The Panty Perils of Me 27

My mind was getting over active with thoughts and ideas and if I let it continue I would have been able to justify anything.

I stopped myself so I could concentrate on the matter at hand or should I say the erection in my hand?

Repositioning myself I knelt on the passenger seat. Now I could completely focus on the very sexy sight in front of me.

I have always loved to see a man squirt.

Well, it was time to have Harold squirt for me.

Another father/son comparison for my memoirs.

Harold started to move his pelvis in the opposite direction of my manual ministrations until he was perfectly in sync with my hand movements.

But then, catching me completely by surprise, he grabbed the back of my head forcing my face right into his groin smearing my lips and cheek with his issuing goo.

I know how much most men enjoy having a woman's lips wrapped around their pleasure pole, but I still wasn't expecting to find Mr. Lawrence's penis between mine.

I can't quite explain why I opened my mouth letting his oozing erection slide into it, but I did.

I guess the nuns were right about me being a 'loose girl' after all.

With one hand now firmly in place on the back of my head, he used his free hand to literally tear the hem of my micro mini up and over my protruding bottom.

Not the easiest feat as I was kneeling on the seat next to him bent over with my head in his lap, which stretched the material of my skirt around my upper thighs and butt.

I guess that he really wanted to see my panties.

As the fabric of my skirt slid up and over my nylon clad bottom I felt the cool night air caress my swollen and moistening lower lips that were extruding from between my legs

Harold slid his fingers across my cheeks easily locating my camel toe and began to massage my puckering lips.

In response to his groping fingers I began to move my head as far down as I could until the head of his penis would hit the back of my throat and then bring it all the way back up. With my pursed lips around his swollen tip I used my tongue to lick away the goo eliciting a little "huh" from his lips.

At the same time I would emit a little "ach" as my gag reflex would react to the feel of his penis against the very back of my throat.

If anyone had heard us, we were a symphony of "Huh, Ach, Huh, Ach".

Knowing that he no longer needed to physically encourage my oral efforts on his penis, Harold used both hands to pull my skirt completely up my lower torso almost turning it inside out around my waist.

And as you know by now, I hate having men stare at my panties especially when I have them on.

I was beyond aroused.

Now that he had me uncovered to my string bikini panties from the waist down and my mouth affixed to his firm flesh, it wasn't long before his entire body tensed and a loud "Yesss" exited his mouth.

I knew full well what usually followed a loud exclamation of "Yesss" as I wasn't an amateur at oral sex.

The first spasm of ejaculation filled my mouth.

So much for watching him squirt, but I certainly was getting a taste.

As one liquid spasm after another threatened to overflow from my mouth, I continued to suck and swallow until nothing but a dribble was issuing from his tiny oriface.

My kitty wanted to be stroked, but it seems that it was to remain neglected unless I took care of it myself.

Harold was the one to raise my head from his softening penis allowing me to sit back on my heels still with my skirt well above my waist.

"God, that was the best ever," he said to me and I couldn't help but smile.

When he added, "You are such an incredible woman," it erased any guilty feelings that would regularly accompany this latest performance with fellow married person.

Maybe I was getting past feeling guilty about my sexual urges and moods.

I still was feeling very sexy and alive. My body was tingling in anticipation of something more.

When Harold started to drive me home I blurted out, "Let's go back to your club," with a sly grin on my face.

I have no idea why it was so important for me to go back to the club, but I was listening to my over aroused body and it wanted to go back to the club.

The Club

So back to the club we went.

Everyone was gone for the night and the lights were out.

I opened my door and got out feeling the cool night air on my exposed skin. Pulling the hem of my skirt back down to its proper position, I reached behind my back undoing the button and zipper, and let it side down and stepped out of it.

The thought of walking around an exclusive club wearing nothing below my waist other than my string panties was intoxicating to me.

If it had been just a little warmer, I would have removed my blouse as well.

Harold followed me with a look of consternation on his face. He wasn't very comfortable being with a half dressed woman strolling about his Club, particularly one who wasn't his wife.

