I Call Her L. Ch. 01

This story was edited by LSEiland and is a tribute to all the Literotica editors, to whom I give thanks. She gave her permission, I assure you. What else can I say, read it and find out why.

Please leave a comment, they provide a stimulus to continue writing

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I call her L.

Please, let me explain. L is the editor for my Literotica stories. She adds the necessary corrections, punctuation, and contextual sparkle to my stories before publication. She has a screen name, but I refer to her only as "L." I am addictedtonylon, or addicted, as she addresses me. L remains anonymous and mysterious. She shows an enthusiasm about the stories I send her, which encourages me to write more. I don't know her occupation, where she lives, or why she edits erotic stories. Strange, considering she knows my most intimate thoughts.

I have written six stories for Literotica (L has edited the last 3), but now I have developed writer's block. No erotica in this brain. I struggled for two weeks and could not come up with any new ideas for a story.

I wrote L an email:

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Dear L,

I'm stuck; I can't think of any story plots that I think would produce a quality piece of erotica.

Addicted

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She responded to my email a few days later.

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Dear Addicted,

Too bad, so sad. But, I have a solution. You need to get out to live sex and fantasy, away from your computer keyboard. If you agree to my plan, expect to be first seduced, second humiliated, and thirdly degraded by the adventures I will plan for you. Only when I have eradicated those subconscious inhibitions can lusciously lurid thoughts return to your writing.

L

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I responded, puzzled, a little bit fearful, and mostly aroused with what could be in store for me. I didn't really know L personally, never spoke with her, nor met her, but I have grown to value her judgment. We understand each other.

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Dear L,

Sounds like a plan. Let's do it.

-Addicted

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On Tuesday of the following week, at 1 p.m., I received my explicitly detailed instructions for the first adventure, seduction.

I went to the website of a local escort service and selected my date for an elegant dinner at a local restaurant. She was a beautiful 26-year-old college graduate, brunette.

I proceeded, as instructed, to the only lingerie boutique in my local town. As I entered, there were nightgowns, teddies, corsets, and bikinis displayed along the walls. Several young ladies had gathered in the store. They glared at me as if I had entered their exclusive female domain. At the sales desk was a middle age woman, nicely tanned and professionally dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and pleated skirt. I pretended to look at the nightgowns, hoping to appear as if I was buying a birthday gift. The other shoppers finally left, prompting me to approach the counter.

"Hello, I'm Cynthia. How can I help you?"

"Cynthia, I'm looking for a garter belt and matching bra and panties." I was surprised at the forwardness of my approach, but Cynthia made me feel very relaxed.

"We have some wonderful ensembles I can show you. I have the three items matching or also some sexy one-piece corsets with garters. Do you know her size?"

I had written her measurements on a piece of paper, as they were detailed on the web site. "Yes, I have her sizes. Her bust is 36+, waist is 25 inches, height is 5' 6 ". She is size 6." I rattled these off, not letting on that I had never met her.

She showed me several sets with designer labels, some with lace, some satiny, others mesh and sheer. They came in a variety of colors and fabrics, all provocative.

I found one particularly enticing ensemble. The fabric was a striking shade of navy blue, gathered around the torso with red flowered trim, matching red bra straps and garters. It was sexy but still elegant, not garish or tasteless.

"This will be perfect," I said, pointing to it on the counter. She arranged the item as it would look on my escort. I gave a nod of approval. She wrapped the items in tissue paper and placed them into a box.

I was getting comfortable in the store. This is where I should work, I thought as I strolled around, looking at the lingerie and shoes.

"And I need a pair of very sheer stockings to go with this." I recalled.

She pointed to the wall, where there were mannequin legs modeling the various stockings, allowing me to study the look and feel. I took my time, feeling the sheerness and smoothness of the stockings on the legs.

I pointed one of the modeled legs out to Cynthia. I had selected a pair of 10 denier grey stockings, with a slight luster to them.

