Will Work for Panties

Hot water cascaded down my body washing away the soap from my chest, neck and shoulders. I stood under the showerhead letting the steamy water spray into my face before turning and rinsing off my back. My erection did not subside the whole time that I showered, and I replayed the events of the previous hour in my mind. I admit that I kept myself hard with the aid of my soapy palm because there was no way I wanted this throbbing erection to subside; not now. However, I think that I would have stayed hard even without the manual attention.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled myself dry. I had needed to get the smell of sweat and sawdust off of my body. Madeline might not have minded the byproduct of my labors in her fitting room; in fact, maybe she would have been aroused by the ripe, musky scent of my body. However, I felt sticky and grubby; being so very self-conscious of my own odor would only have given me something else to worry about and not have helped my situation. I wanted to wash away any stench and grime that might in some way have an adverse effect on what was already well underway: my seduction.

I toweled my hair dry then combed it as I thought about the erotic, crushing hug Madeline had given me for finishing the work in her lingerie shop downstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror while thinking about her invitation to celebrate with her, and the magnum of champagne that we shared. I thought about the sexy outline of her full figure revealed through her negligee as she swayed to music in front of her old-style record player. And, I thought about her undressing me on the sofa of her living room, and how she ran her fingers over my exposed chest and nibbled at my flesh while groping me through my dirty jeans, and how she had undressed me enough to free my erection. I throbbed at each thought, and while staring at my own face in the mirror for a few seconds wondered how I got so lucky.

I was on the verge of something big. I nervously allowed my mind to roam wildly about what Madeline had in store for me. It was going to be every young man’s dream come true, wasn’t it? How would it really feel? What would she initiate? Would I have the guts to follow through? Was I man enough to allow myself to be seduced, or would I run home, hide in my room, and jerk off with a fistful of panties – all by myself?

What am I getting myself into? Okay, calm down. Just try and relax. It’s okay. Everything has been great so far, and you haven’t made an ass of yourself yet. Just let it happen. Okay, here’s the plan, whatever she wants give it to her. Just go with it. Be cool, and don’t back out.

A little mental prep never hurt anyone, but the truth is that I was so nervous deep inside my guts that I think I had to convince myself to go through with this. I put all other thoughts out of my mind while looking into the mirror and trying to find what it was that had this mature Frenchwoman so turned on. I had been making her horny, but no matter how hard I tried to find what her attraction to me was, I failed.

I shook a little as I wrapped a dry towel around my body and left my work clothes crumpled in a pile on the floor by the foot of the shower confident that Madeline would not mind the mess. Nervous tension would have consumed me had it not been for the several glasses of champagne I had shared with her. It was an incredible feeling of being sober enough to be nervous yet drunk enough to loose my inhibitions. I stepped out of Madeline’s bathroom and into her adjoining boudoir wrapped in the towel.

Well, here goes everything.

Madeline’s bedroom was lighted dimly; enough light to see her clearly and appreciate her sensuality yet still shadowy enough to create an air of mystery provided by the flicker of several candles lit on either side of her bed. Stylish wallpaper gave a sensuous feel to her innermost sanctum, which reflected the tastes of a mature woman. Her furnishing were no less elegant here than in the rest of her apartment, perhaps more so. A queen size four-poster bed dominated the large room. There was typical bedroom furniture: a dark mahogany dresser and matching armoire, a loveseat on which she sat with her legs uncrossed and tilted to the side did not seem out of place in her boudoir, and a full-length dressing mirror in which I saw myself emerge from the bathroom took a prominent place next to the armoire.

She had a more modern sound system here in her bedroom. Rather than the decades old record player of the living room, here she had a modern compact disk player stereo system providing the background music. It sat on the top of a solid oak table that, if I am not mistaken, was once used to conceal the chamber pot. I recognized the style from a shop class in high school. I thought that it was an interesting conversion piece.

Over the head of her bed hung a large oil painting of a very beautiful young woman with dark black hair flowing over her breasts. The young woman sat on the edge of a large white claw-foot bathtub combing out her hair. It was obviously another portrait that Claude had painted of Madeline. It was more beautiful than the one that hung in her living room. The frame of the painting seemed to open into another smaller room in the dim light, but the color of her eyes and skin seemed to come to life. My eyes darted back and forth between her portrait and the living, breathing Madeline in front of me, and I felt an involuntary smile cross my face.