I on the other hand was fully in one of my moods.

We walked around to the back of the club where the tennis courts were located.

Harold nervously whispered, "I think we better go."

I didn't want to listen as I had an orgasm to attend to.

I sauntered over to the gate in the chain link fence walking inside to the court. Taking a hold of the chain link fence while looking directly at Harold who was standing on the other side I pushed my crotch up against the metal links.

I loved how the thin nylon fabric allowed me to feel everything as I rubbed myself between the links.

My lower lips had parted quite a while ago letting my female kernel protrude slightly from its aperture.

I found that I was able to rub the very tip against the metal links of the fence sending the most exquisite sensations throughout my entire body.

Harold's nervousness was forgotten as he watched me hump the fence. The look in his eyes as he stared at my nylon cloaked pubis rubbing between the links aroused me even further.

Despite his desire to leave he couldn't take his eyes off of me.

I wanted to put on a show that he would remember for a very, very long time.

It is funny how not so long ago the thought of masturbating while someone watched me would make me break out in a cold sweat. Now the sweat was very warm and located right between my legs.

But I required a more effective perch to really get my blood flowing.

I looked around and spied the short metal post that held the tennis net up and walked over to it wiggling my bottom and swinging my hips.

I took a hold of the top of the metal post while doing my best impression of a pole dancer; squatting down, spreading my knees wide apart, and leaning way back so the very center of my crotch was right up against the metal post.

It was nice and smooth which along with my lubricated panties made my sliding movement quite effective.

I was now lost in my need to orgasm becoming oblivious to Harold as well as anyone else that might have been watching as this latest technique was bringing me very close to the edge.

Each time that I was on the precipice of orgasm, I would pull my entire body into the pole pressing my lower lips and protruding kernel firmly against the metal.

The cold metal pressing against my intimate spot effectively shut my impending orgasm down allowing me to continue in my pre-orgasmic state.

I was so close, but didn't want my current condition to end. It felt so good to be so sexually charged and uninhibited.

I wanted to stay in this state of orgasmic suspense for as long as I could.

I found myself wishing that the nuns from my high school could have been here to witness how I had turned out.

The feeling of being so scandalous and sexually out of control was exactly what I was craving.

It had begun with my little walk down memory lane and now was seeking new memories to feed my fantasies.

Knowing that the longer I delayed my orgasm, the more intense it would be, served as my compass and now the needle was pointing towards the tennis net itself.

I let go of the post intending to straddle the tennis net. Swinging a leg up and over the net allowed the taut fabric to press against my soaked crotch.

Slowly sliding along the net only served to increase my state of sexual arousal and abandonment.

I walked the entire length of the net making sure that its hard surface was pressed directly against my over sensitive nub.

Just as I was right on the cusp of a very over due release of all my pent up sexual energy and without any warning, a tennis ball smacked me across my barely covered bottom.

It turned out that not everyone had gone home as I had thought.

The same distinguished gentlemen, Mr. Van der Waal, that had spent most of the evening watching me from the corner of the room had commandeered the ball machine expertly aiming it at my butt.

It wasn't set very high provided a rather erotic stinging feeling on my nylon covered cheek.

I had attracted a playmate to my tennis court provocation.

I should have been alarmed or at least embarrassed, but I was quite a few miles down the road from feeling self-conscious.

Besides, as I previously have stated, I liked the look of this older man from the moment that I first noticed him.

There was something about him that gave me a sense of sexual abandonment, which was certainly my current craving.

I offered him my best version of an enticing smile, again lifting my leg up over the net. Walking back to the post, I bent my upper body forward, providing my new provocateur a more tempting target.

Another ball smacked against my other cheek sending a delicious vibration to that sensitive spot between my legs.

This was exactly what I had been searching for all night i.e an experience that was sensually kinky.

Giving Mr. Lawrence a blow job with my mini pulled up to my waist allowed me to relive a period of my younger years that I often wished was still present.

