiled her throat, then her chest in the pink brassiere whose color contrasted with her mat complexion. The tight-fitting dress slipped down slowly, until her flat stomach was exposed down to the fine lace trimming the edges of the tiny panties.

She had slipped on long fine stockings, which she did not take off right away. For awhile now, Matthew had been stroking his cock, which was standing at attention and admiring the show. His movements became increasingly insistent. The young woman pinched each breast through the thin fabric, then freed them, offering them up to Matthew's hands and lips. He felt her flesh, firm and soft, just as he had imagined. He kissed her breasts, then avidly licked and sucked the erect nipples. The long hair tumbled down over the admirable chest, giving the woman an even more unreal and diaphanous look. She was with him on the sofa now, her slim legs on either side of him. He wanted to caress the fine waist and the small buttocks, but she pulled away and returned to her previous position. Turning, she let her magnificent hair fall down her back so Matthew could admire the other side of her body, her pretty hands wandering over her inviting buttocks. Facing him again, she got down on her hands and knees and moved slowly towards him with a feline stance. He tried to record each detail in his memory: pink panties and bra, silk stockings and high heels, spectacular hair, ravishing smile—until she buried her head between his legs, letting her pale full lips take over from the man's too-familiar hand. She nibbled the hardened cock, then curled her tongue around it, before sucking it all the way into her mouth. She sucked more vigorously and quickly. Then she stopped suddenly, taking a moment to caress him with her hand. When Matthew had recovered some control, she started her relentless sucking again with even more force. She played this little game a few times, bringing Matthew to the brink of ecstasy, then calming him down again so as better to torture him. He tried to last as long as he could, then finally closed his eyes and let himself go in her welcoming mouth. Refusing to rouse himself, Matthew fell asleep on the sofa, a milky little puddle on his stomach.

* * *

After this evening stranger and stranger things started to happen. First of all, Matthew started getting hard-ons at any time of day. The mere thought of the satin bra and panties and—presto!—he would feel like a stallion ready to jump any mare in sight. This phase lasted two weeks. If he did not meet someone soon and release some of his tension he was going to explode. He masturbated almost every day; was he going through second adolescence? Worse, he seemed totally unable to control himself. In the shower, in the morning, before going to sleep at night, sometimes even in broad daylight—he would sneak off to the bathroom to quickly relieve his pent-up lust.

Another unusual event: one evening while sipping a beer with his friends, he went off on his own to talk to a girl sitting alone at the bar. In his own defense it must be said that he'd had a few beers too many, and the prospect of going home alone depressed him beyond reason. Thus, he went into action, and it worked! After several hours of quite pleasant conversation she invited him home with her. She was tall and blonde, not particularly pretty, but Matthew made an exception, just this once. He needed a woman, then and there. So what if she was not the goddess of his dreams! Maybe she would make up for it in other ways. She gave him a beer (as he'd hoped), kissed him, and let her hand go straight where it wanted to go. And she was not disappointed! The effect was immediate. Like a spring he got so hard he felt very uncomfortable. She encouraged him to get undressed, and she did the same in front of him, after which she asked him to come into her bedroom.

Matthew did not need to be asked a second time. At last a change from his calloused hand! She sucked him briefly, but didn't seem to like it too much. Maybe she wanted to do something else? She got on top of him and slid him into her. In a single night Matthew would make love in more positions than in his entire life. She had incredible imagination and flexibility! The girl also seemed just as sex-starved as he, and they went at it wildly, making each other come over and over until they fell asleep in total exhaustion.

When Matthew woke up he did not know where he was, and he had a terrible headache. The pain got considerably worse when he saw the girl lying asleep in bed next to him. His first reflex was to get up and get dressed as quickly as he could. What had happened? Was he so desperate that he'd picked this girl up and gone home with her? Scenes from the night before came back. She wasn't so bad after all; but still! Did she spend each weekend night picking up guys?

Matthew shuddered. He was ready to leave. What was he supposed to do? Leave his phone number somewhere? But he was not sure he wanted to see her again. Still, he couldn't just leave like a burglar after the night they'd spent together. Suddenly, on a little table he saw what looked like a phone bill, with a name, address, and number that he supposed were hers. He scribbled them down on a note pad and put the piece of paper in his pocket. He left her a short note: “Sorry, I had to go early. Thanks for the great night. I'll call you.” “You prick!” he said to himself. “You could at least wake her up!” But he could also
not
wake her up, and that is what he finally decided. It was Saturday, he had a lot to do, and frankly, he did not have the strength to lie out loud. He left the apartment like a coward, trying to convince himself that she had probably expected this sort of behavior from him.

He was running late in his Saturday washing schedule, but still he stopped home and took a quick shower before gathering his clothes and heading to the laundromat.

* * *

He headed straight for “his” washing machines. Since it was still early for the average mortal, most of them were not in use and the place was fairly quiet. He was just about to put his things inside one of the washers when he saw something inside, way at the back. He took it out and saw it was a silk stocking, like his imaginary lover was wearing on her last visit. He rolled it in a ball and stuck it in his jeans pocket. What luck! At this rate he would soon have an entire woman's wardrobe! When his clothes were ready for the dryer, he put the stocking in the pile. When the clothes were dry he would take it home with him.

When he got back to his apartment he reached in his laundry basket and took out the stocking. Very soft, black, without any runs that he could see. He let it glide between his fingers, and almost immediately felt his cock grow painfully hard. He put the new item with the two others and allowed himself to daydream again. Would Sandy, the girl he had spent the night with, be able to wear this pretty underwear? Maybe he could ask her to put them on, just to see. He found it a bit strange to be masturbating while thinking of a girl who perhaps did not even exist, though his little fantasy was not harming anyone. The only risk of getting Sandy to wear the clothes was that it might destroy his image of the unreal woman who haunted his imagination. But he was ready to take that risk.