She’s always been so poised She even sits on the loveseat as if she’s posing for a portrait.

Madeline was still wearing her sheer black robe and champagne colored panties. She held her hands out to me, motioning for me to come to next to her and sit. I took her hand and sat next to her on the loveseat.

“Come ‘ere, Cherie.”

I motioned to the painting over her bed with my eyes.

“Another Claude original?”

“Oui.”

“I like this one more than the one in the living room. It‘s so much more lifelike. It’s very … erotic.”

Indeed, her artist lover had caught something in her, or brought something out, that was captivating. Her skin was less white than the alabaster tub on which she sat, and her hair was as dark as midnight. The smile on her face struck me as a combination of emotions: modesty and pride perhaps. Modesty at posing nude for the painter, yet pride in her own beauty. Or maybe she had posed at that point in her life where innocence and sexual awareness combined to form a fledgling sensuality.

“Merci,” she smiled back to me. “I am sure that Claude would ‘ave appreciated the compliment. ‘E called it ‘is Pièce de résistance.”

She got a momentary look of melancholy over her face as she glanced at the painting. It was as if a dark thought entered her head, not so much to cast a pall over our presence together, but rather a ghost reminder of something very old. After all, she was referring to Claude in the past tense. She quickly snapped back into a beaming smile and turned to me.

“Come ‘ere to me, Cherie.”

My hand held in hers, she pulled me towards her as she stood. Madeline reached for the towel around my waist and gently tugged it loose. It fell to the floor at our feet, and I stood before her naked as I had in the living room earlier when she had begun this seduction.

“You deed not really want to wear that, deed you?”

She dragged it with her foot to the side and I proudly took in a deep breath as she ran her fingers over my chest again. My erection was still at full staff. It was the only answer she needed.

“Ooh, you do stay excited, non?” she said as she lightly brushed my manhood with the fingers of her other hand.

“We,” I answered in a bad Americanized accent. She giggled.

“Oh, so now you are fluent en Français?” Madeline stroked her fingers across my chin and lower lip. “M’embrasser, mon amour,” she said.

I stared at her with the gaze of a dullard.

“Kees me,” she whispered.

I hesitantly pressed my mouth against her lips and kissed her. Madeline ran her right hand around the back of my lower body and held my left cheek in her hand. She wrapped her left hand around the back of my head as she kissed me. Her mouth was warm and moist; the seal our lips made as they pressed against each other created a mild sucking sensation. It was wonderful. I could feel the probing of her tongue at my lips. It was the best kiss I ever had. The excitement of it made my already rigid staff begin to twitch.

Goosing me, Madeline pulled me closer to her body and my erection pressed against her warm flesh. She kept me close to her, guiding me with her hand on my rear.

“Mmm Cherie,” she said, “you do indeed stay excited.” She pulled back and brushed her fingers lightly along the length of my shaft several times more, dragging her fingernails along the underside of my manhood.

“That feels … I like … ahh,” I stammered as she fingered my tool.

“Well now, I theenk I might be able to do something for thees,” she said. “Are you ready for a leetle ‘elp, Cherie?”

“Help?” I asked.

“Oui. ‘Elp with what you told me earlier. Your leetle ‘obby.”

I was speechless. I just nodded my head.

She traced the length of my penis with the crimson tip of her fingernail, then turned away from me. I watched her step to the large mahogany armoire and open its doors. She pulled out the center drawer and started to sift through many pairs of panties. She took out two pair. In her left hand she held a pair of dark blue silk panties that were tastefully decorated with swirls of gold. In her other hand she held a pair of maroon satin panties with gold pinstripes.

“Which do you prefer, the silk or the sateen?” she asked.

“Well, I really don’t know. They’re both so pretty.”

Madeline stepped back to me and pressed both of her panty-clad hands against my chest. With her left hand she rubbed the blue panties around my chest, and with her right hand she rubbed the maroon panties down the length of my body and around to the left cheek of my bottom. All I could do was close my eyes and sigh a deep contented breath as Madeline caressed my flesh with delightful silk and satin tenderness.

“Ahh, mon amore, I told you I would ‘elp you,” she said as she tended to my flesh.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “that…helps a lot.” I started to breath deeply. I smiled.

