The Underwear She Can't Remove
Every female has that one pair of underwear that makes her feel complete and sensual.
The reasoning behind this differs from one woman to another. Perhaps it's the piece that highlights her curves more. It could also be the shade that matches her skin tone flawlessly. It might even be the underwear she wore the night of the most sensational sex of her life. Or it could be simply the one that's tight enough to act as a subtle invitation, inflaming her with the desire to seduce effortlessly.
For Theresa, it was a black pair of panties with floral prints. They had a touch of transparency in the front to be a tease not only for those observing her, but for her as she stood before the mirror as well.
These panties clung to her skin snugly, positioning themselves so that they brushed her clitoris slightly as she moved, causing a shiver to run through her body. When she wore them, she felt like the most alluring woman on the planet.
They were her best friend. Time and time again, she wore them whenever she needed to feel sexy. They didn't discriminate - dates, work, the gym, and shopping sprees. If she felt down, her confidante of a pair of panties would always provide her with a self-esteem boost.
However, one day - a seemingly normal day - those panties may have ventured into uncharted territory...
The day commenced as any other. She had the day off and had a list of errands she had to complete. Her dark locks fell around her face in soft waves as she wore a baggy pair of jeans and a black top. On the surface, she seemed average in regards to her physicality. An athletic build with a lean, toned body, paired with a round face, hazel eyes, and wavy, chestnut brown hair.
She approached her dresser and her previously chosen underwear: her 'sexy' black panties with floral designs on them.
She switched out her current attire for the more seductive option. She pulled them up her legs, past her knees, and slid them up as far as they could go. But something didn't seem right.
Suddenly, she asked herself, "Have I gained weight?"
In the mirror, she saw her long, slender body standing mostly naked, and she noticed her muscles looking a bit more defined than she had recollected. But her thighs were a little more toned and her rear a bit more firm than she had presumed.
"Hmmm... maybe the gym is just starting to pay off," she hypothesized.
"Crikey, I look so fucking sexy right now!"
She couldn't help but admire her body - it was practically begging to be ogled at. She let her fingers roam over her bare legs and along her torso as she stared deeply into her reflection, reminiscent of how a man might leer at her.
The errands could wait. She needed to indulge in this newfound confidence.
But something was still amiss. She couldn't understand why she was so aroused - it wasn't the new found confidence that usually triggered her sexual fantasies or the sight of an enticing man that caught her eye. It was something else... It was the image of her naked in the mirror.
She found herself growing increasingly turned on. Her hips swayed as she descended from her apartment building and made her way down the sidewalk. The notion of going back to the mirror and checking herself out consumed her thoughts.
As she veered toward the parking lot, she realized something startling. Her panties felt tighter than usual. They weren't uncomfortable, but they felt tighter and tighter with each step she took.
The panties' teasing touch - so enjoyable - was becoming almost intense.
She was growing more horny than she had ever before experienced. Each step sent more tingling pulses down her legs, gathering in her most private area. The memory of her reflection admiration lingered in her mind and did nothing but excite her further.
It wasn't until she was in the car and driving to her first stop that she realized it had been months since she'd worn them. The allure that used to accompany these underpants had seemingly morphed into something different, more intense, more captivating.
At the store, she realized they were even tighter. The tightness amplified with each heartbeat and it was near unbearable to maintain her composure. She felt as if she was on the edge of climax.
She managed to purchase everything she needed, check out, and get back in her car. She had never desired a return to the reflective surface of her bathroom mirror more.
Upon finally reaching home, she slipped off to her bedroom, ready to embrace the unknown feeling these underwear had lately instilled in her.
She laid on her bed, legs trembling from the teasing touch of the pants, and relished in the feeling, lost in the excitement and almost impossible attempts at restraint.
Now, Theresa began to ponder what had changed. Silently, her mind raced. Did time and frequent use change their physical properties? The pants had brought her to such a new level of confidence, expanding her sexual fantasies and desiring? Or was this a different mental perception that altered the sensations she had felt? As she slipped into even more tension, she felt it - a touch, a mild burn, like when a panty becomes damp from her arousal.
Her patience reached its limit, tears streaming down her face. The tingles and intense arousal reached new heights as her legs started to overtake the entire reflective surface.
And there it was - she could see her genitalia in the mirror. The pants were becoming one with her body. They shifted and wrapped around her, fitting themselves to her form. She could feel them like an extension of her, grasping her legs and wrapping around her crotch, grasping her clit.
She felt more attractive than she'd ever been, and now they were a part of her.
Breathing heavily, she hurriedly slammed the door shut behind her and didn't even attempt to put her belongings away. All she could think about was reaching her bedroom mirror.
