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Panty slave stories

Much to my delight, an addition had been made.


Panty Slave Stories

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You never cease to impress me during our kinky xxx sex stories and phone porn sessions!

Chantal
Age: I'm 30 years old
What is my ethnicity: Latvian
My sexual identity: Male
Tint of my iris: I’ve got lively blue eyes
I know: French
Body features: My figure type is quite chubby
I like to drink: My favourite drink vodka
Hobbies: Listening to music

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I take it as another of his devotion. When I've sipped my wine, and smelled my rose, and sampled my cheese; I feed the final morsel to my love and whisper in his ear. It is at this point that sometimes I blindfold him, denying him the look up my skirt that he is craving.

My panty slave

James isn't a cross dresser, but upon finding my panties, he is supposed to take the first opportunity to put them on under his suit pants. I've never known him to lie to me. On days when he has something frilly of mine on, he strips down to his panties and spends the hour he has to wait for me doing house chores.

James is in shape; his muscular thighs and hips stretch the panties out, and form a tight silky prison for his cock.

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I love the way his blue eyes stare up at me from between my thighs, filled with pure desire. It never takes him too long to remember. He likes me to wear bikinis, not the thongs that most men want to see on their women.

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I make him wait. This way at some point in the day he finds out that he is going to have it his way when he comes home. I pull my skirt back a little more, and encourage him to kiss my exposed skin. He's mesmerized by the way they curve over my mound. His eyes tear themselves away from my still covered pussy, just long enough to lock with my eyes and silently plead for what he wants.

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It usually doesn't take him long to make me cum right there in my panties; gyrating against his mouth as I moan in ecstasy from his efforts. Take me to the bedroom. He says he stays hard all day when he wears my underwear. He also isn't selfish about his fetish; we don't play with my panties all the time. I don't know why I married a panty slave.

Sonia's panty slave

I assure you, I get all the things I like in the bedroom on a much more frequent basis than he gets to enjoy his little predilection. And I do. I feel extra naughty in my soaked panties as he guides me down the hall to our bedroom. His mouth finds the soft spot on my inner thigh, right below the leg opening of my panties.

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It's not like I didn't know about James' fetish before I said yes to his marriage proposal. Because I am aroused, a moan escapes my mouth, a little wetness escapes my sex. The feeling of the pressure of his mouth and the silkiness of my panties is divine. I usually wear thigh high stockings on these days, the only day I dare. He tells me he loves the power of this position, his goddess pulling him to her while she writhes in pleasure.

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One day I even made a point of meeting him for lunch and inspected his panty encased dick, he was quite erect, of course that could have been because I made him show me in the elevator on the way down to the lobby of his office building. The good news for both of us is that by this time I am one creamy chick.

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I usually put my hand on the back of his head and pull him into me while I orgasm. A smile creeps across my face as the moment extends just past comfortable.

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James leans over and kisses my stocking tops. He is mindful of my clit and spends stories of time giving this part of my sex plenty Panty attention through the panties. It's almost like telling to eat his vegetables before desert, except my man loves his vegetables. This is my cue to spread my legs a little wider and encourage him to come closer to the object of his desire. And sometimes I just pull my skirt all the way back and show James my panties.

I'm typically more conservative, but I must admit feeling turned on in my flirty skirt and sexy lingerie during the day; imagining what I'm going to do to my kinky little lover later that evening. It's quite a slave feeling to be both the recipient of the orgasm, and then get thanked for allowing the man to give it to me. He likes it when I am in charge. I'm always a little nervous I'm going to suffocate my husband in my cunt. I told him he pleases me without them, and he is to do as I say.

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His kisses are punctuated with little licks and nibbles here and there. He is not allowed to use his hands during this time, and he struggles with balance and keeping my legs where he wants them. He works his lips, tongue and teeth back down my inner thigh to my stocking top, then switches legs and works from the stocking top back up to my panties. When I've recovered enough to make my words come out right I command him to look at me. I always leave him something silky or satiny.

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He stays between my thighs as I come down from my peak arousal, nuzzling my panties, but not daring to press too hard against my overly stimulated sex. Were I not so aroused, I'd be giggling from slave tickled in this story spot. I make him wear bikinis too, and they are always very feminine, in chick colors like pink or pearl or teal, with lacy trim or girly patterns. James has been hungry for me all day, and cannot Panty for a traditional dinner and the usual end of day unwinding.

Sometimes I make him stop altogether and pour me another glass of wine, prolonging his agony. Typically there is evidence of my arousal in the crotch of my panties, eventually his wandering eyes find this damp spot and lock on. In fact, James told me he would only play if and when I wanted to play. He once complained, saying he could please me much more if his hands were in play. He devours me, pulling my juices through my panties and onto his tongue, and I give him plenty to lick up. Which I think would make a funny headline.

The wine is to relax me, the rose is to thank me and the cheese and fruit are to restore my strength so I can ravage him. It is part of his need to be controlled, but also his generous way.

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I pull back the hem of my skirt, slowly, teasingly. Once I give permission, it will be a while before I see them again.

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He loves the feel of the slippery material on his gorgeous cock, and hugging his buttocks. His dick isn't very hard in his panties. To verbalize it ahead of time is even to this day too awkward for me. It is in this moment that I understand him and his kink, everything about the moment is pure sex. He licks and kisses this spot with care not to get carried away and taste the for now forbidden fruit. When I get home I am led to the couch by my man and am served a glass of wine, a flower; usually a story, but often something else, and a plate of cheese and fruit.

He isn't into bondage or spanking or any of the more traditional bdsm fare, although Panty sometimes incorporate these things into our kinky love making. His eyes find mine and I wait for him to do what he's supposed to do, we've done this too many times for me to have to command him.

He had been quite up front when we were dating about his desire to be controlled by a strong woman, and the instrument of her control was to be her underwear. The sensation of his lips caressing the spot where the stockings end and my bare leg begins is exquisite. His eyes become fixated on them. When I am in a mood to be kinky, to be in control of my man, and to give him slave he craves; I don't have to say anything, in fact I can't say anything. I like that I can essentially handcuff him without the need for handcuffs. He grins and stands. He brings his mouth close to my panty covered pussy.

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He helps me up from the couch and my skirt falls back into place. He reaches out his hand and I take it. His eyes scan over every part of my underwear, and my body. When I've pulled back the skirt far enough to reveal my stocking tops and the first hint of bare thigh I stop. My arousal is such that I can continue with our sexy play with little in the way of inhibition, and he is about to get sex the way he loves it the most.

He works hard to allow us to have all the play time we will need that night. Occasionally for variety sake he returns to my thighs or kisses my pelvic bone and hips, right above the waistband, but always returns quickly to my pantied pussy. Once there I find everything is the way it's supposed to be.

The panty slave

He was so into my orgasm, he forgot about his own cock. James gets home from work before I do. Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements. Instead, I slip a pair of my panties in his gym bag, or his brief case, or dangle them from the rearview mirror of his car before he leaves for work in the morning.