Indeed, Madeline had promised to “help” me earlier as we sat on her sofa sharing champagne. This seduction had begun with my confessing to her that I was a panty fetishist. It was a secret about which only a few people knew, but the list was growing. While I had sat on her sofa, weakened by the effects of the wine and her charms, I confessed all to Madeline. I confessed that I loved the look and the feel of all kinds of panties from cotton bikinis to elegant silk tap pants. I confessed that I loved the feel of them as I rubbed them against my body in those quiet, private moments when I indulged in my fantasies. I also confessed that three wonderful women, my Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters, Patti and Bambi, provided me with these exquisite garments and the conditions under which they did so. Panties for pay; I worked for panties.

Madeline took in all this information. She took it in and decided that she too would “help” me. However, I had a feeling that before this night was over I might really need some help. Patti had once warned me about Madeline, something like ‘she licked her chops the moment she saw you’ or something to that effect. Well, Madeline the huntress had her prey just where she wanted him, and she had moved in for the kill.

My joint was as stiff as it had been all night long. I wanted to touch this woman. Until now she had been the one to make all the moves, but I sensed that she would be receptive to my touch. At least that is what I wanted to believe. While she continued to caress my body with her panties, I put my hands on her hips and squeezed too hard.

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Did I hurt you?” I was afraid I had ruined everything. I recoiled a little and let go of her. I knew my own strength. The problem was that I did not know the degree of her sensitivity. Let’s face it, I was in pretty uncharted waters for me.

“I am fine, Cherie,” she reassured me. “But I am not going to run away from you. If you ‘old a woman too tightly, she may slip out of your ‘ands. You would not want thees.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again.

“Don’t be sorry. Be gentle, Cherie. That is what a woman wants. ‘Ere, ‘old me as you deed before, only not so ‘arshly.”

Madeline placed my hands back on her hips with her fingers overlapping mine and she squeezed very gently. She looked me straight in the eyes as she spoke.

“ ‘Ere Cherie, like thees,” she said. “That is ‘ow you should ‘old a woman. Don’t be afraid to touch me. If it makes you ‘appy, then touch me anywhere you would like as I ‘ave done weeth you. That will make it all the more enjoyable for the both of us.”

With that she stroked the length of my ever-hardening manhood with her satin-pantied hand. The feeling was exquisite. I responded by slowly and gently brushing my right hand up and down the side of her body.

“Like this?” I asked as I lightly ran my fingers up from the lacy trim of her panties, up inside her wispy robe to just under her breasts.

“Oui. C’est bon. Much better. I like that. See, you catch on quickly. You can ‘old a woman longer weeth a gentle touch. ‘Old ‘er right, and she will never be able to slip away.”

I caressed her body, gently, up and down from her panties to just under her breasts. I wasn’t bold enough yet to actually grab her bosom, so I just let my fingers and palm wander around along the length of her skin. I was bold enough, however, to begin fondling her derriere with my left hand. I had wrapped it around the back of her body as she had done to me, and mimicked the motions that she made. My own ignorance of how to touch a woman led me to a wonderful discovery. Gentle works like glue.

“Ahh, Cherie that is very nice. That is good. Always begin by touching a woman slowly, softly.” Her eyes fluttered and she pulled herself close to my ear. “Me toucher doucement. Me toucher lentement,” she whispered.

Sure. Whatever.

Standing there by her bed we continued to caress each other’s body. I don’t know exactly what effect it was having on Madeline, but I was slowly realizing excitement in areas that I had previously ignored. I am a man after all, and as such most of my masturbatory attention focuses on a relatively limited area of my own body. Madeline did not focus on any one area. She roamed her hands over my torso, her hands clad in silken finery. I felt the softness over my ass and chest. I felt hairs rise on the back of my neck as her hand came down over my shoulder and down to my chest, her fingernail circling my nipple.

My own fingers seemed to sense more as I touched her softly. Her body was warm and soft. There was less of the firmness of muscle tone that I felt when I hugged my girlfriend, Gail, or even my aunt and her sisters. But then, I had never been this intimate with any of them. Madeline’s flesh was much more tender, and I started to treat her in a more delicate way.

