Worship

The scenario was completely set when the phone rang.

This time Susan would spend more time than usual, staying two nights at our house before leaving, in the morning of the third day.

She arrived the day before and left early, soon after breakfast, to do some shopping in the city, from where she would return by dinner time. It would be more than enough time to organize my session down to the smallest detail, taking advantage of the unusual conditions offered by a visit longer than usual.

The critical issue, for that matter, was whether the length of stay would entail shower and so, a change of underwear. And a two-night stay fully meets this requirement.

I got up as soon as she left and walked to the guest room, where she spent the night. The bed was undone and her scent was still very intense, on the pillow and the sheets. I sniffed them at length, before entering the bathroom, where she had just taken a shower. The traces of her bath were still noticeable, as the steam in the mirrors and the strong mixture of smells, shampoo, soap, deodorant. I searched for some pubes left in the drain and got lucky: I was able to recover four of them, which I removed carefully.

The objects of my quest were very easy to retrieve: her bra and panties were the latest items left in the laundry hamper. There they were, glorious in their spotless whiteness, expecting the long-awaited tribute that I had planned for them, as soon as I heard of her coming. And I was preparing a shrine where I could worship them properly.

I pulled the two-piece out of the hamper, took it to the bedroom and put both parts on the bed, on the spot where they'd be placed if their owner was laying there, wearing them. Then I took the pubes and placed them on the panty gusset.

I was exactly at this stage when the phone rang. It was Susan.

- Are you still at home? Haven't you found, by chance, a scarf I think I forgot there? I'm sorry to bother you but could you do me a favor and see if I left it there? Maybe in the entry hall or in my bedroom... I'll wait while you search.

- There's nothing like that in your bedroom. Let me check the hall.

Only after I've answered her I realized that I had just been betrayed by the haste of my reply.

- Are you in in my bedroom? What on earth are you doing there?

- No. No. I was just passing by, looking for an old sweater I can't find anywhere. I thought maybe your mother had left it here, along with other old clothes.

- But shouldn't it be in your closet?

- No... yes... I don't really know, for sure.

And suddenly, in the midst of my disorientation, I felt an irrepressible urge to confess to her the real reason to be in her room

- Please don't be angry with me. I was just trying to make up for missing you. I think you can understand. I've been planning this for so long!

- What? What the hell are you talking about? Are you messing with my things? I can't believe you're doing it... oh my god! You are messing with my things, aren't you? Say it! Admit you are touching my stuff ... oh my god! You're such a pervert! That's it. I don't want any of those clothes anymore. Not after you touched them, and god knows what else you've done with them. You can have them... You can have them all, for all I care.

- Jesus! You do have a vivid imagination! What the hell would I be doing with your clothes? Wearing them? Do you think they'd fit?

- No, but they certainly can fit your perversion. What's with the heavy breathing, huh?

Mechanically, I found myself appeasing a huge boner in my shorts, sliding my hand down my dick. She got it right: I was masturbating while talking to her on the phone and feeling blessed for it.

- What are you doing? I demand you to tell me what on earth are you doing. I'm entitled to it because those are my clothes you are playing with. I want to know, right now, what's happening there. I order you to tell me.

Her dominating attitude turned me on even more and, suddenly, I felt an uncontrollable urge to admit to her that I was doing everything she feared, disclosing all the sordid details.

- I'm calling you on Skype and don't you dare not to answer.

Wasting no time, I ran to the study and grabbed my tablet, setting it up to display myself kneeling by the bed, worshiping her lingerie scattered all over the sheets. This was the scenario when I answered her Skype call, in my t-shirt and boxers.

- My god! It's worse than I imagined. Aren't you ashamed? How can you degrade yourself to the point of flaunting your perversion that proudly? Shouldn't you disguise your boner, instead of exhibiting it in this shameless manner, knowing that I'm watching?

My hard cock, tenting inside the boxers, had now captured her full attention.

- What do you mean? That's exactly what I intended. I couldn't imagine a situation which would excite me more. I fantasized it thousands of times...

- ... and you masturbated to this fantasy every single time, I'm sure, she added.

- You bet! And these are always the best. Is there any other purpose?

- Wouldn't you rather have me there, in the flesh, lying on that bed instead of drooling over those empty bras and panties?

