End of session.
He gets dressed but, unlike customers who show up with feminine underwear and leave hiding them in their bag, gives him his. Guêpière, matching thong and garter belt, black seamed stockings ... His efforts touch me for what they reveal in his attention to himself, to her feminine part as well as to our meeting. It’s obvious that he’s dressed up to come and see me.
As he pulls on his stockings, being careful not to slip them on, I think you could be born a man, have a big red beard, belly, muscles, callused hands, a young girl's delicacy, and that having all these traits together makes you devilishly touching.
From my observation post, I throw :
- Your thong is poorly put on. It will get in your way under your jeans.
- Oh thank you, Madame.
He has a very feminine little gesture, pull up one side of the lace in a pelvic wave.
Before leaving, he presents himself again in front of me. Blue jeans and black T-shirt, belt too tight, socks pulled over her stockings, thin glasses, backpack, ready to get back on track. He has the same baby cheeks as when he arrived, the face more relaxed under his airs not to touch it, the same aura of a computer engineer-geek to whom we would leave the car, car keys and parking space.
– How do I look ? he asks smiling, in a parody of attention.
- Above suspicion, but i know your bad thoughts.
He laughs.
Once at the door he smiles at me again, of mischief and gratitude. Her eyes curl behind her glasses. Only he knows that under my midnight blue dress, draped so chic with its golden brooch, my bra is soaked in sweat, my champagne stockings, my wet panties and my thighs from the lubricant I used to fuck her to the hilt.
Above suspicion me too.
We greet each other like two thieves delighted with their good deed.
You liked this text ? Send me a ko-fi !
© Madame Lule, cannot be used, in whole or in part, without my permission.