Cynthia said, "Those are perfect, she will love the sexy sheerness." She pulled over a ladder, took off her shoes and climbed to the top step, stretching her arms and rising on her tiptoes to reach a plastic box above the cabinets. As she did, her skirt rose up, revealing the tops of her stockings, garters attached. There was no welt at the top of the stocking, always a very erotic look that I had only seen in photos. I could not help but stare at the sight before me. Unaware, perhaps, of my leering gaze, she looked down at me and said, "This is the last pair I have."

She saw I was mesmerized by her display of the stockings and garters on her legs.

"Do you like what you see?" she asked as she climbed down the ladder.

She then started to opine. "So many young single women come into the store to buy a special pair of panties and bras. They say they make them feel sexy. I tell them that it is fine, but to really attract men, they should try wearing stockings to work or on a date. Garter belts and stockings are so erotic; I wish women would appreciate how readily men are aroused by them."

She walked back to the sales counter, and continued, "You may think you are alone in coming in here, but many men purchase these items, and return again and again. Just like you, they are not embarrassed in the least." She added, "I think men who buy erotic lingerie are very sexy. I know the items in my store lead to ecstatic sex and that is why I am here."

While I wish I could have stayed there all day, I said, "Could you make sure these are delivered promptly today to Darcy at Fantastic Fantasies? She needs them for our date this evening." Cynthia replied, "Certainly, I will have our courier do it immediately."

I paid the bill, keeping the receipt for evidence in case L didn't believe I was following her instructions.

By 7:30 p.m., I was sitting at the bar at Luigi's, a four-star Italian restaurant with wonderful romantic ambience. I saw her at the front entrance. She was of thin frame, wearing an off green blouse and matching pencil skirt, her hem resting four inches above the knee. She wore the striking grey stockings I had sent her, so I assumed she was wearing the entire ensemble. Her tall frame, thin calves and narrow ankles gave her a vulnerable appearance, teetering unsteadily on the 3 1/2" high heels she was wearing.

She was beautiful, and everyone in the restaurant turned their heads as she spoke to the maître d'. He pointed in my direction, and I smiled at her. She walked to the bar and climbed up on one of the barstools next to me. As her skirt rode up, I could see the reinforced welt of the stocking and a slight but clearly discernible indentation of the garter underneath her skirt.

We shared some drinks, and then sat at a small table, opposite each other, for dinner. I ordered a steak, she ordered lobster. We talked about her education, discussed art, politics, and a little about sex and her life as an escort. As she ate her lobster, visions of the lobster eating scene in Flashdance came to my mind, as she did a perfect reprise. Luigi's food was fantastic, and Darcy was relaxing with the food and drink

"Do you want dessert?" I asked her.

She nodded and said, "Lets share, I need to keep my figure."

We ordered a luscious chocolate mousse, followed with an after dinner drink of D'Alessandro liqueur. "Can I take a picture of you?" I asked. She acquiesced as she posed, sideways, her legs delightfully outstretched, skirt riding high, garters exposed.

The end of the evening came too early. She said to me, "Thank you for the beautiful ensemble and stockings. I hadn't worn stockings in years and they make me feel so sexy." She added, "I heard you are addicted to nylon."

She then whispered to me, "Unzip your pants." I did as I was told, and had worn low rise briefs, so as my erection grew, my shaft and head protruded above the elastic waistband. I readjusted the tablecloth to cover my dickhead.

Under the table, she removed her heels. Her feet rose and made contact with my rigid cock. She proceeded to massage it deftly between her stocking-clad feet. I felt like I couldn't breathe, suspended by the touch of the cool, sheer material on the hot head of my cock. It was incredibly stimulating. Within a matter of minutes, I jerked my upper body, as an orgasm and ejaculation proceeded, barely concealed to patrons in the restaurant. Darcy could tell just by looking at me that it had happened. She then used her feet to clean up the still warm spewed liquid over my lower abdomen.

After I recovered, I could see she was surreptitiously reaching under her dress. Yes, she was unclasping the garters, and then bent slowly over to remove her stockings. Her motions were mostly hidden by the overlying tablecloth. She took both of the stockings, wadded them into a small wet, sticky package, and handed them to me.

