Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
You sit at a table quietly checking your phone, anxious, excited, nervous but thrilled, tonight is game night! You squirm in your short faun dress, it’s tight, clingy and cut low at the front. You have always got a thrill about going out like this; wearing no bra, only a silk thong, high heels and holdup stockings. Even at 43 you still get as excited as you did when you first went out like this. Your nipples feel each twist of the material as it moves when you move and it brushes them. Already they are hard, it’s one of your secret pleasures dispensing with that garment and it never fails to thrill feeling the air around your firm pert breasts. Your outfit is completed with a medium handbag and your choice of bright red nails and matching lipstick. After a while you stand up, back to the bar, facing your table and take a selfie then go back to your place at the table where you continue sipping your drink. After a few minutes you bite your lip and look around the bar. Checking no one is looking you lean forward taking your camera under the table. Another hurried glance then opening your knees and raising them, resting your hand on your thigh you aim your phone and then take an upskirt selfie. Heart thumping you check the result, it’s dark and unclear but it tells you all you need to know and what you suspected, flash is necessary. Again you look around, fear makes you believe all eyes are on you, but the reality is it’s still quiet and no one has noticed. It is as you had talked about with your boyfriend before, your just another girl on a night out taking a selfie. Now time for the real picture! trying to show your in the bar, using flash, but making every effort not to be caught.
You turn your chair through ninety degrees so you’re parallel to the table. Your shielded on one side by the table and on the other by the back of the booth you’re in. In front of you is the back of the booth and a few more chairs which go around the otherwise vacant table, behind the bar is still quiet. You lean forward, pulse racing, lean in what you hope is a casual way on the table, now your phone’s a mirror. You check the background, no prying eyes and the bar in view. However even after you have opened your knees no view of your thong. You rub your hand through your hair trying to look calm, but your heart’s thumping and your beginning to sweat. A wriggle then you raise a knee. Your hem begins to slip, stocking tops, now bear skin, and now..Click. Flash. Foot down .Knees together. Chair turned. Back to the girl chatting on her phone, taking selfies waiting for her friends. Well that’s the impression you hope for!
You are of course being watched by several people. You’re pretty and alone. Of course get attention! You check the picture, it’s good and round one of the game is completed as you send it to your boyfriend.
You relax temporarily, sipping your drink and looking around. A flush and a glow course over your skin. A shiver of delight ripples through you as goose pimples rise on your arms. The adrenaline and thrill of the game has kicked in. When you first started playing these games you were unsure but soon found the thrill of them addictive. It was flirting, it was teasing but always in another town, never your home in Houston. Somewhere no-one knew you and most importantly always a hotel where you and your boyfriend would complete the night together.
Now you prepare for round two. After another few minutes you lean forward keeping your hands and arms under the table, your phone is sat on the table by your side. You place your hands on your own thighs, even though it’s your hands and your own legs it still makes you flinch as you ready yourself for the task ahead. A quick glance. No watching eyes. It’s safe to continue. You raise your hips lifting your bottom off your seat as your hands pass up your tingling legs until they reach the elastic of your thongs’ waistband. A deep breath then you quickly pull it down to your knees. A glance around again, and still no one is looking, as you take your phone under the table and snap two quick pictures. You now lower your trembling hands to your ankles where you snap another picture before you remove the thong completely. With a racing pulse you sit back, your thong held tightly in one hand and the phone in the other. The contrast is stark in one hand something hard and dry, in the other something soft and damp. You suppress a grin of surprise as you realise why they are damp and you become aware of just how aroused you have become. Now for the final part of this round. Another look around then as one hand releases your thong letting it dangle from your finger the other presses and click ,flash! You drop the thong on the table by your drink then move the phone to change the angle, aiming for the bar in the background, drink and thong in the foreground, click, flash! Again a surge of adrenaline as you swipe them off the table onto the chair by your side.
Again that shiver of the thrill as you relax and send the pictures to your boyfriend. Part of the game is never knowing where he is, sometimes he’s kocaeli escort in the bar, sometimes outside and sometimes back at the hotel. If he’s in the bar it’s not always obvious but he always has made a prior visit to check out the safety angle. Now the game will take on its own life as you wait to receive your next instructions.