We just stood caressing and fondling, and gazing into each other’s eyes. There was something going on behind hers, some plot she was hatching. I could sense it. For my part I just stared at her learning each and every line of her face. The uncharacteristic patience I showed fondling her must have translated into a better sense of observation. I noticed things about Madeline that I had not noticed before. I found myself examining a woman in a totally different way.

Her face was indeed beautiful, but there were slight imperfections that were accents to her countenance. She had tiny little crow’s feet around her eyes; they were just slight lines. Her nose had a very gentle tilt to the left that was hardly noticeable unless you looked at her head on at eye level. Her teeth were white, but one or two were only slightly out of perfect alignment.

Madeline’s lips were perfect, flawless. She had full pouty lips that, true to her style, were made up with just the right amount of lipstick.

Her breasts remained uncharted territory to my hands. Madeline had let no part of my body unattended to, but I had not yet ventured forth to touch those wonderful globes. I slowly eased my hands along the side of her body bringing them to a convergence between her breasts. I started to bring my fingers to her bosom, but at the last second I lost my nerve and slowly pulled my fingers away.

“You are a tease, Cherie,” she said with a deep breath.

Madeline squeezed the skin around my waist with both hands. It tickled and I flinched.

“Oh, are we a leetle ticklish?” she asked.

“Yeah, just a bit,” I answered.

“Mmm, I may ‘ave some fun weeth that.”

“Please don’t. I can’t stand to be tickled.”

“Well then, you ‘ave to answer my question or I will tickle you more,” she said. “Do you prefer the blue silk or the burgundy sateen panties?”

I pondered this for a moment. They were both so smooth and sensual. It is so difficult to make a decision sometimes, but I decided to go with the traditional answer, or at least what I thought the traditional answer was.

“I, ah, I like the silk more.”

“Well I thought you would. I theenk most men prefer silk. It is so wonderful, non?”

Madeline dropped the maroon panties to the bed and held out the blue panties in front of me.

“’Ere Cherie, step into them,” she said.

“What?” I was amazed. “You want me to put them on?”

“It is not what I want that is important right now. It is what you want. You do want to step into them, non?”

With her free hand she began to scratch her fingernail across my chest and through my chest hair.

“No. I mean yes. I … I don’t know.”

“Cherie, you told me ‘ow you like to wear the panties when you are alone, oui?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“And I ’ave offered to ‘elp you, oui?” she whispered more quietly.

“Well, yes you did.”

“So I am ‘elping you now. Trust me, it will be nice,” she whispered into my ear almost inaudibly. With that said, she kissed my cheek and playfully pinched my nipple, and I thrust my chest out involuntarily and stood erect.

Well what the heck was I going to do, put my clothes on and leave? Of course I was not. So I stepped into the blue, silk panties that Madeline held out for me. She pulled them up my legs and to my hips. They fit well enough, and they were very sensual, of course. Now I was in uncharted waters. All my previous panty play was done alone in the privacy of my bedroom with the one exception of the bizarre “interview” conducted by my Aunt Sherrie shortly after she discovered my fetish. There I had a pair of panties on under my pants in the company of three women. Here I was with Madeline in the privacy of her bedroom, naked but for the silk panties, and ready for sex.

Something flashed into my memory as Madeline pulled the panties up my legs and rested them on my hips. It was something that Patti had said to me in the past. I thought about it as I looked at the tent that my erection made in the underwear: your fetishes are more enjoyable when you share them with someone. For a moment I remembered the look in Patti’s eyes as she washed my hands that day. I remembered how much she seemed to enjoy caressing and washing my hands, feeding her own fetish. I was aroused then, as was she.

Now I stood here with Madeline clad in a pair of her dark blue silk panties with a raging erection throbbing almost uncontrollably beneath it all. Madeline held me by the hips and gracefully slid her hands back and forth across the panties I wore. She caressed my bottom and my erection. The feel of someone else, this mature woman, touching me through the silk was greater than anything I had done to myself.

Patti was right. I had never felt anything so exquisite as the feel of Madeline’s fingers through the silk panties. That was when it first started dawning on me. It was the realization that Madeline was playing into my most private fantasies. She was orchestrating this seduction tailor made to my fetish and my desires. In doing so she had claimed control of me, and I was glad to give it to her.

Okay Madeline, I’m yours. What do you want me to do?

