Powder Blue Panties

My best friend in the world, save only my husband, was a classmate of mine through all my college years. Outside our major fields, bioengineering and psychology for Nick and myself respectively, we had a lot of the same required classes. We studied together often, and our hobbies overlapped, too. We became "friends with benefits," but no more than that since at the time I was full of feminist philosophy and had no interest in setting my cap for a husband. No, I didn't meet the man who was destined to change my mind about that until after graduation, when Nick and I had gone our separate ways.

Still, Nick and I do get together every once and a while, and you'd almost say it was a, "Same Time, Next Year," sort of thing except for two differences: our spouses know about it, and there's a "no touching each other's naughty bits" rule in effect. We've never broken The Rule, though sometimes we've been tempted. And we have finessed it once or twice. This is about one of those times:

"I've left a present for you on the counter," he said.

"You don't have to do that!" I called out from the shower in his hotel room. I always say that, and he always does it anyway. Our "date" had had us out in the sun most of the day, and we'd each needed a shower. I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, ready to get myself made up. Tonight we'd scheduled dinner and dancing, and I'd brought nice clothes in anticipation. But I noticed right away that there'd been a change in the pile of clothing I'd left for myself. The sturdy white cotton panties I'd set there had been replaced with satin – powder blue satin panties.

I raised my voice so he could hear me in the main part of the room. "I half remember you saying years ago that powder blue panties were the sexiest kind," I said archly.

"You probably did," he replied, "because thatismy opinion. Those are the sexiest panties in the world." I took that for rhetorical at the time.

I stuck my head around the corner. "They look like they'll fit perfectly," I said. "A girl should have some secrets, but you even know what size panties I wear." He only smiled mysteriously. "Well, I'll wear them, then, and it will beoursecret."

I pulled my head back and slipped the new panties on. The fabric was wondrously soft and smooth against my skin, though not particularly sheer. I finished dressing, ending with a white lace blouse, black wool skirt and black pumps. I reapplied my eye shadow and lipstick.

I went back out into the main room, and he'd changed into a charcoal gray suit and burgundy tie. "You look beautiful," he said, appreciating me with his eyes.

"You'd say that and somehow manage to make me believe it even if I'd come out in rags," I challenged.

"That's because it would still be true," he replied simply. I blushed and then stepped into his arms for a hug. "You're very elegant yourself," I asserted.

"I bought these clothes in order to make an appearance before the Board of Patent Appeals to argue a point of patent law about one of my biotech inventions," he said. We hugged, then I picked up my purse and we made ready to go. As we were just about to step into the hall, his eyes got a twinkle. "I guess you could say that it's my "lawsuit." I groaned appreciatively at his pun, and we headed for the elevators.

We took a taxi to an elegant supper club. During the ride I seemed to feel unusually kittenish for some reason. I laid my head on his shoulder. When we arrived at the club we were seated without delay. We held hands across the table while we waited for our drinks to arrive. "It's nice of you to take me out like this," I said. "I feel good," I said suddenly. "Happy and...aroused." I grinned slyly. "Maybe it's because I'm wearing the sexiest panties in the world."

"That's probably it," he agreed, and he gave me a naughty wink.

Then my brows knitted slightly. Ididfeel something between my thighs. Just a wisp of sensation at the least level of perception. I realized all of a moment that I had been feeling something for some time now, but it had been below the level of conscious notice until now. I assessed myself, and discovered that the pink pearl of my clitoris had become swollen in its tiny way. I was being sexually aroused somehow, so gently and delicately I hadn't detected it even though I was well along the path now. I was getting wet inside, and sensed I'd soon be wetter. "Wait a minute!" I exclaimed. "Itisthe panties!"

"Yes, dear," he said complacently.

"They'll be damp soon, you know that," I warned.

"No trouble. The neural induction network's fibers are completely insulated."

"The neural ind...!" I burst out loud. Then I remembered we were in public and I continued in a hissing whisper, "Just exactly what am I wearing in this public restaurant!?"

"The sexiest panties in the world." He was grinning openly now. "You said it would be our secret that you were wearing them."

"I meant it would be our secret how big they are, not that they're feeling me up!"

"Oh! Sorry about the misunderstanding," he said with a vast insincerity. "Well, I'm hoping it will make for a memorable evening for you, and I also am hoping to learn something." He was smiling in his most winning way, trying to coax me into following along with his plan rather than slipping off to the ladies' room and ending the experiment by taking them off.

"And what is that?"

"Without stalling ... so that you're always moving towards the goal at least a little ... howslowlycan a woman be lifted to orgasm. And how does she feel when she gets there after such a ride?" He reached out with his hands to hold mine across the table, and said conspiratorially, "Aren't you curious about that?"

What woman wouldn't be! "Yes, I'm curious," I admitted, letting a little smile show. "Trust you to find a way to finesse The Rule!" The waitress arrived just then. I sipped my wine and selected an appetizer. It was arousing in its own way, I realized, just to know what neither she nor the other diners knew, that I was being seduced by my friend and being masturbated by my powder blue panties right there in front of them. That sometime during the evening I was going to come. I realized suddenly that I'd accepted that outcome, that I was looking forward to it. But all I said out loud was, "I'll have the baked brie in lingonberry sauce to start, please."