At this point I recognized a change in her former attitude of disgust. Somehow, she had been seduced by the situation or, at least, the curiosity to glimpse its outcome took the better of her reluctance.

- I guess not! My thing is with your panties, your bras and the vision of you inside them. I must worship you through them, tasting your flavor, inhaling your scent... nevertheless, aware of my boundaries: you are the forbidden fruit and, as such, out of my reach. You are taboo. Anyhow, there is no sexual activity which can provide this level of excitement and bliss. I wouldn't know what to do with you inside the same room while I'm doing my devotional routine. You intimidate me too much. I'm not prepared for a consensual thing because I never dared to imagine it possible.

- Maybe if I were there, coaching you, directing your acts or... just watching?

- You weren't meant to witness this unless you caught me in the act. Otherwise, I'll lose the mockery, the shame, the humiliation... and that's what the thrill is all about.

Taking advantage of her benevolent mood, I took my chance:

- Maybe you could call me on Skype. It would be nice for both if you feel comfortable with that...

- If you can't handle it facing me, I call it off. I won't grant you the fantasy.

- But... but...

- No way! It's kind of sick, huh? And now what? Are you planning on continuing this, now that I know what you're up to? Got the balls to do it?

- I will do it anyway, with or without you. And I got a new spur now that you know what I'm doing on the sly. From now on, whenever we meet you will question whether I have already done it or if I'm about to do it. Honor you, I mean... Well, how's it going to be? Will you play along?

- Very well! I'm convinced. Now I want to see how far you dare to go with this. I'm in, for now. What will happen next?

- The usual drill, I dared to say. I'll start by chewing your panties. I could use some humiliation while I do it. Will you humor me? Please, I beg you! It's the least you can do for me while I put on my show for you. I'll rub my cock in your bra, wrap it in the straps and play with it until I cum inside one of the cups. Is it okay with you? Of course, you don't have to wear it ever again. I'll be happy to replace it by the most expensive and exquisite you can find. Victoria's Secret... whatever you fancy. I will be happy if you'll allow me to keep your bra as a trophy. Give me the honor of using lingerie offered by me and you will have my devotion forever.

- And one more excuse to masturbate at my expense, she added mocking.

- In your honor, you should say. I need no further excuses to it. You already give me plenty, just by being there, gorgeous, tempting and unreachable.

- Are you sure you don't want to wait till I get there? I could make it in ten.

Now she was obviously excited about the prospect and definitely surrendered to it. At this point, she wouldn't miss it for the world.

- I guess, but... I won't be able to hold on until you arrive. Not now, after the urge you just gave me. My god! I'm so horny! Please don't push me or I'll cum right away. I can't hold on much longer. I'm losing myself, any minute now.

I was desperate. A dark stain spread through the fabric of my boxers, from the spot where my bare glans stretched it. The tension would be more than enough to produce an orgasm If only I pushed my hips and squeeze it a little more against the front seam. I was so close to ejaculate that I had to freeze, hoping for a short relief of my raging erection. Droplets of precum oozed through the tissue, forming a viscous and transparent wire, hanging halfway off the floor. I froze until she interrupted:

- It's ok! I can imagine the strain you're going through. Don't touch it, wanker! I know you want it badly, but don't. Just let yourself go. Give it a small squeeze and let it spurt. Make sure you zoom it before you cum... let me take a good look at your cock squirting through the fabric. Come on, old pervert! I want to watch you ruin your orgasm for me.

I was one hip squeeze away from ejaculation. I believed that pushing my dick once more against my boxers was all it'd take to come instantly. I thought about pulling it out and give it a good rub, but it'd be useless: no way I could get there and touch it without bursting. I was about to miss the golden opportunity of fulfilling my fantasy, displaying my hard penis and masturbating impudently in front of her. Desperately, I grabbed Susan's bra and placed it gently over the stretched tent in my shorts, for the final stroke. No further incentive was needed to cause the impending discharge: I blew my load instantly, releasing a grunt as I drenched my boxers in consecutive cum spurts. My sticky sperm, dripping down by the hanging straps of her bra, was the last image she received.

Barely recovered from my daze, I could hear Susan breathing heavily on the other side of the phone, for a while. And, despite having no image, I had a good hunch about what might be going on there.