Nothing To Declare

Peter released the harness he had been wearing for the past half hour and stretched his long legs out in front of him. The flight had been relaxing, uneventful and, although he had enjoyed the business trip to New York immensely, he was glad to be home. He was, however, in no hurry to depart, letting most of those sitting behind him on the aircraft move past before venturing into the aisle and removing his hand luggage from the rack above his head.

International flights always relaxed him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had been flying since he was a small boy and loved the sensation of being above everything and everyone. He had a feeling though it was the ritual he had allowed himself for any flight over an hour in length. Travelling alone he had discovered living one of his more deeply needed fantasies was a possibility. He could indulge and no one was any the wiser. Just the feelings, the sensations, the knowledge of what he was doing, could keep him hard for an entire journey and the release once he arrived home was always the best part of the whole trip.

The queue of passengers waiting to go through the 'Nothing to Declare' section of customs moved fairly quickly and he made his way towards the group of smartly uniformed men and women with a smile on his face.

"Would you just step over here, Sir, please?"

"What? I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The voice had startled him; there were still three people in front of him and he hadn't thought it would be his turn for a few more minutes.

"I said, 'would you just step over here, Sir, please'." The voice belonged to a pleasant looking woman of about thirty to thirty-five. Her name badge said 'T. Barker' and, nodding his head, Peter moved towards her trying to ignore the fact that a sexy woman in, to him, an equally sexy uniform was speaking to him.

"Do you have anything to declare, Sir?"

"No, no, nothing." Suddenly, he had no idea why, Peter could feel his heart pumping in his chest.

"Was your visit to the big apple for business or pleasure, Sir?"

"Oh, business, I travel there three or four times a year."

"I see, and what type of business are you in, Sir?"

"Pharmaceuticals; I'm a medical rep, but I sell services rather than actual medication."

"Ok. Would you please open your first suitcase, Sir?"

"I told you I have nothing to declare, Ms Barker. Nobody else is being stopped in this way."

Peter realized instantly that appearing flustered or annoyed wasn't a smart move. Ms Barker's face clouded over and her tone changed from pleasantly authoritative to no nonsense.

"I realize that, Sir, but you have been, and my request is perfectly understandable in today's climate."

Nodding his head Peter began to search his pockets for the keys. Unable to find them immediately he laid his wallet and passport on the counter before pulling out two hankies, his car keys and cell phone.

"I can't find the key for my luggage." An embarrassed flush suffused his face and Peter felt himself begin to sweat.

"I see. In that case, Sir, I will have to ask you to follow me. We will find a suitable key or other implement to enable us to check your belongings."

Nodding his head Peter moved his hand to pick up the various items from the counter.

"I'll take care of them for you, Sir. Newspapers are provided for your convenience. I won't be long."

The small waiting room was both door and windowless. Peter could see the buzzing activity of the airport as he sat, confused and embarrassed and knew he was equally visible. The newspaper was the same one he had read on the plane and so he took a pen from his jacket pocket and began to work, once again, on the cryptic crossword. The answer to one clue which had eluded him, 'Age old rituals or travel official' suddenly became clear and he filled it in with a grimace. He had only completed half of the puzzle during the flight but by the time Ms Barker returned he had not only finished it but also worked through the Sudoku and ordinary puzzles too.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Sir, but your suitcases appear to be quite old. I'm afraid we had to break the locks."

He said nothing, not sure what the legalities of the situation were. Instead he looked into the young woman's deep brown eyes and waited for her to continue.

"I need you to come with me, Sir. There are some more formalities to complete before we can let you continue your journey."

"Can ... Can I at least call my office, let them know I'll be late?"

"Not at the moment, Sir; maybe in a while."

Ms Barker was walking towards the exit as she spoke. Waiting there and looking at him Peter realized he was expected to precede her.

"If you will turn right you will find a room with a bed and a chair. I wish you to enter, remove your shirt, trousers and underwear and then put on the robe. I will wait at the door, but I'm afraid privacy is out of the question."

Peter thought his heart would stop. She wanted him to strip off? She would stand and watch? Good God, whatever was he to do now?

"I ... I don't understand. What is it I'm supposed to have done? If it involves paying a fine I'll do that. Why ... why do you want me to take my clothes off?"

The slight blush he had suffered earlier was nothing to how Peter felt now. Blood pounded in his ears and his palms were suddenly clammy. A secret he had kept for over ten years was about to be revealed in the most embarrassing of circumstances and he wasn't at all certain he could go through with it.

"No, Sir, there is no fine, at least not yet. I just need you to comply with my instructions."

