Will Work for Panties Ch. 06

Patti was right. I had never felt anything so exquisite as the feel of Madeline’s fingers through the silk panties. That was when it first started dawning on me. It was the realization that Madeline was playing into my most private fantasies. She was orchestrating this seduction tailor made to my fetish and my desires. In doing so she had claimed control of me, and I was glad to give it to her.

Okay Madeline, I’m yours. What do you want me to do?

“That feels so good,” I admitted. I reciprocated by caressing her panties in the same way.

“Bon. Very good. I am glad that you like the feel. Now will you do something for me?”

“Yes. Of course. Anything.”

She placed her hands up on my shoulders and applied the slightest downward pressure. I sank to my knees in front of her and got a beautiful view of the champagne colored panties she was wearing. Madeline wrapped her fingers around the back of my head and without saying a word pulled me gently in to the crevasse between her legs.

“Now, slowly mon amore,” she said as she let her sheer robe fall to her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

She guided my lips to the smooth fabric of her panties. I pressed them lightly against her. Once, then twice, then three times I kissed her softly and gently as she said I should.

“Oui. Très bon, mon amore,” she sighed in her native tongue. “Très bon.”

I braced her hips with my hands beneath the sheer black robe. I slid my forefingers under the hip of her panties and held her lightly while kissing her through the garment with longer and longer contact. I breathed in deeply the smell of her body that came from that very sensitive area. The warmth of her soft flesh came through the silk, which was turning damp. I pressed kisses wherever there was silk, from her hips to the crevasse between her thighs. I searched for her womanhood. I kissed her as thoroughly and as imaginatively as I could. I played out every fantasy of kissing a panty-clad woman that I ever had.

She stroked her fingers through my hair and continued murmuring in French while I searched for her clitoris through the silk. I began to pay exclusive attention to it with my mouth.

Her panties were beautiful shimmering silk. A lacy black band wrapped around the waist and legs. The crotch began to dampen from the moistness of my mouth and her juices. A dark spot formed between her legs and there is where I concentrated. While kissing her wet spot I ran my hands across her panties, caressing her through the silk as she had done to me.

Perhaps not contented with letting me guide myself over her body, Madeline began to exert a subtle control. A tilt to the left from her hands and I moved my head into a different position. A tilt upward and my lips were repositioned. She used this subtlety to guide me to do exactly what she wanted me to do.

I pressed my tongue against her wet spot and wiggled it around a piece of flesh that was growing harder, almost erect.

“Voila,” she exclaimed, excitedly. “C’est bon. C’est très bon, mon amour. Encore. Le faire encore.”

“Huh?”

“Do that again, Cherie. S'il vous plaît.”

I pressed my tongue, a little harder this time, and wiggled again against the same spot.

“Cela l'est,” she exclaimed.

I pressed again, lightly.

“Ah, bon. You are learn…”

I cut her off with a nibble. I actually wrapped my mouth around the damp spot on her panties and gave a quick light nibble to that piece of flesh.

“Ah, encore,” she demanded.

I nibbled again, and again she called for more. I must have hit a very sensitive spot. Madeline lost control. Her panties got damper.

“Oui. Oh, oui Cherie. Encore, encore. Ahh, c’est bon. C’est bon.”

Madeline’s mind switched to her native language and she twitched twice two involuntarily. She took a few long, deep breaths.

She stopped me right there. After closing her eyes and composing herself she gently pushed me back on my heels. She made eye contact with me with the most serious look I have ever seen on a woman’s face. I felt as if I were about to be devoured, and suddenly I was nervous again.

Her robe fell around her ankles. I had not seen her untie it. She stood before me naked except for her panties. She pulled me up to her and fondled her breasts in her own hands. She had flawless white skin, and her breasts were large, round globes with small red nipples. Without saying a word she pushed them up with her hands and glanced down at them briefly. Looking back at me with that serious gaze, she offered them to me.

It was all instinct now. I licked the nipple of her breast and tasted her smooth skin. Closing my eyes, I wrapped my lips around her erect nipple, and gently sucked on her soft warm flesh. My right hand stayed on her hip, but my left hand drifted to the crevasse. Through the silk, I stroked the damp spot with the knuckle of my forefinger. I nibbled on her nipple.

“Oui, oui,” she whispered softly. “M'embrasser doucement. Me toucher lentement.”