However, being molested by a ball machine aimed by a distinguished looking stranger put much more of an adult spin on the evening's activities.

I watched over my shoulder as the next series of well aimed balls ricocheted off my bottom bringing with them more exquisite tingling between my legs.

My attacker knew that I was I enjoying his expertise, and by the size of the pole sticking straight out from the front of his beautifully draped trousers I could tell that he was enjoying me as his target.

I held up one hand to have him cease his assault and slowly walked back to the chain link fence putting a very exaggerated swing in my hips.

I could feel his eyes on my barely covered cheeks as I strolled back over to the fence. It made me excited to know that this obviously successful man was interested in me.

I took a hold of the fence with both of my hands, giving a little shake with my cheeks as my signal to start shooting again, although my mind was focused on a different kind of shooting.

Smack, smack, smack went the tennis balls across my cheeks pushing my groin into the chain link fence sending delectable sensations right to the tip of my female nub.

Each ball that bounced off my bottom brought me closer and closer to orgasm.

My inner thighs were dripping in response to everything that had occurred and was occurring on this tennis court.

The fact that I was getting off at having tennis balls aimed at my panty covered bottom was more than strange.

But think about it a bit. I had a phallic shaped cannon shooting missiles at my almost naked body.

It was the perfect symbolistic representation of being ejaculated on. At least I thought so. And my body was reacting to it.

After all don't they say that the most effective sexual weapon is the human brain.

I only wonder what Freud would have thought about it.

I again stuck my hand out and cautiously turned around with my mound and crotch front and center.

His aim was incredible as the next ball hit me right up against my swollen and open lips vibrating my nub into a minor spasm.

It was more of a splat than a smack as my entire intimate area was drooling sex.

It was so unexpected that I grabbed myself between my legs letting out a little squeal of "Ouch."

I slid down the fence still gripping my crotch to find myself sitting on the cool surface of the tennis court with my legs splayed out in front of me.

The cool air on my sodden crotch felt good.

I looked for Harold, but it seems that when the latest participant came along, Harold had vacated the premises.

So Mr. Lawrence had abandoned me again, only this time he had gotten what he wanted from me. And I have to admit that I enjoyed every swallow.

Mr. Van der Waal approached me as I sat on the ground minus my skirt displaying a dark blue stain across the crotch of my panties.

His face was filled with concern for my crotch causing me to giggle out loud.

"I am quite all right, Mr. Van der Waal," I said, "I just wasn't expecting such a perfectly aimed shot to my intimate area."

I really enjoyed everything about him.

He responded, "Ms. Harley, I am so very sorry for the errant tennis ball. I had no idea that you were going to turn around. I must say that despite this final mishap, you have provided me the most interesting and erotic evening that I have had in years. I have watched you when you have been a guest of the Club, and you have the same spark in your eyes that my wife had when she was alive."

"I am so sorry for your loss, but if you wouldn't mind telling me, what spark is that?" I replied.

"You have a sense of adventure combined with a lack of inhibition that sets you apart. I was hoping to connect with you sometime soon. This evening confirmed my intuition about you."

As we talked he told me about his late wife who had passed away 5 years previously.

He had grown a company from the ground up and then sold it making him very wealthy.

With time on his hands along with a passion for all racquet sports, he founded an exclusive club for exclusive members.

These members were much like him; they enjoyed racquet sports as well as women or men that had that spark in their eyes.

The entire time that we conversed I remained seated on the ground perfectly comfortable to be sitting in front of him in my blue blouse and panties.

I really liked him; a lot.

He finally reached down, taking my hand pulling me up from the ground.

As I tried to get my feet under me, I was still a little dizzy from being on the edge of orgasm for so long that I stumbled against him feeling his erection directly against my stomach.

It gave me a very naughty idea.

I started by telling him about the party and how much it brought back memories of my late teens and early 20's.

I explained my outfit as it was exactly what I used to wear when I was young and discovering my sexual side, right down to my panties.

I lifted my blouse to give him an unobstructed look at my teeny royal blue string bikini panties performing a little pirouette so he saw me front and back.