The woman stood in the doorway and Peter nodded. He put his suit jacket over the back of the chair and then loosened his tie. Slipping it off he placed it on the seat and then began undoing his shirt. That too he put on the chair but then, unable to continue, he turned to his companion.

"Please, Miss, I ... I can't."

"You have a problem, Mr Millar? I do have male colleagues who can come and take over if you would prefer."

"No!" Realizing he had raised his voice Peter swallowed hard and then continued. "No, no, it's just ... I ..."

He had no idea how to explain and sat heavily on the bed looking all the time at the customs official and hoping she would take pity on him.

Moving closer to him the younger woman smiled for a moment.

"Trust me, Sir; I have done this many times before. Nothing you have beneath your suit trousers will surprise me. I need to tell you, though, if I am in here more than five minutes with the door closed someone will come and join us and somehow I get the feeling privacy is a big thing with you."

He nodded, unable to form words properly.

"O ... Ok, I'll do it, but please, don't let anyone else in."

For a moment Ms Barker seemed to disregard what he had said but then with a nod of her head she moved towards the door.

"I won't be one minute."

Peter sat where he was, unable to move a muscle, and waited. It seemed like forever that he was alone but then, suddenly she was back and, shutting the door first, moved towards him.

"Now, no one will come in; I have a panic alarm with me. I don't think I'm going to need it, but you never know." The small device was held in her hand and Peter, knowing how much noise the things made, hoped she wouldn't decide to use it.

His trembling fingers went towards his belt and he began to undo it. His breathing was ragged and for a second he paused and closed his eyes.

"What is your first name, Mr. Millar?"

"P ... Peter, why?"

"Well, Peter, like I said, nothing will surprise me, I'm not going to laugh, or even get any closer than I am now, not until you are naked at least."

His fingers began to move again and slowly the belt and then the button and zip were undone. Getting to his feet Peter took one more deep breath and then let his trousers fall around his ankles.

"Oh, my." The words were uttered softly and he looked at the woman standing before him.

"Now you know why I didn't want to do what you told me."

"But they look so good. Do ... do you wear them always?"

"I beg your pardon?" He wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, how unprofessional. It's just ... no, sorry. You need to remove them, Mr. Millar, so I can make sure nothing is being hidden by you."

For a moment he didn't understand but then the full horror of his situation hit him. Peter shuddered, until, looking at the young woman again, he felt himself become a little bolder.

"Maybe you would like to do that for me, Ms Barker? You seem to like them." Reaching out he grasped her hand and placed it on his hip. Her fingers were far enough away from danger that he couldn't be accused of anything too serious but still against the soft silky material of the lacy black panties he was wearing attached to the softer grey stockings by an equally lacy suspender belt.

"Ohhh, God. I ... I can't." For a moment an awkward silence fell. Peter knew it wasn't because he had insulted her, but because she was trying to persuade herself that she could and would do what he had asked. Finally after a few minutes he saw her make a decision.

"I want to, but not here, Peter, please. Get dressed and meet me later, would you do that?"

He knew he was behaving like a complete jerk. Again she had made him speechless, but this time the amazement was also exciting him and he felt his cock start to harden against the silky material.

"I can't do what I think we would both like here. I'd lose my job, but it would start something like this." Without another word the young woman got on her knees and placed a gentle kiss against the fabric which contained his now aching penis.

"Ohhhh, God." He couldn't stop the words escaping and when she then placed her fingers around him, trapping the material against his burgeoning erection he thought his legs would give way.

"My name is Tracy; let me give you my address. You can go to work, I finish my shift at 5.00; I'll meet you there." Her soft fingers traced his stockings as she helped him pull up his trousers. Once he was fully dressed again she gave him a piece of paper with the road and house number on it. He recognized the area and smiled.

"I'll be right on time."

"I can slip into something more comfortable and who knows how the evening will progress."

"No, please, keep your uniform on; you look so ... so hot in it."

His words obviously pleased her but she said nothing. Her hands though smoothed down the skirt and Peter was sure he saw the outline of a suspender belt through the tight material.

"I'll get your things. There will be no charges or recommendations; well apart from you keeping your sexy clothes for tonight."

"Oh don't worry, I'll do that." Now his heart was beating hard for another reason and he wondered whether he would get any work done before the excitement overwhelmed him. By the time Tracy had returned with his luggage he had decided to call in saying he was suffering from jet lag and go home. He could fantasize until he shot a huge load over his own lacy panties and still get hard for Tracy again later.

His plan made him smile as his temptress entered the room. She pointed behind her and he could see the two bags on a luggage trolley ready to go. With her foot she pushed the door to behind her and then smiled back at him.