“That feels so good,” I admitted. I reciprocated by caressing her panties in the same way.

“Bon. Very good. I am glad that you like the feel. Now will you do something for me?”

“Yes. Of course. Anything.”

She placed her hands up on my shoulders and applied the slightest downward pressure. I sank to my knees in front of her and got a beautiful view of the champagne colored panties she was wearing. Madeline wrapped her fingers around the back of my head and without saying a word pulled me gently in to the crevasse between her legs.

“Now, slowly mon amore,” she said as she let her sheer robe fall to her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

She guided my lips to the smooth fabric of her panties. I pressed them lightly against her. Once, then twice, then three times I kissed her softly and gently as she said I should.

“Oui. Très bon, mon amore,” she sighed in her native tongue. “Très bon.”

I braced her hips with my hands beneath the sheer black robe. I slid my forefingers under the hip of her panties and held her lightly while kissing her through the garment with longer and longer contact. I breathed in deeply the smell of her body that came from that very sensitive area. The warmth of her soft flesh came through the silk, which was turning damp. I pressed kisses wherever there was silk, from her hips to the crevasse between her thighs. I searched for her womanhood. I kissed her as thoroughly and as imaginatively as I could. I played out every fantasy of kissing a panty-clad woman that I ever had.

She stroked her fingers through my hair and continued murmuring in French while I searched for her clitoris through the silk. I began to pay exclusive attention to it with my mouth.

Her panties were beautiful shimmering silk. A lacy black band wrapped around the waist and legs. The crotch began to dampen from the moistness of my mouth and her juices. A dark spot formed between her legs and there is where I concentrated. While kissing her wet spot I ran my hands across her panties, caressing her through the silk as she had done to me.

Perhaps not contented with letting me guide myself over her body, Madeline began to exert a subtle control. A tilt to the left from her hands and I moved my head into a different position. A tilt upward and my lips were repositioned. She used this subtlety to guide me to do exactly what she wanted me to do.

I pressed my tongue against her wet spot and wiggled it around a piece of flesh that was growing harder, almost erect.

“Voila,” she exclaimed, excitedly. “C’est bon. C’est très bon, mon amour. Encore. Le faire encore.”

“Huh?”

“Do that again, Cherie. S’il vous plaît.”

I pressed my tongue, a little harder this time, and wiggled again against the same spot.

“Cela l’est,” she exclaimed.

I pressed again, lightly.

“Ah, bon. You are learn…”

I cut her off with a nibble. I actually wrapped my mouth around the damp spot on her panties and gave a quick light nibble to that piece of flesh.

“Ah, encore,” she demanded.

I nibbled again, and again she called for more. I must have hit a very sensitive spot. Madeline lost control. Her panties got damper.

“Oui. Oh, oui Cherie. Encore, encore. Ahh, c’est bon. C’est bon.”

Madeline’s mind switched to her native language and she twitched twice two involuntarily. She took a few long, deep breaths.

She stopped me right there. After closing her eyes and composing herself she gently pushed me back on my heels. She made eye contact with me with the most serious look I have ever seen on a woman’s face. I felt as if I were about to be devoured, and suddenly I was nervous again.

Her robe fell around her ankles. I had not seen her untie it. She stood before me naked except for her panties. She pulled me up to her and fondled her breasts in her own hands. She had flawless white skin, and her breasts were large, round globes with small red nipples. Without saying a word she pushed them up with her hands and glanced down at them briefly. Looking back at me with that serious gaze, she offered them to me.

It was all instinct now. I licked the nipple of her breast and tasted her smooth skin. Closing my eyes, I wrapped my lips around her erect nipple, and gently sucked on her soft warm flesh. My right hand stayed on her hip, but my left hand drifted to the crevasse. Through the silk, I stroked the damp spot with the knuckle of my forefinger. I nibbled on her nipple.

“Oui, oui,” she whispered softly. “M’embrasser doucement. Me toucher lentement.”

I could feel her heart beating faster as her chest rose not with each stroke of her clitoris, but rather with each suck of my mouth on her breast. Each time she inhaled she squeezed my panty-clad erection between her fingers. I trapped her nipple between my teeth and pulled on it gently. Releasing it, I slid my tongue around the flesh and then sucked before beginning the sequence again.