As you wait you realise that many people in the bar would have seen the camera flashes. You knew it was bound to have drawn people’s attention but you hope that all they will think is it’s just another woman who can’t resist the modern urge to take a selfie. However as you scan your phone a little inner voice of doubt begins to gnaw. It’s all part of the game and you know it, no fear would mean no thrill and no surge of adrenaline. Where would the challenge, the risk, the dare factor be if you were totally alone in a deserted bar?
You look up to see a mature couple coming across to your table. Before you have time to take that in, that it’s your table they are heading for, they have arrived. Just then your phone buzzes as a message arrives. Quickly you open it.
“Let them join you if they ask,” it says.
You look around, scanning the shadows, your boyfriend must be here watching! You relax and grin as you feel his protective glance from somewhere.
“Mind if we join you?” the man asks as they pull into the booth opposite you.
It’s a politely asked question but they never gave you a chance to answer. The lady slides around the seat to sit at the back end of the table looking out into the bar, her partner sits opposite you. You’re slightly flustered as the game starts to slip from your control, before you can collect yourself your phone rings, before they have a chance to get far with introductions. You answer quickly. It’s your boyfriend who decides that for the rest of the evenings phone calls that you will call him sir at all times during the calls and at the end you will address him as master. You smile, it’s an inspired twist, you know it’s a way to up the risk and chance of embarrassment. Exactly what you know excites you and all under his gaze and care. You say little but he makes you repeat “yes sir” and “yes Master” loudly and clearly. The couple’s ears clearly hear all this which makes you blush red. With a final, “thank you Master,” the call ends.
You look up from your phone straight into the newcomers intense eyes. He’s clearly staring at you and grinning. You break his glance and look over at her. She has seen your thong on the chair by you and is starting to reach across for it. You are too stunned to move, all you can do is feel your colour rise more, your pulse beating sharply and a bed of sweat roll down your back.
Silence lingers as they exchange looks and stare at you which makes you squirm with embarrassment.
“Well,” he finally says.
“Well indeed,” his wife says as they look at you.
“Yours I presume?” she says and holds up your thong.
As you try to compose yourself and work out what to say she passes it to her husband who holds it up to the light to look at it clearly. Not only is he having a close look but it’s on a clear view to any others watching. You’re too embarrassed to look around but others are watching. He gently touches the fabric before he inspects the inner gusset, then passes it back to his wife. She looks as well and then sits with them hanging from her finger, her elbow resting on the table, the gusset clear to you and the bar. Time seems to have stood still but in reality what has felt like an eternity has passed in a matter of seconds.
As you look at the thong you see the gusset is slightly stained and shows signs of clear earlier arousal. You feel ready to burst with embarrassment as since introducing themselves they haven’t spoken to you. Seconds seem to pass like minutes as your eyes move between hers, your thong and him. Embarrassment, worry and excitement all clear on your face.
“Jill,” the man says to his wife, “you’re embarrassing our new friend. Waving her thong about for the whole bar to see!”
Your relief is obvious, but you’re still concerned as he has stressed for the whole bar to see.
“Perhaps leave them on the table for her?”
Jill places them clearly by you but her hand lingers near them. As you move to pick them up her hand moves over them.
“They look so nice dear, it would be a shame to hide them and maybe the bar man might enjoy a better view of them,” Jill says, gesturing to a youngish man collecting glasses .
You squirm as it’s clear that they will be left on the table in front of you and they will stop you moving them. Having only briefly met them you already feel out of control and at their mercy. Time continues to pass and you’re aware that you’re sweating and starting to feel very exposed, sitting in just your dress. After an eternity Jill speaks.
“We saw you sat alone taking selfies…”
“Yes,” you stutter.
“The flash caught our eye, you seem to after some creative angles,” Jill says raising an gölcük escort eyebrow suggestively.
All the time to hide your nerves you have been fiddling with your phone.
