My Daughter's G-string - A New Dare

About a month ago, I shared a story about a shared experience with another member of Literotica about the night he asked me to wear my daughter Katie's sheer tank top for him. I suppose it would help to read the first chapter (My Daughter's Tank, a New Thrill) to truly know how it evolved into this chapter, but a few things have changed since then.

The "costar" of the story, "Jason" read it finally, and he loved it. I was overjoyed that he had such a flattering response to it. Technically, it's been my lowest rated story here on Lit, and that's completely fine with me. I don't write these stories for validation, and I am not the least bit competitive. I also don't "fluff it up" to make it sexier or wilder. As with all my stories, it is what it is, take it or leave it for what it is. I wrote the first chapter mostly to relive the excitement and intensity of that night, and eventually to share it with my partner here--who has since happily given his consent to use his real first name this time around. So, Justin, if you are reading, this one is for you, baby. And I hope the rest of you enjoy it as much as we did.

Justin and I had a special bond from the first minutes we chatted. I have made several really nice connections here in the chat rooms, but Justin felt different. He was so complementary and non-judgmental, his reactions always seemed to simultaneously put me completely at ease and profoundly arouse me. The night he asked me to wear my daughter's tissue thin, sheer tank top for him, was shockingly erotic for both of us. Even though he couldn't see me that night in the top, his mind illustrated a perfect picture. (A little note--the formality of chat introductions on the chat site fully observed, Justin and I exchanged photos. The following day, before we discussed our chat from the previous night, I sent him an additional photo of me holding a "hello" sign with both his name and screen name written on it. I wanted him to know I was authentic, and that he was special). So when I wore that tank for Justin, he wasn't just responding to the taboo overtones, I'm quite sure the vision of my E-cup breasts (which he has also seen) was quite high on his list of turn-ons.

As we got closer over time, and shared more intimate thoughts and explorations in the chat room, any semblance of a wall or barrier came down for the both of us. We joked and laughed easily together, we shared music, and sometimes even watched comedians together. Just was more than a chat buddy, he was a confidante and friend, and a rare partner I felt truly connected to.

On the intimate side of things, even with that debaucherous evening that I wore my daughter's paper-thin, and far-too-snug, tank top for him behind us, Justin was respectful of me and my relationship with Katie, and the potential awkwardness his fantasy, and my agreeing to it, may have caused. I assured him that everything was fine. It was during the school year, and Katie was attending college away from home, so it's not like I had to face her the next morning. Beyond that, I confessed to Justin that it wasn't just him who was aroused by it. The taboo feeling of "wrongness" that went with wearing her sexy tank for him made me feel daring, adventurous, and very sexy. I liked it as much as he did.

I still find it strange how easy it is to pick up on a vibe in a chat with someone you have a connection with, and it was like that with Justin. One night, as we were flirting and talking about our shared experience, he made a joke that "Katie should bring home something else you could wear for me." The thought made me stir, because I knew he was only half joking. I wondered what he had in mind, and so I asked.

After a bit of gentle prodding and assurances of no judgment, he finally "popped the question." Justin asked me if I would ever wear one of Katie's thongs for him while we chatted. My body warmed and face reddened as I typed, "yes baby." He confessed my answer made him rock hard erect, so I excused myself to fetch one of Katie's wispy panties from the underwear drawer in her room. My heart pounded as I looked through her collection of intimates--such pretty colors and sexy sheer fabrics. I outweigh my daughter by a good 30 pounds (just one more reason to be jealous of her, grr) so I settled on a light blue lace g-string, assuming the fit would be forgiving. I was right. I scurried back to my room, and my laptop, and slid the panties up my thighs and over my ass as Justin panted his approval on the other end of the line. I admit--I felt, and looked pretty damn sexy in that naughty little g-string. And Jesus I was on fire.