Without a second thought, she stripped her trousers off, sinking to the floor in front of the mirror. Moans of intense desire escaped her as her hand hastily grabbed her underwear and began to caress her pussy.
Looking at her reflection, she experienced an electric jolt. While she looked identical to how she had earlier in the day, she had never been more turned on by a visual before.
"This isn't sufficient... I need more..." she considered mentally, and attempted to remove her underwear.
They refused to move.
"Wait... what?" she exclaimed.
She tugged on them again.
Still, they wouldn't budge.
"What the hell?" she sat up in fear.
Instantly, she felt a joining occur between her and her underwear, a connection she knew was unbreakable.
Her intuition from earlier in the store had been accurate.
"No.. no no.. what the hell?"
Elated, she experienced a wave of pleasure that intensified beyond anything she had previously experienced.
Her cunt felt like static mixed with the best sex she'd ever had, as her clit exploded with pleasure and a sensation of deep fucking like no toy or man had given her before engulfed her completely.
Her legs gave out as a fusion of terror and supremely depraved desire overtook her simultaneously. She struggled to stand, only to fail as her underwear launched a sensory onslaught that dwarfed anything imaginable, leaving her on her stomach.
"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME?" she screamed in shock and confusion, unsure if her words were born from fear or anticipation.
As she glanced back into the mirror, she saw she'd assumed the doggystyle position, her face drenched with sweat and ruined makeup as she acknowledged that she had lost control of her body.
The feeling of being fucked quickly intensified to such a degree that it resembled intercourse, and it accelerated at a rate that no partner had ever approached, leaving her on the verge of orgasm.
As the sensations coursed through her from head to toe, a primal scream erupted from her, as the saintly orgasm she had never before experienced coursed through every inch of her. She was not a female squirter, but it didn't matter because the flood of liquid that rushed out of her and pooled around her was nothing compared to the emotional release she experienced.
She fainted, lying flat on the floor as she struggled to breathe normally. Afterwards, the connection snapped, and the device that had transformed her reverted to its original form: a normal pair of underwear.
It was all so real.
"What the hell did you do to me?" she muttered to herself, examining the garment in her hands.
They were exactly as they had always been. The black underwear which was cut cheekily but not a thong, embellished with a delicate floral pattern, and a touch of semi-transparent material in the front. What was so wrong with them that they would suddenly take control of her sexual desires and torture her with the most profoundly arousing sensations she had encountered?
She scrutinized every detail. There was nothing wrong with them. They'd been her go-to lingerie for more than a year, even. Why, after all that time, would they suddenly decide to enslave her sexual senses? She must have been incredibly horny - it had been weeks since her previous encounter, and she couldn't stand to be completely alone.
With a shiver, she chalked it up to a wild imagination and tossed them in the wash. After all, what happened had to be fantasy. There was no way that what she believed had taken place could possibly be reality.
Time passed as oftentimes time does. The memories of that day stopped bothering Theresa.
She resumed living her regular life, attempting to keep her focus on more pleasant, lucid thoughts.
She remembered how petrified and perplexed she had been when she realized the knickers attached themselves to her. She recalled how she couldn't control her own body - as if the pair of underwear had taken over, fashioning her into an unparalleled, unrelenting carnal creature yearning relentlessly for sense-blasting satisfaction to survive.
She couldn't forget the screams, a mix of terror and raw desire, as she lay helplessly, like in doggy pose, yelling to stop yet craving more at the same time.
She despised it, yet she couldn't deny the fascination. Her fantasies grew dull, even with a man most women would fantasize over. He was perfect in every aspect, and his sex was something she dreamt of before the panties invaded her life.
But it left her cold. She couldn't reach an orgasm, despite his best efforts, and she finally kicked him out in anger.
She couldn't remove them. She tried everything but they fused with her skin and cunt, becoming more powerful with each of her attempts.
"I won't take this anymore... I'm throwing those things away," she said decisively.
She walked to the drawer where she hid them, buried at the bottom.
Flashbacks of the experience hit her hard.
She shivered in revulsion.
But then she felt the familiar wetness between her legs.
"Wait, period? This isn't the right time," she thought.
Her hand explored, only to find she was soaking wet. The cravings for release were overwhelming.
Her clit throbbed, begging for attention. Frustration seeped from every pore in her body.
She viciously pleasured herself to bring the edge, longingly anticipating the orgasm's relief.
Her body tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure.
The release didn't come. Again, and again, she tried. Eventually, it hit her.
The panties didn't rob her of her desire.
The tension before the orgasm could continue increasing.
But the panties stole her ability to feel the orgasm.
She screamed in exasperation as realization set in.
They'd used her, serving her in ways no human or toy could ever dream of.
Now, they'd disabled her human pleasure.
Tears streamed down her face as she tossed them in the trash can.
Back to her room, she collapsed on the bed, utterly defeated.