"And I'll have pate d'campagne," Nick announced.

I focused for a moment to learn more of the nature of the sensations between my thighs. The stimulation was a little more definite now, and I could feel slight sensation everywhere from mymonsback to within the cleft of my bottom. The invisible force the panties radiated reached into all my hidden places, back into the places concealed by the lips of my vulva, falling most heavily upon my clitoris itself. The little hood that usually protects it from sight had no power to shield it from the panties' compelling magic. It wasn't like being touched by fingertip nor by vibrator. It wasn't like beingtouchedby anything. "Induction" was the right word for it: the panties induced pleasure directly.

As the evening proceeded, and we had our entree and then dessert, my friend and I held hands and talked. Sometimes we talked about what was happening to me, sometimes about other things. The amount of stimulation that was being dispensed to me under my skirt was not the same at all times. It became sometimes more and sometimes less. I realized, and he confirmed, that it was programmed to deliver whatever it took to keep me from backsliding. If something distracted me, the intensity of the stimulation advanced so that I would continue to slowly become more aroused. If I slipped into fantasy or squeezed my thighs together to create friction, the intensity diminished so that once again I was advancing towards climax at a slow but inexorable pace.

By the time I was tasting the last bit of a dessert called "Death by Chocolate" I was wondering if I was at any risk of "Death by Erotic Tease." It had been two hours or more since I'd put the panties on, and my level of excitement had been increasing moment by moment, always up, never down, butso slowly. I wanted to come! I wanted to come so badly now that I was just about ready to hike up my skirt and rub myself off andwho careswho can see me! I was trembling and breathing in shallow gasps, when my friend's voice penetrated my awareness. "May I have this dance?"

The orchestra had by this time set up, and had been playing music for slow dancing. There were quite a few couples on the dance floor, and I let myself be guided to join them. Or rather, standing in the midst of the couples who were dancing, my friend and I began making love. Why not call it what it was? What difference does it make that we were clothed and standing up? We held each other close, we moved rhythmically, I drifted closer towards my climax – it was making love. The first song ended, and we paused briefly. I held onto him on the dance floor as we waited, my arms over his shoulders, my eyes wet. I wept silently, firstly for the agony of frustration that I was in, and secondly for the ecstasy of being held and loved.

The orchestra began a new song, and we began making love again. He guided our motion towards a hidden part of the dance floor, shielded by some potted palm trees. "Please, now ...Please!" I begged in a tiny voice. But the microchip that controlled my fate didn't have ears to hear. Heartlessly, it metered out stimulation to me according to its program and no faster. I clung to my friend and endured as we danced slowly. On a silicon chip, binary digits flickered through the system: 99.97% of orgasm intensity ... 99.98% ... 99.99% ... 100% ...

call subroutine prolong_climax;
while coming_now = true, do ...

And then I was coming! All the boulders of sexual tension the slow teasing had so carefully piled on me were let loose in an avalanche. My knees buckled, but I was supported by his strong arms. I clung and sobbed at the intensity of the pleasure and the relief. But if the panties had been implacable in their patience and subtlety before, now they were implacable in their insistence and blatant power. They measured and analyzed the pleasuring waves my nervous system was creating for me, then matched frequencies and pulsed pleasure induction in perfect synchrony. The effect was as if the powder blue panties screamed KEEP COMING! at my clitoris. Helplessly, it obeyed.

Thus buttressed, my orgasm reflex went on and on. For four times, maybe five times longer than any normal orgasm I'd had before, my climax spread its waves of pleasure and muscle contraction and release through me. My friend continued to hold me tightly, supporting me upright and just let me feel the power my coming undiluted. At long last, my poor overworked nervous system played itself out, and the panties gave up their attempt to prolong the climax. They shifted to yet another part of their program, which gave slow, almost soothing stimulation for a little bit. My friend and I rested our heads on each other's shoulders for a just a bit, then raised them together as the orchestra finished its song and its set and there was a bit of applause for them. We made our way back to our table.

Once we were seated, the waitress appeared with the check. She said, "Would you like anything more?" We just giggled. When she'd left, I whispered, "Just one speck more and I'd never have survived it!"

While we'd managed not to be noticed for what we'd done at the time, people afterwards had given us funny looks, and it wasn't hard to guess why. The magic panties had switched themselves off, but were still completely soaked with my juices; the scent offemale in heatfollowed me in a cloud. In the elevator in the hotel, I joked about it. "I need to wash a bit and swap out for my white cotton granny panties," here I switched to Ricky Ricardo's accent, "or I'll have some'splainin'to do." He reached into his pocket and surrendered my mundane undergarment.

"It's too bad I never took up your trade." I added. I'd analyze my scent and see if I could isolate something that would make you desire me forever."

He smiled at me and said, "That's one invention you'll never need."