I could feel her heart beating faster as her chest rose not with each stroke of her clitoris, but rather with each suck of my mouth on her breast. Each time she inhaled she squeezed my panty-clad erection between her fingers. I trapped her nipple between my teeth and pulled on it gently. Releasing it, I slid my tongue around the flesh and then sucked before beginning the sequence again.

This could have gone on forever, my sucking at her nipples while she fondled me through the silk panties she had put on me. I would have been content to maintain that position, mouth wrapped around her breast and finger stroking her sex, just as long as she kept fondling me. I was impossibly hard. My manhood raged and twitched and throbbed.

I do not know how long we continued this embrace of sucking and stroking. I could feel Madeline’s chest heave with each breath, and her body warmed. I was breathing through my nose so as not to break the seal on her body, but I must have been getting little air. I felt faint.

Perhaps just in time to prevent me from passing out, Madeline lifted my chin away from her breast.

“Lie back on the bed, Cherie,” she instructed.

“Sure,” I answered.

I lay back on the bed, my legs hanging over the edge, and my manhood stuck up through the panties like the Eiffel Tower clad in silk. Madeline stood before me and removed her own panties. Holding them in her left hand, she climbed up on the bed and crawled up my body until her legs straddled my hips.

“Let me leeberate thees for you, Cherie,” she said as she pulled my panties aside and freed my erection.

“Ah, voila,” she said. “C'est libre.”

It sprang into place as if wound up by a steel coil. Madeline gracefully stroked my bobbing rod. She smiled at me with a serious grin. It was not a playful, frolicking smile. She looked like a cat that was about to devour a mouse that it has been toying with. The game was fun, the hunt was enjoyable, and taunting the poor creature fulfilled a primeval desire. However, now it was time to put the poor victim out of its misery and sate the hunter’s hunger.

My hardness bobbed against her leg. The panty leg pulled against the base of my shaft. My member felt more sensitive than I could ever remember. My face felt hot. I felt more aware of my surroundings, as if all of my senses had been heightened.

Madeline repositioned herself slightly. I could feel her holding my erection and guiding me towards her womanhood.

“Are you ready, mon amore?”

“Ye…ah, I…I, ye…ah,” I stammered.

“Ah Cherie, relâcher. Relâcher, mon bel homme,” she whispered as she stroked my face with her free hand.

Madeline rocked her body back holding the base of my hardness in place. She rocked back and slipped me into her body. A warm, moist feeling enveloped my most sensitive flesh as she slowly, patiently slid back onto me. I held her hips and lifted my hips slightly pushing myself into her.

Madeline rocked back and took me deep into her body, but she did not sit still. Just as soon as she had rested into my lap she pulled herself forward. I could feel myself withdrawing from her body. I lifted my hips again to try and re-enter her, but she stopped me.

“No, no. Try to keep it in rytheem, Cherie,” Madeline said reassuringly. “I go up, but you go down.”

We repeated the movement awkwardly. Perhaps three or four more times before I found the proper rhythm passed, but soon Madeline was orchestrating a patient melding of our bodies. She controlled me gently, as she had when she directed my head as I knelt before her worshiping her panties and her body.

The panties I wore added a minor tension. I could feel the silk rubbing against my shaft, and it felt good, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Madeline’s body rising and lowering herself onto my sex.

We did not speak for what seemed like a long time. The tracks on the compact disk player changed at random. A variety of songs played on the machine. I lost all track of time and was humping Madeline from below to the whirring sound of the compact disk carousel as it rotated between songs. During that moment of near silence we fucked to the sound of our own quiet breathing.

Madeline quietly rocked herself up and down on my body, all the while giving me that serious smile that made me feel like a lamb led to the slaughter. I quietly raised and lowered my hips in concert with hers. I held her hips and her waist. I found that I did not need to support her body, so I reached for her breasts and fondled them.

Our pace never quickened very much. Madeline seemed to enjoy the slow steady cadence she had established. For me it was a departure from the furious pace with which I would flog myself in my quiet times alone with my panty collection. My typical panty fuck could be a blur both physically and mentally. I would pump my penis with my fist while my mind raced from one erotic fantasy scene to another. However, Madeline’s tranquil tempo had me relaxed. All my mind could focus on was Madeline and the feel of her body.