"Why do I hate you so much!" she cried in self-disgust.
Her clit begged for touch and release as she whimpered in want.
Rashes of pleasure overwhelmed her as she played with herself, only delaying the much-longed climax.
She stared at herself in the mirror, lusting after her toned body, her long hair and lovely tits. But her quads shone from gym workouts, and she knew her glutes were just as beautiful.
She held this position for what felt like hours. Unable to move, the torture continued. Suddenly, the pleasure diminished.
She couldn't escape the fear. The panties had no intention of letting her go.
She trudged back to the trash can and picked them up.
The tingles returned, leaving her with no choice.
Her arms spread out with the illusion of being held, knees touching the floor.
Tied before the mirror, intimate with her body, she couldn't resist the sexual urge.
She marveled at her figure, looking like a thing of beauty. Every stroke of her eyes to her physicality only fueled her desire, wanting more.
Moments dragged, but nothing happened. As she stared longer, her body started to shift.
Suddenly, she found herself in a different position. The panties hooked her into a standing pose, face-first to the mirror.
She took deep breaths, still unable to move. She couldn't see her glutes, but she could feel the intense craving for touch and orgasm building.
Minutes passed. Her body was stiff, but she could bear the wait no more. She revolted, but her movements were slow and mechanical.
It took mere seconds to find the trash can.
Damn, she whispered.
She picked up the panties and held them between her fingers.
"I must destroy these," she muttered.
She had taken them off before, but they returned, fusing back even stronger.
They'd turned her into a countryside farm animal, a slave to her need.
Angrily, she climbed back on the bed, putting them back in place. Instantly, the tingles swept through her, paralyzing her in submission.
She could only watch her body, enamored by what she saw.
Her brazen sexuality and hunger stirred the deepest desire that only her panties could satisfy.
With tears of confusion falling, she slammed the bed, failing to escape the intense stimulation.
She'd been teased and abused by the panties, left with no relief in sight.
She was under their control now. They'd taken her pleasure and twisted it.
Tears kept flowing as she sat alone, starting to understand.
The panties had molded her, changing her. The orgasms were never gone; they were just out of reach.
It wasn't fair. She could orgasm but was inhibited by feeling the climax.
She needed to maintain her sanity.
Trembling with a mixture of frustration and fear, she crept back to the trash can.
Steeling herself, she removed the panties and placed them in the bin, sealing her troubled fate. She closed the lid and knelt, head lowered.
"I'll never let you control me again," she whispered, hoping to be released.
Her hand found her clit, longing for the cathartic release.
A loud bang ripped through the air as she brought herself to an explosive climax.
She knelt on her bed, lost in a sea of ecstasy, finally unchained from the panties' bondage.
She found herself unable to move. An undetectable restraint held her firmly in place.
The need to urinate was incredibly urgent.
"Is anyone here? I really have to go to the bathroom," she timidly yelled into her empty room.
Her arms seemed to move independently of her, reaching behind her back as if to apply handcuffs. Her back was then immobilized in a rigid, upright position.
Meanwhile, her panties became even more snug against her bladder.
"No, this can't be happening," she mumbled before a gentle touch began to tease her clitoris again.
Waves of pleasure emanated from the panties, and she quickly realized her bladder could no longer endure the pressure.
She'd give anything to just get up and use the restroom, but a pair of panties were asking for mercy instead.
"Please... Please, let me just get up and use the bathroom, and then you can continue this," she whispered almost apologetically.
Fighting against her restraints, she tried to grab her hand and press it against her crotch or tighten her legs. But she was completely immobile. She could only strain her muscles in a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable.
"Please... Please...," her sobs grew thicker as she knew her bladder was about to burst.
"Ughhh... Ughhhh..." was all she could manage to say as her bladder released a few drips, dampening her panties.
As the drops hit her panties, she felt something unfamiliar.
A tongue slithered into her vagina, and she couldn't resist.
The dam popped with a loud gush as she screamed from the onslaught of physical pleasure.
"Holy shit! Yes, yes! Keep doing that!" she exclaimed as she peed all over her bed.
The pleasure kept rising, and she thought it would peak once more.
However, her first orgasm broke through ten days' worth of sexual tension. A complete wave of euphoria spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She didn't even know if she was screaming, nor did she care.
At that moment, she understood.
The panties had won. There was no point in fighting anymore.
As the orgasm started to wane, she sensed something new.
She discovered a new goal in life.
Effectively, she vowed to show others the path to this new sexual realm.
And she would start with her best friend Jenny.
Read also:
- Spotted Observing
- Secrets in the Shadows, Episode Thirteen
- Lisa's Milk Issue: Chapters 6-7
- Boot Him Out Part 3
Source: www.nice-escort.de
