Brown Shoelaces Pt. 01

Note: The persons, names, and events in this story are entirely fictional and are not based on any actual person living or dead.

After having gone out with a variety of women who weren't into sexual experimentation — whose idea of a good time was simple sucking and fucking (or, fucking only) — I had the pleasure of meeting Marilee.

I met her one day in the student union when I was grading students' papers. I was off in a dark corner of the beer hall by myself, nursing some dark ale and chips. She said she recognized me because a friend of hers had invited her into one of my lectures once.

Now, she explained, she'd graduated and was working for a pharma company.

I'll admit that her walking up to me was a nice respite from grading work. Marilee was a tall blonde wearing tight Levis, the stretchable kind, because when she briefly left to get herself a beer, her rounded buns were nicely, oh so nicely displayed. On the other hand, her breasts, as well as I could make them out, were diminutive. I don't even think she wore a bra, 'cause I could easily make out her nipples.

I don't know what made her desire to join me. I'm a dowdy kind of guy, in my mid-thirties, divorced with no kids, and when I'm not giving lectures I'm doing grant-funded research for the chemical industries. But I'm in good shape 'cause I run, bike and swim a lot. That keeps me on an even keel.

We had an animated conversation where no one dominated the airwaves. I hate it when either I end up doing all the talking, which usually ends up being about me and my interests, or the woman talks about the latest movies she's seen or her pet cockatiel or her ex. Marilee was laughing, and that got me laughing, and one thing led to another.

However ... with some life experience under my belt, I was wary of things moving too fast. I have an alcoholic male friend who for whatever reason gets into relationships way too fast (people he meets at AA meetings) and he's now been married and divorced four times and has lived with maybe six other women.

Marilee and I decided to see each other again - "not a student-teacher rendezvous!" - she joked. So we saw a movie together the following weekend. It was a sci-fi thriller, but the real thriller was when her hand migrated to my inner thigh and then up against my inevitable erection. But that's as far as it went. As we left the theater, I had to hold the popcorn bucket against my trousers to hide the moist spot.

We found a pub for a beer, talked each other up some more, and when I said goodnight and was going to give her a peck on the cheek, she turned it into a full, voluptuous, lip and tongue grab. That's not something easily forgotten.

Next time we met, I ventured to ask if she had any boyfriends (she had already quizzed me about my status). There's Victor and then there's Gina, she admitted. "I'm polyamorous."

Now, I guess I'm old-fashioned as far as relationships go. When I go with a woman, I'd like her to be loyal to me. Sharing has never been my MO.

But on the other hand, over the past four years since my divorce, I have gotten more and more into online porn, and my horizons had been expanded. The porn was like releasing a genie from a bottle who promises, "whatever sexual pleasure you can imagine, I can bring it to you" - via my computer screen, of course. I loved chasing down long-sublimated fantasies through erotic pictures and videos.

In other words, I was a very ripe, low-hanging fruit ready to be picked by someone like Marilee.

"Oh, great," I said without much enthusiasm—about her multiple partners.

"If it bothers you," said Marilee, "we could just say goodbye. But, you know, I kinda like you, with your scholastic mannerisms and all." She reached across the polished gnarled-wood bar table and covered my hand with hers. I melted, right then and there. That hadn't happened with anyone for a long, long time.

We ended up at her place that night, and we madly fucked. My god, I had been horny. It was like I'd been on the international space station for a year, and we finally got a female astronaut aboard, and she came on to me.

The next morning she served me breakfast in bed. I devoured her French toast and bacon, which we topped off with some amaretto. That got us going again, and this time she sat on my prick and did all the humping. I was in heaven.

After we dressed and sat around watching Sunday morning TV shows, sitting close together with one of her long legs drooping between mine, she casually asked, "Have you even done bondage?"

This sudden mood change certainly got my attention - I wondered just how much of myself I was willing to share. But her forwardness won me over. "Just once. I asked my wife to handcuff me to a bed, and it made her uncomfortable, but she ended up doing it."

"And then ...?" asked Marilee.

"And then, I asked her to take advantage of my situation."

"And?"

"She played with my dick, trying to take me to the edge and back, but I came way too fast and that was that."