“Mind if we take a look?” she asked playfully, taking your phone from your numb hand and starting to look. You can’t believe how shock has made you so weak and so feeble, dimmed reflexes and resistance.
You know what’s on your phone and are mortified, you begin to stammer out a request for it back but she’s found the most recent pics, your legs open your panties hanging around your knees, your pussy clearly on show in the bar.
“These are good shots aren’t they George?” she says, passing it over to her husband.
You sit dumbstruck not sure how to react , they have seen your most intimate pics, the most intimate parts of your body and now not only have you lost control of your thong but you have now lost control of your very, very personal pictures. Pictures which were intended only for your eyes and your boyfriend’s eyes, never for anyone else.
Again a silence fills the air heavy with possibilities but building steady pressure on you causing you to squirm more and more. So many questions are obvious but what do you say and what do you do?
Unable to contain yourself any longer you begin to explain. You try to sound composed and in control but you speak faster and faster, words babbling from your mouth.
“Look I can explain. It’s all just a game I play with my boyfriend. He likes me to flirt. To show off. He sets me challenges. No one else was ever meant to see those pictures,” you gabble.
“But we have seen. And we have seen your thong, maybe we should hand it in to the bar man?”
A pause again as the barman gets closer.
“No,” you blurt out, “I have to bring it home, it’s all part of the game.”
“Maybe you should ask nicely for the thong back?”
All the time the bar continues to fill and the bar man gets closer.
“May I please have it back?” you meekly ask.
“Have what back?” he replies.
“My thong please.”
“The thong you took off in this bar?” he challenges.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“So ask for the whole thing please.”
“May I have my thong back? The one I took off in this bar,” you nervously ask.
“The thong you took off in this bar to take a selfie of my own pussy.”
“Yes,” your throat seems to tighten with embarrassment.
“So ask for it back properly.”
Wishing the seat would open up and swallow you, you say, “Please may I have my thong back. The thong I took off in this bar to take a selfie of my pussy.”
“Pardon I can’t hear you? Can you George?” his wife chips in.
“No she’s too quiet.”
Louder this time you say, “Please may I have my thong back. The thong I took off in this bar to take a selfie of my pussy.”
“I still can’t hear her, can you?” Jill challenges.
Louder still you repeat but again they respond saying they can’t hear you. Frustration and fear grow with your redness and blushes.
“Please may I have my thong back. The thong I took off in this bar to take a selfie of my pussy!”
It’s almost a shout now and you’re very aware of several people turning round to stare at you as Jill theatrically hands your thong.
“Now tell me about that phone call.”
Still burning from the embarrassment of having to shout for the whole bar to hear you stuff your thong into your bag. A quick glance around now confirms that many people heard and saw the whole incident. The giggles, the looks, the frowns, the smiles from various people conveying a whole range of judgements. You feel so small, tiny, belittled by strangers in front of an audience. It’s strange as your head spins with thoughts and emotions, this was the game, the intention but reality and fantasy are two separate things. You’re trying to sort out how it actually makes you feel, whether you’re secretly pleased or offended. The fact that this isn’t an easy and clear task is all part of the newness and strangeness of it. Added to that mix the couple are still at your table and asking questions. Your mind is too much of a mess to make up a story to cover the phone call so you opt for truth. Explaining that its a game played with your boyfriend, a prelude to sex, foreplay as such. As a game it arouses you both. You pause as you reveal this, you meant to explain not reveal your innermost feelings. They leave you in silence again which only makes it worse for you, the more you say the more you feel you have to explain to divulge. The lack of reply or response from them is like a pit pulling you uncontrollably into it, spinning faster and faster as you bare your soul. Finally you finish talking and look at them.
Their silence seems to challenge your very being, question your own worth and judgement. It humiliates you in a way words could never and as you sit there your eyes finally cast down you become aware of your own body and breathing.
Your breathing fast, excited, exhilarated izmit sınırsız escort and wet between your legs.
Your phone rings.
“Hello,” you answer.
George and Jill’s eyes turn to yours and they lean in closer trying to hear what’s said.
