The Panty Perils of Me 08

Ever since our last get together, Arnold has been emailing me constantly hoping to meet for coffee, or lunch, or anything.

How novel that a young male college student would want to see me again after I applied a strangle hold on his penis causing him to splash his spunk all over the sidewalk. And in the process of my performance on his erection, I was wearing nothing but heels, panties and an open leather jacket with my equally erect nipples on full display.

I just can't imagine why he would want to see me again.

What is an out of control woman supposed to do?

What has changed for me since my date with Arnold succeeded by my outdoor spanking in front of the professor is my style of dreams be they day or night dreams.

I see myself again with Arnold, barely dressed as usual, gripping his penis until he is about to explode. Only this time instead of stepping to the side removing myself from the spray zone, I quickly drop to my knees, opening my mouth wide and catching every last drop savoring the taste of his male secretions like a fine wine.

I want to taste him, and considering how much fluid he left on the sidewalk, I am bound to get a very full taste.

Although these thoughts persist daily, I am bothered that I am having them.

I would like to believe that this just isn't like me, but I can't as I don't know what is really like me anymore.

Every so often when I am on my knees feeling the spurt of hot earthy goo hit the back of my throat, I look up into the eyes of my ejaculator and is has become the professor.

Thankfully I am meeting with Jackie today for coffee, which should provide me a respite from my erotic fantasies.

I can't believe that I just wrote this, as the reason I want to meet with Jackie is to explore my erotic fantasies. Well, at least I will have something else to think about.

We meet at a coffee shop just off of campus.

Jackie is already there when I arrive. She absolutely fills the room with her presence with her jet-black hair, which has recently been shaven to her scalp on the right side. She has on a white fish net sleeveless tee and an almost transparent black bra underneath putting her very pert little nipples on display. A black denim micro mini skirt with high heeled combat boots complete her display of "I don't give a shit what you think."

I feel a quivering right between my legs the moment that I see her.

She smiles and waves me over.

For the next 30 minutes I am like a schoolgirl as I simply gush with superlatives about her ability to just be who she wants to be. I tell her that I have always wished to be that kind of person.

It is embarrassing at how much I envy her. After all she is almost half my age.

When I finally stop exuding superlatives about her, she asks me "What or who do you want to be?

I am silent for a long time, and when I do respond, it isn't to answer the question that she asked, but to share with her my latest adventures that started so long ago at my daughter's teacher's conferences.

I can tell that she enjoys listening to my narrative as well as the change in my demeanor as I relate every little detail.

"Look at you, Elizabeth. You are so excited and uninhibited as you tell me your stories. Your entire body is glowing," she says to me.

There is no doubt that I feel different.

Every pore of my being is vibrating with a most delicious energy.

Jackie then asks me what I enjoyed most about all of my experiences. Without thinking I respond with a shaking voice, "I like being stripped or told to strip."

"Well, let's go test this right now.' Jackie replies.

She grabs her black motorcycle jacket throwing it over her shoulders and takes a hold of my arm whisking me away from the tiny storefronts and shops that border the campus. Soon we are on a walking path that connects some of the dorms with each other. It is bordered by woods and bushes making it much more secluded than a location in the middle of campus would ordinarily be.

It is not exactly the ideal kind of day to be outside as it is overcast and the ground is wet from a recent rain.

Jackie directs me to sit down on a fallen tree. I place my raincoat on the tree and sit on top of it to prevent my dress from getting wet.

Jackie faces me and says, "Unbutton your dress until it is completely unbuttoned to your belt.

I comply immediately without any hesitation. Once the first two buttons are undone, the flaps of my dress move apart with each additional button. The third button reveals my lower thighs. The fourth button reveals my upper thighs.

A blotchy red coloring is forming on my exposed skin in reaction to the cold and damp air sliding across it.

The fifth button shows my crotch encased in the pale blue nylon fabric of my string bikini panties.

Although my legs are covered with goosebumps, there is nothing cold in the most recent of my uncovered areas. A delectable heat is forming between my legs eliminating any recognition of the colder temperatures.

The sixth button reveals the entire front of my panties. Jackie compliments me on my choice of undies saying, "A pastel color for a spring day, how perfect."

Her voice sends shivers through me as I reach for the last button and push its face through the opening.

As I let go of my dress, the flaps move apart to their maximum and my c-section scar as well as my navel are now on full display.

She tells me to put my hands at my side so as not to cover myself up.

"Lunch time is just about here which will bring a stream of students and professors down this path as they make their way either to class or from class. I want you to sit perfectly still as you are and allow everyone to see your very sexy exposure."