This could have gone on forever, my sucking at her nipples while she fondled me through the silk panties she had put on me. I would have been content to maintain that position, mouth wrapped around her breast and finger stroking her sex, just as long as she kept fondling me. I was impossibly hard. My manhood raged and twitched and throbbed.

I do not know how long we continued this embrace of sucking and stroking. I could feel Madeline’s chest heave with each breath, and her body warmed. I was breathing through my nose so as not to break the seal on her body, but I must have been getting little air. I felt faint.

Perhaps just in time to prevent me from passing out, Madeline lifted my chin away from her breast.

“Lie back on the bed, Cherie,” she instructed.

“Sure,” I answered.

I lay back on the bed, my legs hanging over the edge, and my manhood stuck up through the panties like the Eiffel Tower clad in silk. Madeline stood before me and removed her own panties. Holding them in her left hand, she climbed up on the bed and crawled up my body until her legs straddled my hips.

“Let me leeberate thees for you, Cherie,” she said as she pulled my panties aside and freed my erection.

“Ah, voila,” she said. “C’est libre.”

It sprang into place as if wound up by a steel coil. Madeline gracefully stroked my bobbing rod. She smiled at me with a serious grin. It was not a playful, frolicking smile. She looked like a cat that was about to devour a mouse that it has been toying with. The game was fun, the hunt was enjoyable, and taunting the poor creature fulfilled a primeval desire. However, now it was time to put the poor victim out of its misery and sate the hunter’s hunger.

My hardness bobbed against her leg. The panty leg pulled against the base of my shaft. My member felt more sensitive than I could ever remember. My face felt hot. I felt more aware of my surroundings, as if all of my senses had been heightened.

Madeline repositioned herself slightly. I could feel her holding my erection and guiding me towards her womanhood.

“Are you ready, mon amore?”

“Ye…ah, I…I, ye…ah,” I stammered.

“Ah Cherie, relâcher. Relâcher, mon bel homme,” she whispered as she stroked my face with her free hand.

Madeline rocked her body back holding the base of my hardness in place. She rocked back and slipped me into her body. A warm, moist feeling enveloped my most sensitive flesh as she slowly, patiently slid back onto me. I held her hips and lifted my hips slightly pushing myself into her.

Madeline rocked back and took me deep into her body, but she did not sit still. Just as soon as she had rested into my lap she pulled herself forward. I could feel myself withdrawing from her body. I lifted my hips again to try and re-enter her, but she stopped me.

“No, no. Try to keep it in rytheem, Cherie,” Madeline said reassuringly. “I go up, but you go down.”

We repeated the movement awkwardly. Perhaps three or four more times before I found the proper rhythm passed, but soon Madeline was orchestrating a patient melding of our bodies. She controlled me gently, as she had when she directed my head as I knelt before her worshiping her panties and her body.

The panties I wore added a minor tension. I could feel the silk rubbing against my shaft, and it felt good, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Madeline’s body rising and lowering herself onto my sex.

We did not speak for what seemed like a long time. The tracks on the compact disk player changed at random. A variety of songs played on the machine. I lost all track of time and was humping Madeline from below to the whirring sound of the compact disk carousel as it rotated between songs. During that moment of near silence we fucked to the sound of our own quiet breathing.

Madeline quietly rocked herself up and down on my body, all the while giving me that serious smile that made me feel like a lamb led to the slaughter. I quietly raised and lowered my hips in concert with hers. I held her hips and her waist. I found that I did not need to support her body, so I reached for her breasts and fondled them.

Our pace never quickened very much. Madeline seemed to enjoy the slow steady cadence she had established. For me it was a departure from the furious pace with which I would flog myself in my quiet times alone with my panty collection. My typical panty fuck could be a blur both physically and mentally. I would pump my penis with my fist while my mind raced from one erotic fantasy scene to another. However, Madeline’s tranquil tempo had me relaxed. All my mind could focus on was Madeline and the feel of her body.

I felt the warmth and softness of her legs. I did not just sense that they were there. I could actually feel them on a different level, as if her legs straddling my body were a part of the sexual experience rather than just skin on skin. Of course, that is how it was with Madeline that night; every sensation was amplified. I could feel each of her fingers now pressed against my chest, her crimson nails scratching me ever so gently. I felt her breasts with my fingers and manipulated her nipples, taking the time to appreciate the hardness of them juxtaposed against her soft bosom. It was a patient awareness unfamiliar to me.