“Thank you master,” you say after a short while.
Loudly and theatrically Jill calls across to George, “She’s got her Master on the phone, maybe I should ask everyone to be quiet so she can hear more clearly.”
“What a good idea!” he replies.
She speaks to you, it’s hard to concentrate on her voice and the one on the phone. Her voice despite being right next to you is loud and you’re aware it will carry. A frantic look around and yes the sniggers and looks confirm this.
“No, no it’s fine thanks,” you say but now the questions are on the phone and once again you are explaining yourself.
As you explain and you can’t help seeing the looks on Jills’ and Georges’ faces. Intrigue, excitement and curiosity. You try to avoid looking at them as it’s easier to hide your embarrassment that way but somehow their eyes, their silences draw your attention creating vertigo inducing voids which pull you into them.
Then a silence on the line, another gulf swallowing you up. Finally you glance at your watch and say, “yes Master,” before hanging up.
Once more you check your watch, then carefully look from Jill to George and back to Jill. You bite your lip and swallow. If only they would say something it would be so much easier, it would give you an opening, but all that is forthcoming is silence. You feel silly crashing into new uncharted levels of shame and embarrassment but at the same time a secret thrill running through you, at every turn a warmth builds between your legs, each bout of silence, each new act raising your pulse, your every sense becoming more alive . All of your senses seem to be rerouted to your groin which quivers with anticipation.
After another deep breath, you swallow and face up to the challenge laid down over the phone.
“Jill, this might sound odd but can I ask a favour please?” you say, looking at your phone trying to avoid her eyes and anyone else’s.
Another deep breath, a gulp then you gabble out, “Would you take some pictures of me on my phone, playing pool?”
More silence rolled across the table before George spoke.
“Sorry I didn’t quite catch that, could you repeat what you said.”
You know that despite blurting it out that he heard what you said. Your face flares red again as do more intimate areas. The message over the phone was clear, you have ten minutes to send five pictures of your bare ass from different angles ( making sure to catch people in the background), as you lean over the pool table taking shots. Your boyfriend was so excited about how tonights game had progressed that a wave of creativity had filled him. His idea was to get you to act out a fantasy you had discussed but rather than in the fantasy it being him slyly filming, it would actually be a stranger which seemed to excite the both of you more than the original idea.
So again you repeat yourself speaking in a slow clear voice, looking at George directly, “Would you take some pictures of me on my phone,playing pool? Did you hear that time?”
George nods and looks over at Jill, “I think we can help the lady out don’t you dear?”
So you find yourself walking over to the pool table with them, your heart is thumping loudly. You’re flushed, excited and each time your legs pass each other you’re aware of the moisture between them. You smile a shy private smile as your arousal builds, this is already a night to remember and it is still early. You cast a quick glance around and yes you notice several faces are turning to watch the three of you crossing to the table which is thankfully unoccupied.
You reach in your handbag for change for the table as you consider what next.
As you fumble about you realise that you will need to give your phone to one of them, it will mean you will not be in control of it, you will need to trust them not to pry or do more than just take pictures. It’s a big step, trust and hope spiral in you as does fear worry excitement and an ever increasing sense of erotic thrill and tension. It’s the excitement of a first date, the what if factor, the ‘I damn well did that!’ element which makes life so electric, which changes you from merely existing to feeling fully alive. This is the stuff memories are made of, the thrill and adventure which you know you will look back on with a sense of pride and pleasure if you can just keep the balance right.
“OK let’s get started,” you say, finding the change, “who plays, who takes pictures?”
They look at each other then Jill suggests that they take turns at each, which seems sensible leaving only the issue of the phone.
Despite it being a simple to use device you remember past experiences when a stranger offers to help you take a selfie or a picture of you and your boyfriend. Not everyone is a gifted photographer! So you try a test pic of you sitting by each of them in turn. A little voice of reason also chirps in, you now have a record of them so you feel safer. As it turns out they both have no trouble with the phones camera, no fingers in front of lenses, no pictures of the ceiling and any of the rest of the whole plethora of mistake gems.
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