"I am going to sit down the path a ways and watch how you react." She adds and then walks away.

I am trembling and tingling from head to toe with nervous anticipation, excitement, and utter dread.

As the first group of students approaches me, my mind takes over almost yelling, "I can't do this." I quickly close the flaps of my dress with my hands insuring that they stay in place as everyone walks by.

Again my mind yells, "What are you doing? You are a 40 year old woman and acting like a little slut."

As if in response my lower lips quiver in such an obscene manner that I think I might orgasm.

The tingling just intensifies as another group of students pass by. Then what I assume to be a professor approaches. He looks to be in his early 50's carrying an air of extreme self-confidence and control.

I am fixated on him, as he seems to be walking directly towards me.

He stops just in front of me and lingers gazing at me from head to foot noticing that my dress is unbuttoned all of the way to my waist despite the fact that my hands are doing a fair job of keeping the folds together.

I am captivated by the look of intelligence on his face as he sits down on the fallen tree beside me.

"I sense that you might be in the midst of a quandary." He says to me.

I shake my head to indicate that he is correct.

" I am a professor and therapist of human psychology specializing in sexual tendencies and fetishes," he goes on to explain.

"You have that look of so many of my patients when they are experiencing an inner turmoil of do's and don'ts.

I open up to him as if we have known each other for years.

Our conversation fits so seamlessly into my recent awakening as we talk about people's fetishes and hidden desires.

Before I am really aware of how I got to this point, my hands are trembling almost uncontrollably and I release the hold of the folds of my dress letting gravity take over as each fold makes its way down the side of my upper thighs.

His unspoken but clearly sensed desire to control along with my desire to submit have met at a crossroads resulting in a rush of damp cold air seductively assaulting my bare legs as my dress easily parts all of the way to my lower rib cage.

The look of pleasure in his eyes as he relishes this image of my own making sends unexpected shivers of excitement throughout my entire body.

I can feel the effect my exposure is having on me and quickly cross my legs to hide any evidence of my state of arousal.

I can't speak as he slowly takes in the extent of my exposure making no pretense to hide his pleasure.

" Do you always wear such sexy panties? he inquires as if asking about any ordinary article of clothing.

I reply that I enjoy feeling sexy.

"And you want to show off?" he continues.

I don't know how to respond and he changes the subject.

"Is this a scar from a c-section?" he asks me extending his fingers towards the lowest part of my abdomen. I subconsciously lean back making my bare stomach more accessible to his touch and feel his fingers slide seductively across my scar only inches from my opening lower lips.

My moan is almost silent, but the uncrossing of my legs still sends my unspoken message.

I am about to allow this man access to any part of me that he wants when I hear Jackie's voice, "Lawrence, I see that you have met Elizabeth."

As if awakening from a dream, I look down and see Lawrence's fingers gliding across my scar while my stomach convulses as if in orgasm.

I stammer, "You two know each other?"

Lawrence replies that our meeting was a little more than a coincidence as Jackie told him that I would be here today and wanted us to meet.

My head is swimming with this revelation and I don't know how to react.

"I really have to be on my way, so I will let Jackie fill you in a little", he adds.

In the act of standing up Lawrence's hand brushes the front of my pale blue panties sending a wave of very pleasant shivers down between my legs.

I watch him walk away feeling slightly let down and exceedingly horny.

Jackie than sits down beside me and tells me her story. When she first came to the university she was every bit as confused as I seem to be even to the point of considering suicide. A student counselor referred her to Lawrence and he was able to free her from her self-doubts and become the person that I have become so enthralled by.

She thought that it would be of great benefit to me if I worked with Lawrence as well. So she planned this little meeting.

I sarcastically reply, "So you felt it necessary for me to have my panties on display to meet with him?

With a devilish grin, Jackie reaches between my legs sliding her hand right up against my nylon covered kitty exclaiming, "It seems that you enjoyed your meeting. Am I right?"

My soaked crotch is all of the response that she needed.

Jackie reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a card that is a bit worse for wear with Lawrence's address, email, and phone number, handing it to me.

"I really think that you should give him a call, " she says.

Right now I am sitting at home staring at Lawrence's card remembering how the touch of his fingers on my lower abdomen had created such a hypnotizing effect on me. I felt so utterly free not worrying about what anyone might think of me or even caring.

It was absolutely intoxicating.

I would like to be upset with Jackie for playing such a game with me, but it is virtually impossible.

Now should I email or call Dr. Lawrence Thrasher?