Was I back at Jasmine's place for dinner on Sunday? You bet I was. Didn't think twice about missing the ball game. The Mets suck this year anyway.
It became a regular thing for me to get "Jazzed" on Sunday. At first, it was pretty much the same routine - a plate of her magical mystery hair pie at the dinner table followed by the real thing in the bedroom. It was the same thing, but a little better every time.
Jaz said it was because our bond was growing. That was sure true. The more I pressed my lips and tongue to her pussy, the more I could feel it in my own mouth as we literally came together thanks to the magic of her voodoo pie.
But it was more than that. It was also the cuddling and kissing afterwards, the holding and stroking, and even the pillow talk. That girl was a kick. I mean, she was a real motor-mouth who could talk forever about anything. She was so excited about just about everything that she was exciting. Mostly I was just along for the ride on a train that was moving way too fast for me to hop off. When she did let me talk, somehow I just wanted to tell her everything and the only reason I didn't was because I liked hearing her talk even more. Yeah, she was a kick.
Anyway, one Sunday she was on the bed with her legs spread and I was moving in for dessert when she stopped me. "Let's try something a little different today, cherie. Vive la diffΓ©rence, no? You just lie still a bit - and watch."
OK, I can do that. The view was pretty good from where I was so I didn't mind. Yeah, I watched as her hand slipped down to her crotch and her two middle fingers began stroking her pussy. What I didn't expect, and will never forget, was how my own lips started buzzing with every stroke. Automatically they stretched into the vertical pucker to become as pussy-shaped as possible.
Her fingers were moving faster now, dancing over her lips and mine. My breathing started to get heavy, puffing through my puckered lips like the little engine that could. I had to close my eyes, not because I didn't want to see anymore, but to concentrate on feeling her magic fingers. My lips were getting wet now, but I couldn't tell if it was my saliva or if it was her wetness gushing through our voodoo bond.
Not sure when, but I noticed that my tongue had extended itself to touch my upper lip as she began working her clit. Sure enough, my clitongue started sending little bursts of she-pleasure deep into my mouth. Then came a string of high-pitched girly gasps. Were they coming from her or me? It didn't matter cause I didn't have a mouth anymore. It was all hers.
And then it was ours. Ourgasm. Her and me exploding into each other. And there was no doubt now as my head snapped back as far as it could and I screamed More More More even though I couldn't say a fucking word. I guess I just screamed.
Then she let go. Even though I know she could have gone on and on, she took her hand away and let me fall back into myself. I could feel that I had drooled all over my face and had oozed a sticky mess into my underwear. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't say a word, but just look up at her magnificent, magical pussy with her smiling face shining above it all. How could I have ever thought that wasn't the most beautiful sight in the world? What a dope I had been.
Then she brought her legs together, as if to say show's over. Not sure why, but I shifted my head a bit and planted a big kiss on her foot. All I wanted to do was to tell her how much I loved her and how happy she had made me and how grateful I was. That foot kiss seemed like the best way to say it, altogether just like that. It must have worked, because I could feel the sole of her other foot on my cheek, stroking out "I know, baby, I know."
With a soft push, she rolled me over on my back. "Look at you, coming everywhere. What a hot little slut I have. Still, mustn't let baby catch cold. Take off those wet things and put on these." Dangling from her uplifted big toe was the pair of red panties that she had just been wearing.
"Aw Jaz, I can't wear those! They - they wouldn't fit."
"They'll fit you just fine, darling. And if they are a bit snug in places, that's OK. It will just remind you of me. You like to think about me, don't you cherie?"
"All the time - you know that Jaz. It's just, well, what if someone at work sees?"
"I guess you'll just have to keep your pants on. You can do that for me, can't you sweetie? And it's not just something to remember me by. The more contact you have with my pussy, the stronger our bond becomes. My panties on your cock, day after day, will take the magic to the next level."
Seeing I was still unsure, Jaz leaned in, grabbed my face and pinched my cheeks together with her left hand. "Make pussy face for me, baby." Then raising her other hand, she began running her two middle fingers across my lips. I could smell and taste where they had been as my eyes rolled back in my head and my tongue stretched out for more. "You know you want it, cherie. You want to be my little pussy."
I didn't have to say anything and couldn't anyway. Just smell and breath and tingle. She diddled me for a little longer, then tiring of the game she sent me home with a kiss and a bag of her dirty laundry.
***
And so I became my girlfriend's panty boy. Each morning I dutifully put on a new pair of her old panties. Not sure there was any magic in them, but they definitely kept her on my mind. No matter how long I wore them, it seemed like I could never get used to them. Every time I moved, and sometimes even when I didn't, I could feel them rubbing up against me, like a cat scent marking its territory. Or its prey.
So why didn't I just be a man and stop wearing them? Because in the middle of all the weird rubbing and annoying clinging, the tingling would come back, all over my body. It was like I was back in bed with Jaz and she was holding me, everywhere. Sometimes I would have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop from going into "pussy face." Was I just making myself crazy? Or was she doing this to me?
I got my answer on the Friday of the first week of this little panty raid. Curt was telling a good story about how he had gotten some bimbo so drunk last weekend that he was able to have his way with her about any which way he wanted, a scene that he painted for us in great detail. But the best part was, the bitch didn't even seem to remember and actually called him to see what he was doing this Saturday!