I felt the warmth and softness of her legs. I did not just sense that they were there. I could actually feel them on a different level, as if her legs straddling my body were a part of the sexual experience rather than just skin on skin. Of course, that is how it was with Madeline that night; every sensation was amplified. I could feel each of her fingers now pressed against my chest, her crimson nails scratching me ever so gently. I felt her breasts with my fingers and manipulated her nipples, taking the time to appreciate the hardness of them juxtaposed against her soft bosom. It was a patient awareness unfamiliar to me.

Her serious smile began to take on a peculiar visage. Her eyes glazed over and became watery. She seemed to loose focus of my face.

“I want you to use your finger, Cherie,” she said as she took my right hand from her breast. “’ere, I want you to play ‘ere.”

She placed my finger to her clitoris.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Play weeth it, mon amore. Play as you ‘ave weeth my neeple,” she answered. “Go back and forth, back and forth.”

I did not want to touch her too hard. I kept in mind what she had told me earlier about being gentle with a woman. So I decided to just barely touch her and work myself up to something more aggressive if necessary. What I did not count on was that my barely there touch is exactly what would send her over the edge.

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Le faire encore. Just like that. Back and forth, mon amore. Oui.”

“What, lightly just like this,” I said as I again barely stroked her clitoris.

“Oh. Oh! Oui, Cherie. C’est bon. C’est très bon.”

“Oh, I see. Just like this.” And again I gave her the same finger work three times in succession.

“Ah, yes. Oui. Ah, ah, oh.” She quickened her pace and rocked atop me faster.

I raised and lowered my hips in rhythm with her, and she pumped faster and faster as I fingered her. Our slow steady pace gradually turned frantic. Madeline was losing some of her composure. I could feel her nails digging into my chest a little harder, but I did not mind. Now she was pinching my nipples firmly and in cadence as she humped me. I squirmed slightly from my ticklishness, but allowed myself to enjoy it.

I fingered her clitoris a little faster, but I was not keeping up with Madeline’s pace of pumping herself up and down on my cock. Her eyes were closed. She was mouthing something, but I could not tell if it was in French or English. She was inaudible. The expression on her face changed. It looked like she might cry, but then she would smile. I just kept fingering her and raising my hips as best I could to keep up with her all the while amazed at how she had lost her comportment.

The songs in the compact disk player continued to change. The slow beat of the songs was all out of rhythm with our now up-tempo lovemaking.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Madeline started moaning loudly.

She leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of my head. Her breasts came down almost to my mouth. She pumped me faster now, faster than she had yet.

“Oh! Oh!” she cried out as she pounded down on my cock.

I thrust myself up and into her body on each of these furious humps. I felt a trickle of moisture roll off my forehead and down the back of my neck. I know that I was holding her hips more firmly than before. I let go of her hip with my right hand and palmed her breast. I squeezed her breast with each thrust I made into her body.

“Ah-ha. Ah. Ah-ha. Oh.” Madeline made a series of exclamations. Her face contorted, she slowed down. Her once furious pounding of my hardness subsided to a gentle slide.

The smile returned to her face as she sat back up on my body. She stopped humping me and just sat on my cock with a subtle grinding motion.

“What…happened,” I panted. I was half out of breath.

“J'ai arrivé,” she answered with a devilish smile.

“What?”

“Voila.”

“Aw, come on… Madeline,” I complained. “You know… I don’t under…stand you,” I huffed.

She leaned forward, gently placed her fingers on my cheeks, and kissed me on the mouth. She propped my lips open with her tongue and slid it inside my mouth. We kissed like this for another song. After the tune ended, she pressed her hand against my chest and leaned over to my ear.

“Mon amore,” she whispered, “what I said is that I ‘ave come.”

“You did?” I asked incredulously.

“Mmmm,” she purred. “But you, mon Cherie, you ‘ave not.”

“I know. I’m still hard. Oh, please get off me.”

Wait a minute. What the fuck did I say?

“What Cherie?” she asked puzzled.

“I mean…please…get me off. I can’t even think straight. Come on, Madeline. Please help me come.”

“I ‘ave an idea,” she said. “’Ere, let us roll over. Do not pull out of me, Cherie.”

We managed to roll to the other side of the bed with me still embedded inside Madeline’s wonderful pussy. Now I was on top looking into her eyes. She was still grinning with that evil smile.

“’Ere. Take me at your own pace, Cherie.”