Her serious smile began to take on a peculiar visage. Her eyes glazed over and became watery. She seemed to loose focus of my face.

“I want you to use your finger, Cherie,” she said as she took my right hand from her breast. “’ere, I want you to play ‘ere.”

She placed my finger to her clitoris.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Play weeth it, mon amore. Play as you ‘ave weeth my neeple,” she answered. “Go back and forth, back and forth.”

I did not want to touch her too hard. I kept in mind what she had told me earlier about being gentle with a woman. So I decided to just barely touch her and work myself up to something more aggressive if necessary. What I did not count on was that my barely there touch is exactly what would send her over the edge.

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Le faire encore. Just like that. Back and forth, mon amore. Oui.”

“What, lightly just like this,” I said as I again barely stroked her clitoris.

“Oh. Oh! Oui, Cherie. C’est bon. C’est très bon.”

“Oh, I see. Just like this.” And again I gave her the same finger work three times in succession.

“Ah, yes. Oui. Ah, ah, oh.” She quickened her pace and rocked atop me faster.

I raised and lowered my hips in rhythm with her, and she pumped faster and faster as I fingered her. Our slow steady pace gradually turned frantic. Madeline was losing some of her composure. I could feel her nails digging into my chest a little harder, but I did not mind. Now she was pinching my nipples firmly and in cadence as she humped me. I squirmed slightly from my ticklishness, but allowed myself to enjoy it.

I fingered her clitoris a little faster, but I was not keeping up with Madeline’s pace of pumping herself up and down on my cock. Her eyes were closed. She was mouthing something, but I could not tell if it was in French or English. She was inaudible. The expression on her face changed. It looked like she might cry, but then she would smile. I just kept fingering her and raising my hips as best I could to keep up with her all the while amazed at how she had lost her comportment.

The songs in the compact disk player continued to change. The slow beat of the songs was all out of rhythm with our now up-tempo lovemaking.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Madeline started moaning loudly.

She leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of my head. Her breasts came down almost to my mouth. She pumped me faster now, faster than she had yet.

“Oh! Oh!” she cried out as she pounded down on my cock.

I thrust myself up and into her body on each of these furious humps. I felt a trickle of moisture roll off my forehead and down the back of my neck. I know that I was holding her hips more firmly than before. I let go of her hip with my right hand and palmed her breast. I squeezed her breast with each thrust I made into her body.

“Ah-ha. Ah. Ah-ha. Oh.” Madeline made a series of exclamations. Her face contorted, she slowed down. Her once furious pounding of my hardness subsided to a gentle slide.

The smile returned to her face as she sat back up on my body. She stopped humping me and just sat on my cock with a subtle grinding motion.

“What…happened,” I panted. I was half out of breath.

“J’ai arrivé,” she answered with a devilish smile.

“What?”

“Voila.”

“Aw, come on… Madeline,” I complained. “You know… I don’t under…stand you,” I huffed.

She leaned forward, gently placed her fingers on my cheeks, and kissed me on the mouth. She propped my lips open with her tongue and slid it inside my mouth. We kissed like this for another song. After the tune ended, she pressed her hand against my chest and leaned over to my ear.

“Mon amore,” she whispered, “what I said is that I ‘ave come.”

“You did?” I asked incredulously.

“Mmmm,” she purred. “But you, mon Cherie, you ‘ave not.”

“I know. I’m still hard. Oh, please get off me.”

Wait a minute. What the fuck did I say?

“What Cherie?” she asked puzzled.

“I mean…please…get me off. I can’t even think straight. Come on, Madeline. Please help me come.”

“I ‘ave an idea,” she said. “’Ere, let us roll over. Do not pull out of me, Cherie.”

We managed to roll to the other side of the bed with me still embedded inside Madeline’s wonderful pussy. Now I was on top looking into her eyes. She was still grinning with that evil smile.

“’Ere. Take me at your own pace, Cherie.”

I began humping Madeline slowly at first. It was not enough. I wanted sexual relief and the only way to get that was to pound her as she had been pounding me minutes ago. I quickened my pace.