"L said you'd want to keep these." She got up, thanked me for a wonderful dinner and conversation, then went to the maître d' who flagged a cab waiting at the front entrance.

The next day, I sent the picture to L for proof of completing the encounter. During the next 24 hours, I thought of possible stories. Yesterday's encounters should have initiated some story plot. How about Cynthia, the MILF store girl showing me lingerie, or Darcy giving me a foot job under the table? Neither were really kinky enough to garner more than a 2 or 3 * on Literotica.

A week later, I wrote L

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Dear L,

I completed the seduction adventure, but so far, my mind is still blocked. What do you suggest next? I am getting desperate for a new idea.

Addicted

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I received a return email soon thereafter

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Dear Addicted,

That must have been too reserved an escapade; you will have to proceed to the next level. The theme of the next adventure is humiliation.

L

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New instructions arrived two days later. I read it and realized this encounter would be much more challenging and embarrassing if things did not go according to plan.

She insisted I start immediately. I went to a local TJ Maxx. This part could be awkward, but I thought I could do it with minimal public exposure. I went to the rack of panties in the lingerie department and soon found a pair of pink panties that were large enough to fit me.

Perfect, I thought. Now, off to the changing room. There was an attendant at the door and I knew she would make note of the number of items I was going to try on. I grabbed a pair of men's trousers on the way, and clandestinely stuck the pair of panties in a pocket, unlikely to be detected, I thought.

"Do you have only one item you want to try on?" I nodded my head and entered the changing room, she handed me a plastic card with a large "1" on it.

As L had instructed, I completely undressed. I then put the panties on and since they were a female large size, they had to be stretched to the maximum to fit. My penis became rigid underneath the slick nylon material. Then, using my cell phone, I took pictures, as I had been instructed, to prove to L that I had followed instructions precisely. The curtain to the dressing room barely fit across the doorway, but regardless, I gave my tool a few strokes, causing a small drop of cum to stain the front of the panties. I took off them off and got dressed. L had informed me I needed to purchase the same panties for later that day. I had to get out of the dressing room first. I stuffed the panties in the pants pocket figuring the attendant would never check the pockets when I left the dressing room. I walked past her.

"Sir, if you are not going to buy those pants, I need to keep them here."

I wasn't sure what to do. If I left the pants there, I wouldn't have the panties to purchase. If I took the pants, I would have to buy them. "I think I'm going to buy these." I said, as I walked to the check-out, which appeared relatively short in length.

While standing in line, just before they called me, I took the pair of panties out of the pocket, but kept them hidden from view underneath the pair of pants. I walked up to the cashier, hoping no one else would see me.

I put the pants on the counter. "Is this the only item you have?" she asked.

"No, I have one other item." With that, she first rang up the trousers and bagged them. Then, she held up the panties, glancing at me with a smirk.

"These are really pretty," she said. "Are they for your wife?" I heard her feigned innocence, more likely thinking I was a pervert who wore women's panties all the time.

She saw a small stain on the material. I knew it was the drop of cum from when I tried them on, now dried on the thin nylon material.

"These seem to have a spot on them, do you still want these?" she asked. I was thinking, just put them in the bag please.

"If I call the manager, she will give you a discount," the cashier said. Before I knew what she was doing, she called out to the end of the cashier aisle, "Ms. Joseph, can you come here? I have a gentleman that wants to buy these panties and they have a spot on them."

I was mortified, as the other shoppers were clearly enjoying my ignominy. I overheard heard the sibilant whispers and mocking laughs.

Ms. Joseph, who was in her late 20s, wore the latest fashionable pants on her slim physique with a translucent blouse and matching bra underneath. My cashier showed her the panties by holding them outstretched, and by this time everyone in line new what I was purchasing.

"I can't understand how the spot got here. How about if I discount at 50%?" she offered, as she scratched at the spot to see if it would be easily removed.

I quickly shook my head yes, paid in cash, collected the receipt, and left the store. The receipt showed the pants, as well as the panties. Would L know of the subterfuge?