I began humping Madeline slowly at first. It was not enough. I wanted sexual relief and the only way to get that was to pound her as she had been pounding me minutes ago. I quickened my pace.

Madeline squeezed my right ass cheek. She was still smiling, her eyes were closed, and she began panting again.

I humped her hard, but still there was nothing coming out of me. I pumped even more heatedly, and Madeline squeezed both my cheeks, but still nothing came – and neither did I.

Frustrated, I slowed the pace of my thrusts, but I slammed each one into her hard. Madeline’s eyes shot open and she dug her nails into my ass.

“Oh!” we exclaimed in unison.

I could still not get relief.

Pumping my manhood into her sex still, I eased off on her and started humping at a slower pace.

“I should’ve come by now. It’s never this much of a problem.”

I always come real good on a panty fuck. Each time I plow into the panties I get to squirt easily. Just the other night I came with no problem, now I’m actually fucking a living, breathing woman and I can’t come.

As I wondered why I was having this problem I repositioned my hand. Under Madeline were the champagne colored panties she had been wearing. I just thoughtlessly picked them up and tossed them onto her chest.

“Cherie, don’t treat your inability to come as a problem. You should cherish your staying power. ‘Owever, if you really must...”

Madeline took the still damp undergarments and stroked them against my face. As I inhaled I could smell her scent still on them from where her juices collected when I licked her through them. I felt her other hand wrap another pair of the panties around the base of my erection and fondle my testicles.

“Argh!”

I shot a stream of come into her pussy.

“Mmm, I thought so,” Madeline said. “Keep going. Encore.”

I continued pumping Madeline and she rubbed the panties across my face and chin. I squirted a second and then a third time.

“You are a true fetisheest, I see.”

“What…what do you mean?” I asked.

“You only ‘ad your moment when I brought these to you face, Cherie. As you Americans say ‘You are ‘ooked.’”

“Hooked?”

“Oui,” she giggled.

I kissed her and she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close.

“Do not worry. It is nothing to worry about. I understand.”

“Madeline, don’t tell me that you have some experience with these things.”

“Oh. But I do, Cherie.”

***

We lay in her bed recuperating from our lovemaking. I was on my back, and Madeline was cuddled up close to me. By now we had taken a momentary break, discussed the need for me to wash my clothes, put my work rags in the washing machine, and returned to the bed naked all the while.

We kissed and cuddled. Madeline’s body was so soft to my touch that I now could not help but be delicate with her. She gave me full access to anything I wanted to touch. For her part, she stroked my semi-erect penis very gently displaying her familiarity with how to touch a man.

“This wasn’t my first time,” I said. I didn’t know why.

“No?” she asked.

“I only did it once before.”

“Deed what?”

“Had sex,” I answered.

“’Ad sex or made love?”

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“I ‘ope not. ‘Aving sex is merely mechanical. It is devoid of passion or feeling. Deed we just now ‘ave sex or deed we make love?”

“We…we made love?”

“Are you asking me, Cherie?”

“No. We made love.”

“Oui, et c'était bon. Très bon.”

“Does that mean you liked it?” I asked.

“Oui, et vous?”

“Yes, I liked it too.”

“Cherie?”

“Yes, Madeline?”

“When deed you begin to understand French?”

Damn.

“The first time you ‘deed it,’ was it good for you?”

“No, it was too quick. I rushed through and came too soon and never enjoyed it.”

“And for ‘er?”

“She never spoke to me after that. As a matter of fact I never spoke to her either.”

“You never called ‘er or saw ‘er?”

“I was embarrassed.”

Madeline kissed me gently and reassuringly. She stroked the full length of my body with hers hands.

“Maybe she was too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it ‘er first time as well?”

“Yeah. Yes it was. We kind of dated a few times and then we decided to have sex. It wasn’t a big love scene or anything, and I thought she would tell all her friends how bad I was. I just avoided her after that night.”

“And you were so embarrassed that you never spoke to ‘er again? Weethout ever talking to ‘er about it? Weethout ever understanding ‘er feelings?” she asked.

“That’s right. I guess I did.” Now I felt ashamed.

“Mon amore, do not ever do that again with a woman. Next time, no matter the problem, talk to ‘er.” She kissed me again.

“I will. I talk to my girlfriend all the time.”

“But you ‘ave not made love to ‘er?”

“No.” Then it dawned on me. “Oh crap, Gail.”

“What about ‘er?” Madeline asked.