I was so incredibly comfortable around him.

When I turned back around, his smile told me that he liked me as well, although there was something else about it that made me quiver.

It wasn't a nervous quiver, but more of a "What else is going on in that kinky little mind of yours?" quiver.

I ignored it and ant on to share my story of the first time that I performed a hand job on my boyfriend, although it really wasn't a hand job as it involved more of my abdomen and belly button than my hand.

I reached for the front of Mr. Van der Waal's trousers and undid his zipper explaining how I had stood in front of my boyfriend with nothing on but my blouse and the same style of panties that I had on now except that they were red.

Reaching inside his open fly I discovered that he was wearing an exquisite pair of black bikini briefs in a very soft and thin silk fabric.

Thinking that I might have discovered my second panty wearing male of the evening I reached further inside the opening and explored the fabric and fit.

It was a pure pleasure to investigate his erection while it was encased in such a fine fabric, and since there definitely was a pouch for his goodies, I knew that he wasn't wearing panties.

Keeping my hand inside his trousers while gripping his erection through the silk fabric, I told him that my boyfriend also wore bikini briefs, which excited me to no end and still did.

He let me continue my story and demonstration without any interruption. What a surprise!

I unbuttoned the front of my blouse while keeping my other hand busy stroking his throbbing flesh telling him how I had pulled my boyfriend's erection out and over the top of his bikini briefs and then through the opening in his trousers.

Out came Mr. Van der Waal's erection into the cool star lit night glistening with its own kind of dew.

I then began to rub his firm oozing flesh across my stomach making sure that the very sensitive opening in the ridge of the head was placed directly on my navel.

Just as I had done so many years ago, I rubbed his erection across my stomach letting his goo create a slick enough surface on my skin to provide just the right amount of friction.

Mr. Van der Waal's eyes rolled back into his head and he began to let out a most delectable moan.

I pushed the head of his totem of flesh firmly against my skin and began to stroke his shaft from top to bottom.

My other hand reached under the crotch of his silk trousers and I began to massage his scrotum as well.

It wasn't long before his body arched back pushing his erection deeper into my stomach and the first spurt of white, sticky goo gushed forth splashing across my skin.

I pushed two of my fingers against his scrotum while sliding my other hand to the base of his penis issuing another stream of hot liquid across my stomach.

It was virtually identical to how I remembered it happening so many years ago that I completely lost the fact that I was performing this particular activity on a complete stranger; a man that I had only met for the first time a few hours ago.

I found myself encouraging him by saying, "That's it honey, squirt on me." I pointed his ejaculating penis at my tiny breasts letting his warm spunk splash across my very erect nipples.

Yes, I wasn't wearing a bra as I couldn't find one that went with my panties.

It seems like he hadn't ejaculated in quite a while as he continued to erectile vomit all over my exposed abdomen and breasts.

I literally milked him until my front torso was dripping in creme.

I guess that I was more than just a target for his tennis balls.

I certainly hadn't lost my talent for hand jobs either, although I was now covered in spunk without any method of cleaning myself off.

Once Mr. Van der Waal had gotten himself put away, he led me to the rear entrance to the club and to the door of the ladies locker room.

"You should find everything that you need inside." he said holding the door open for me.

I walked inside stripping off my clothes except for my panties and walked into the shower room.

Since my panties were dripping of sexual residue I thought that they needed a good washing as well.

Each shower head had its own tiny stall for privacy with a curtain.

I slid aside the curtain to the nearest stall, turning the shower on to hot and luxuriated in the warm stream of water rinsing all of the evening's activities off my skin.

I slipped my soaked panties off and washed them with the liquid body wash found in every shower and slung them over the curtain rod to drip dry.

Then while leaning against the back wall of my stall I aimed the shower spray right between my legs so it caressed my still aching nub.

I still hadn't orgasmed and it was time.

As my moans increased their intensity I didn't realize how the sound echoed off the tile walls particularly when only one person was in the shower area.