Later that afternoon, I dressed for the evening in a pair of khaki pants, turtleneck sweater, and wore the nylon panties. I arrived at the local strip club "Erotic Encounters". I took a seat and ordered a drink. There were three women on stage at various stages of undress, dancing to the music. The colored lights were flashing on the performers, but the club was otherwise dark.

I was looking for an especially alluring waitress to complete the adventure. I spotted her and raised my finger to motion for a drink. She was wearing very glossy tan pantyhose, a short pair of slick silver lurex shorts and matching halter top stretched tautly and barely containing her ample breasts. She was about 6', even taller from the high heels she wore. She looked athletic, with firm buttocks, legs and thighs, glistening with reflected light on the shiny stretched nylon cladding her legs.

"Do you want a drink, sir?" she asked.

"Scotch, please," I responded.

When she returned with the drink, I said to her, "Do you give lap dances?"

"Of course I do. It's $20 for a lap dance."

"I have a different proposition," I told her. "If you can give me a lap dance to orgasm, I will give you $100." I showed her the 5 $20 bills.

"Let me put down my serving tray and I will be right back."

She then returned, and led me to a small room off to one side. The music was still loud, but the small room had its own set of dimmed lights, a modicum of privacy from the bar area. First, she straddled and faced me as I sat in the chair. She pulled down on the halter top to reveal her beautiful breasts as she pulled my face between then. She reached down, feeling for my hard penis, and opened my pants zipper. Only the pink nylon panties kept my cock out of site.

"Oh, you're kinky, you sissy boy," she said. She then turned around and sat on my cock, starting to gyrate to the music. With an up-and-down then in a circular motion, my rigid cock, still contained within the smooth panties, was in intimate contact with her buttocks. It only took a few minutes for me to have an orgasm, a generous load of cum entirely contained within the panties.

She leaned over to whisper in my ear "L knows you hid those panties in the trouser, she is not happy with you."

Not sure of the consequences, I chose to ignore it and chimed, "I just need one more thing. I need to take a picture of you and me holding the $100," I asked her.

She called to one of her waitress friends. I handed her my cell phone. I was still sitting in the chair, she was standing behind me. She lifted one of her legs over my shoulder, placed her leg between my legs, and then lowered her stiletto heel right on my now flaccid cock, applying just enough force to make it uncomfortable.

There was a very obvious large damp area underneath her heel. She looked at me and said, "L told me you like stiletto heels," as I looked at the heel compressing my cock head. Her nylon clad thigh was rubbing against my cheek and I could smell the sex aroma from her damp nylons. Her friend took photos of the encounter.

The pressure from the stiletto on my cockhead increased to the point of being intolerable, smashing it flat like putty in the soupy mixture of cum. "L says don't disobey her again," were her words of stern advice to me.

I returned home, and sent the pictures to L to document the completion of the adventure.

After a few days, I wrote L, hoping her recollection of my missteps previously had faded.

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Dear L

I was really embarrassed in the store, but the remainder of evening made up for my humiliation.

There are so many stories about men in women's panties, or in a strip joint. I don't think I have any new story angle on this.

Addicted

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She replied

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Dear Addicted

Degradation is my last resort in curing your creative lapse.

L

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She wrote me a few days later with instructions. L told me to go to the local adult store. I looked around at the items in the store as I had never been there before. At the desk was a thirty-something female, sitting on a stool in front of a glass display case. I looked around the store but did not see the item I was told to purchase. I walked up to the counter. She was heavily tattooed over her arms and shoulders and was wearing only a loose leather vest; her bare midriff contained a pair of elaborate tattoos. I stood in front of her, and after a few minutes, she finally put down the book she was reading. She looked at me insouciantly.

"Do you need some help?" she said.

I was not sure I could say it, but finally said, "I want to buy a butt plug."

This did not faze her in the least, as if this happened every day. She reached in the glass case and pulled out several types of plugs, all of different sizes and lengths.

"Are you a novice, or experienced?" she asked me.

"I..I..I..I... really don't know. I have never done this before." I stuttered, staring at the girth of some of them, hard to imagine my rectum could accept any of them.