Marilee: "Well, there were certainly lots of possibilities there, weren't there? I mean, I could think up a dozen different ways to take that scene forward. ... So, would you like to explore that a little more? I mean, you wanting to be handcuffed is a start, isn't it?"

I had to agree.

It was two weeks before we saw each other again. This time she came to my place, a smallish bungalow-style home perfect for a dowdy professor.

Fireflies floated around outside on a warm summer night. She arrived with a travel bag. We smoked a little pot, and her eyes looked so, so adventurous and fun. We hugged and kissed, and I couldn't help but grab her ass. I could feel those nipples of hers nearly against mine (she was taller than me).

Kissing all the way, we made our way into my bedroom, which I had carefully straightened up. We both quickly shed clothing down to our underwear (she was wearing panties and a lace bralette).

"Do you have any extra shoelaces around?" she asked.

"Don't think so."

"Then take the shoelaces out of your shoes."

Turned on by her forwardness, I obliged, handing her the thin laces. Still holding their shape from the shoe eyelets, they were suddenly assuming an erotic aspect. Who'd have thought shoelaces could assume that role?

She had me strip completely naked then, and had me sit on a straight-backed chair. With one of the laces she expertly tied my hands together behind me. My erection was flagpole high as this point, and a glistening drop of precum had already appeared at its tip.

She then took the other lace, tied one end to my bound wrists and drew the other end between my butt cheeks like a thong and secured it to my penis just below its head. I found this to be intensely arousing, especially since when I moved my wrists to any degree, it pulled at my penis. Penis bondage! Erotically and totally clever. It reminded me of when I used to play with myself when I reached puberty.

"Now imagine if your students saw you this way," Marilee joked. "Maybe you could be teaching Sexual Variations 1A instead of Chem 1101."

She took her finger and smoothed my precum around my penis' head as she massaged my balls. I began to moan a little.

"Wow, you are one of those hair-trigger guys aren't you? Guess that's why you came so soon with your wife."

Maybe.

She left me alone for a bit. She returned with lipstick, for a new avenue of kick, and gingerly applied it. I didn't fight it. I had never, never worn lipstick before, except maybe when I was in a play as a kid, and the stage manager thought I needed a little makeup.

"I like to make men my concubines," she said, laughing. "I notice your prick is straining against the shoelace, and look how much it's dripping! That's my barometer. If you'd resisted and gone flaccid, well, that just wouldn't work. But I'd swear half the men I catch with my spider's web enjoy women's things. ... In fact, the first time we met at the student union, I figured you might be open to a concubine role."

"Hmmm."

She then returned with a sexy, firm-cupped white strapless bra, which she handily applied around my hairy chest. "Oh look, she exclaimed, "now you've got bigger titties than me!"

She completed her transformation by pulling dark nylons with elastic lace tops over my hairy legs.

I'll admit that in a perverse way, I quite enjoyed the slightly tacky feeling of lipstick on my lips and the feel of lingerie.

My prick kept wanting more attention.

Tell the truth, I was actually feeling rather embarrassed and awkward by this crossdressing in her presence. I had never done anything so scandalous with a woman before.

"Oh, Iver (my Scottish-derived name), do you realize how much I love this? A prick, a bra, nylons, makeup - it's quite perfect, isn't it? You're now making me wet, dear."

She took a picture and showed it to me. "Don't worry dear, I will delete this. I wouldn't want you to think I would blackmail you."

Then she untied me, and as she had me stand, she gave me the most masterful blow job. I practically screamed from pleasure, looking down past my bra boobs at her grade AA technique.

She then lay on the bed and held a vibrator against her clit as I tongued and sucked her nipples. I used to be a big-breast man, but somehow her very small tits were turning me on. She soon jerked mightily - her whole long frame was in spasms.

After that, she asked if I wanted to wear a dress or return to my male clothing. I selected the latter, but she insisted I keep wearing the bra and nylons underneath.

OK.

We agreed she'd spend the night. Now, as she lay in bed, she had me tie her securely with silken ropes she'd brought - first, her wrists behind her, then elbows, then knees, then ankles. Then she told me how to secure a rope around her waist, to which I would attach a rope front and back which would pass tightly through her cunt. This obviously excited her, although my rope-tying skills were not very good.