We talked, and teased, and brought each other to orgasm more than once, as I slid my hand inside Katie's panties and fucked my fingers at Justin's instruction. I'm wet right now typing this--it was the kind of thrill you feel when you know you're doing something a bit wrong, but do it anyway. It made me climax hard, and I loved the way it made me feel. His reaction, the feeling of the lace on my body, the gentle soft pressure of the string between my ass cheeks (which tugged lightly with every movement of my hand as I played with myself) was an overwhelmingly erotic feeling.

"I want you to wear it all day," Justin typed.

Oh, wow. My heart pounded. Would I dare?

If you haven't read any of my previous stories here, I should mention that I am a high school teacher. Seniors. 18-year-old boys. Oh my. As I sat staring at the glow of my laptop, I contemplated my response. My first thought was--who would know? It's not like I wore skin tight clubwear to work. The sexy little g-string would be perfectly concealed under some sensible slacks or a conservative dress. I could do it, right? My second thought was that I would be wearing my daughter's slutty little panty--the one I just masturbated in--to school to teach American history to six classes of toweringly hormonal boys who get erections when the wind blows the wrong way. My heart rate sped as I typed back to Justin.

"Yes, baby. I'll do it."

Surely Justin would be the only person to know, but as I got dressed in the morning, I couldn't help but be aroused. As I slid on a perfectly respectable skirt, I posed in the full length mirror. There was no telltale line. There wasn't anything. Seeing my reflection, knowing I was going through with it, flicked a switch inside me, and I became damp as I buttoned my fitted oxford top, aware that my erect nipples were visible through my bra and blouse. I was so turned on, I almost called in sick to stay home and take care of myself, but I didn't. I headed to work, and I was still breathing fast and ragged as I parked my car in the teachers' lot and made my way into the building.

The day was excruciatingly long. Class after class, hour after hour, I stood in front of way too many teen boys whose eyes I felt could magically see through my clothes, like cheap comic book x-ray glasses. I didn't let on, of course, but there were moments in each class where I felt so goddamn aroused I wondered if I'd get fired for pulling the emergency alarm so I could fuck myself in the teachers' lounge until I felt some relief. By 2:15, I was actually forcing myself to walk up and down the aisles of the class I was teaching rather than at the front of the room, because the reality of fifteen sets of 18-year-old male eyes on me as I dampened my own daughter's g-string that I fucked myself in not twelve hours before was almost making me jelly-legged. I knew my nipples were stiff and obvious so I tried to cover myself with a book or by crossing my arms as I walked. But I admit it--I was in bad shape. It was torture not being able to make myself cum right there.

Making things worse, I knew I would be telling Justin about everything later that night. And fucking myself again for him as I related every detail. I could forecast his reaction, and I knew the questions he'd ask, even as I stood there in the middle of my last period. Did I feel sexy? Yes. Did I feel naughty and aroused? Yes, and yes. Was it a turn on knowing our secret as I stood in front of dozens of young men, class after class, some of them, being honest here, quite strapping and attractive? Uh huh. My mind went to so many forbidden places during that last class, it was something to behold.

Even though I was counting the seconds to the final bell, it startled me when it mercifully rang. We have old-school metal bells in every classroom, and I could almost feel the harsh vibration of it in my nipples and clitoris. I sighed hearing it ring. My torture was almost over.

I masturbated almost the second I threw the front door of my home open, having teased myself the entire ride home. I had unbuttoned the middle two buttons of my blouse and peeled my bra down in the car to pull my nipples, even in traffic. I had a longing--an actual physical ache. And I needed immediate relief. I stripped out of my skirt, practically ripped open my blouse and tore off my bra. 

But I left the panties on--sliding my hand underneath and plunging three fingers inside me roughly until I was whimpering on the edge of my orgasm. I pulled the g-string wider to the side because I knew, laying back on my sofa, legs spread, I was about to have a very wet spraying orgasm. I didn't want to soak the g-string. At least not yet. That would be left for my conversation with Justin later that night.

Finally, night came. As did Justin. And me. He appreciated all of it. And then some. It was a delicious experience all around. An experience I never thought I'd even consider, much less go through with or share. But it all excited me in a way that's difficult to express. And if he ever asks me to do it again--or more--the answer just might be yes again.

Right baby?