Madeline squeezed my right ass cheek. She was still smiling, her eyes were closed, and she began panting again.

I humped her hard, but still there was nothing coming out of me. I pumped even more heatedly, and Madeline squeezed both my cheeks, but still nothing came – and neither did I.

Frustrated, I slowed the pace of my thrusts, but I slammed each one into her hard. Madeline’s eyes shot open and she dug her nails into my ass.

“Oh!” we exclaimed in unison.

I could still not get relief.

Pumping my manhood into her sex still, I eased off on her and started humping at a slower pace.

“I should’ve come by now. It’s never this much of a problem.”

I always come real good on a panty fuck. Each time I plow into the panties I get to squirt easily. Just the other night I came with no problem, now I’m actually fucking a living, breathing woman and I can’t come.

As I wondered why I was having this problem I repositioned my hand. Under Madeline were the champagne colored panties she had been wearing. I just thoughtlessly picked them up and tossed them onto her chest.

“Cherie, don’t treat your inability to come as a problem. You should cherish your staying power. ‘Owever, if you really must…”

Madeline took the still damp undergarments and stroked them against my face. As I inhaled I could smell her scent still on them from where her juices collected when I licked her through them. I felt her other hand wrap another pair of the panties around the base of my erection and fondle my testicles.

“Argh!”

I shot a stream of come into her pussy.

“Mmm, I thought so,” Madeline said. “Keep going. Encore.”

I continued pumping Madeline and she rubbed the panties across my face and chin. I squirted a second and then a third time.

“You are a true fetisheest, I see.”

“What…what do you mean?” I asked.

“You only ‘ad your moment when I brought these to you face, Cherie. As you Americans say ‘You are ‘ooked.’”

“Hooked?”

“Oui,” she giggled.

I kissed her and she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close.

“Do not worry. It is nothing to worry about. I understand.”

“Madeline, don’t tell me that you have some experience with these things.”

“Oh. But I do, Cherie.”

***

We lay in her bed recuperating from our lovemaking. I was on my back, and Madeline was cuddled up close to me. By now we had taken a momentary break, discussed the need for me to wash my clothes, put my work rags in the washing machine, and returned to the bed naked all the while.

We kissed and cuddled. Madeline’s body was so soft to my touch that I now could not help but be delicate with her. She gave me full access to anything I wanted to touch. For her part, she stroked my semi-erect penis very gently displaying her familiarity with how to touch a man.

“This wasn’t my first time,” I said. I didn’t know why.

“No?” she asked.

“I only did it once before.”

“Deed what?”

“Had sex,” I answered.

“’Ad sex or made love?”

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“I ‘ope not. ‘Aving sex is merely mechanical. It is devoid of passion or feeling. Deed we just now ‘ave sex or deed we make love?”

“We…we made love?”

“Are you asking me, Cherie?”

“No. We made love.”

“Oui, et c’était bon. Très bon.”

“Does that mean you liked it?” I asked.

“Oui, et vous?”

“Yes, I liked it too.”

“Cherie?”

“Yes, Madeline?”

“When deed you begin to understand French?”

Damn.

“The first time you ‘deed it,’ was it good for you?”

“No, it was too quick. I rushed through and came too soon and never enjoyed it.”

“And for ‘er?”

“She never spoke to me after that. As a matter of fact I never spoke to her either.”

“You never called ‘er or saw ‘er?”

“I was embarrassed.”

Madeline kissed me gently and reassuringly. She stroked the full length of my body with hers hands.

“Maybe she was too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it ‘er first time as well?”

“Yeah. Yes it was. We kind of dated a few times and then we decided to have sex. It wasn’t a big love scene or anything, and I thought she would tell all her friends how bad I was. I just avoided her after that night.”

“And you were so embarrassed that you never spoke to ‘er again? Weethout ever talking to ‘er about it? Weethout ever understanding ‘er feelings?” she asked.

“That’s right. I guess I did.” Now I felt ashamed.

“Mon amore, do not ever do that again with a woman. Next time, no matter the problem, talk to ‘er.” She kissed me again.

“I will. I talk to my girlfriend all the time.”

“But you ‘ave not made love to ‘er?”

“No.” Then it dawned on me. “Oh crap, Gail.”

“What about ‘er?” Madeline asked.