Now in bed, after I removed my lingerie, she insisted upon me wearing a slinky nightgown she'd brought, which I acquiesced to (again, I was enjoying being told what to do). In that manner, we slept the night, with just a little aromatherapy candle burning away.

The next morning, over breakfast, when I was still wearing her nightgown, she wanted to talk bondage. "What did the shoelaces do for you?"

"Quite erotic."

With that, she went and got the shoelaces again and tied them all around my erect prick, which left me with a hardon for a long time.

"There, Mr. Iver. You are secured."

"That rope through your cunt - you like that?"

"Oh, yes. I was doing that to myself even before I had sex with anyone."

Marilee: "And the lingerie? And the lipstick?"

"You know it was turning me on."

"Listen, I have one more thing to do with you."

So, after breakfast we returned to the bedroom and she pulled a white, boned and laced corset out of her bag. "Here's something to give you a nice feminine waist!" she exclaimed with delight.

I pulled it up around my waist and chest, and she proceeded to methodically pull the laces hard, eyelet by eyelet, in back. My breathing became restricted as my waist was severely drawn in. Down below, barely held in by panties, my prick was again quite wet, and with a mind of its own, and it wanted to fuck Marilee.

Then, surprise! She also had a corset for herself, of a red and royal blue color, which I laced as tightly as I could - following her encouragement and directions - but I rather bumbled through the job. I loved seeing her skin slightly bulge out from underneath her corset's top, edged with white ruffles.

"Don't you just love to be so tightly held?" she asked.

"Well, yes. I think I saw somewhere some men wear these because they like the feel."

"True. But this, for you - I'm still thinking of you as a concubine. I shall name you ... Ivy ... or Isel ... or Eva."

"I like Isel."

We looked up the name on her phone; in Mexico it means "unique."

"Well, we are certainly unique," Marilee said, laughing.

"Listen," she said, I have this scene I want to do with you. I've done it before with a guy, with the exception that he wasn't my concubine."

"And that would be ...?" I asked, with the tightness of her corset reminding me that I was very much under her control.

"OK, tell me if this would turn you on, because I could totally understand if you wanted out of my crazy fantasies. But this would totally turn me on, you know."

"So ... "

"So, I would totally dress you as Isel. You would look totally female, as female as I could make you. With makeup and the whole nine yards. And, held tightly by a corset. My concubine."

My imagination was raising my penis to ever higher levels of erection.

She continued. "Then you would lace me into my corset, and I would strap on a dildo, and you'd be bound to a chair or bed, and I'd fuck you."

"Bound with my shoelaces?"

"Agreed. You do have a thing about shoelaces, don't you?"

"Ah, yeah."

Our tete a tete was a month off, because she has leaving on a vacation for three weeks (with Gina). This gave me four weeks to engage my vivid imagination with visions of her in black leather with a huge bobbing strap-on dildo. My porn viewing narrowed down to this niche.

Marilee kept texting me with provocative one-liners, such as "strapping young lad goes to town" and "Isel's waiting in the wings with her angel wings" and "Oh, dear, my waist is down to 15 inches!"

She did tell me I needed to go out and buy some of my own lingerie, including panties, nylons, pantyhose, bras, wigs, nightgowns and a dress or two, but she would find shoes for me. Being shy about shopping the women's section of department stores, I ordered most of it online for quick delivery. Not all fit!

She said she'd supply makeup, and she'd eventually teach me how to apply it myself. And finally, she had taken it upon herself to take measurements so as to order a corset for me. This was quite generous on her part, because I knew custom-made corsets were very expensive.

As a little gift to her, I ordered the most erotic strap-on harness and faux cocks I could find (which weren't cheap, either). The harness was a deep-brown leather with silver fittings. One accompanying dildo was of medium size and black, while the other one was larger, of a deep maroon color. Of the lingerie purchases, she texted back, "Oh Isel, I can hardly wait."

In the meantime, I wondered what kind of fun she was having with Gina. I hadn't seen a photo of her yet, or of Victor, for that matter.

At the appointed day and time a month later, we were at her place. Now, it was my turn to bring a travel bag with most of the goodies I'd purchased (and of course had tried on). I couldn't wait to see the corset she'd ordered for me. I couldn't wait to see myself reincarnated as Isel. I couldn't wait to experience the brown shoelaces again.