"I thought you might like to have a little aperitif." Her hands moved out of sight and then her skirt fell. The black seamed stockings attached to the sexiest laciest suspenders over an equally sexy pair of lacy panties almost made him shoot his load. She ran her finger across the gusset and then under his nose. Her arousal was obvious. In almost a single movement the skirt was back up and her hands were behind his head as she pulled him down towards her. Their lips touched and he felt her tongue wet across his skin. Moaning he let her enter and, as he ground his hard cock against her, lost himself in the erotic kiss they shared.

"I'll see you at about 5.30. Don't be late." Her voice was as husky as he knew his would be and then, without another word, Tracy turned, opened the door, and was gone.

***

Peter wasn't sure how he got through the rest of the day. Every five minutes, it seemed, he was looking at the clock or thinking about looking at it. He had stopped off at a department store on his way home and, after wandering around the lingerie department for over an hour, purchased a beautiful, to him at least, lacy set of underwear for his new lover. White with a delicate lacy pattern throughout the bra was under wired and just see-through enough for him to know the outline of Tracy's nipples would be visible. The panties matched and had softly undulating frills as well as the lace for him to run his fingers over.

For himself he had bought a pair of pink French knickers. Sheer, they showed his tight arse and hard cock off and he felt deliciously slutty as he tried them on in the privacy of his own room. His eight inches was throbbing as he ran his fingers up and down it, feeling the nylon as it caressed and enveloped him.

With a moan of Tracy's name he lay back on the bed, removing the underwear only because he wanted to model it for her. Leaning over he placed them where he could see them and then ran his hand over the hot skin which stretched tight across the bulbous head of his cock. An image of Tracy wearing the bra and panties he had bought arose in his mind; he could see her fingers as they traced the dark shape of her nipples through the material and teased her pussy lips.

His hand moved quicker as he imagined the feel of her mouth against his cock and her hand as it danced on him. As the thought of her lacy panties being rubbed over his cock entered his mind he stiffened, moaned loudly, and felt himself begin to cum.

"Ohhh, Tracy, Tracy, fuck, cumming ... Ohhh ..... Ohhh, yes, yes. YES!" The world stopped turning for a while, Peter lay back, his chest heaving, his heart beating so fast he feared it would give out on him. He scooped the cum up in the panties he had worn on the flight and once again felt a stirring, a familiar excitement, which, he knew, was all because of the sexy panty loving woman he had met that day.

***

The taxi ride had been pleasant; Tracy had an apartment overlooking the harbour and Peter enjoyed the journey watching the scenery change from the suburban streets where he lived, through the built up and busy commercial district and out into the prosperous areas closer to the coast. Finally he entered a slightly more bohemian neighbourhood, the car was stopping, and he was looking at a small, two storey building with neatly manicured lawns and clean white paintwork.

The entryway had only four named doorbells and he pressed the one which was for flat 3. The soft voice he remembered said his name and as soon as he replied he heard the buzzer granting him entry. He stopped just inside the door to make sure everything was as it should be, knowing that his final preparations, to him, meant everything.

The stairs were white as was the whole of the lobby. Refraining from leaping up them two at a time Peter tried to stroll leisurely but knew he had failed when he heard a laugh as he turned the corner on the first floor and saw Tracy, still in her uniform, standing there.

"30 seconds, not bad for a first time!"

Feeling himself blush Peter nodded and smiled.

"Well, I had good reason to make sure I didn't take too long, never keep a lady waiting my old man used to say."

Tracy didn't reply but ushered him into her home and he stopped for a second, just inside the doorway, wanting to catch his breath and refrain from making any other stupid remarks.

The flat was identical to the rest of the building in that it was pure white but it was also so unique and so vocal in describing Tracy's personality that, for a moment, he was unable to take it all in.

Framed pictures of the ocean nestled alongside those of busy city scenes, there were a few well placed souvenirs on individual shelves but what caught his eye the most was the amount of books he could see. One entire wall of the living area he stood in was covered in books. Large, small, paperback, hardback, adult and children's books all jostled for position and spoke of an eclectic taste in reading matter.

The flat was also spotlessly tidy, the bleached wood floors were clear, no mats or rugs adorned them and the cream leather suite was pristine, sporting just two coffee coloured cushions and a throw of a similar colour over the back of it. The two recliner chairs, which completed the suite, were situated either side of wide French doors leading onto a balcony. The view was of a small private harbour and Peter could see ten or so boats as well as hear the sound of sea gulls and he moved closer to soak up the atmosphere.

"So, Mr. Millar, what do you think?"

"Oh, sorry, I think it's beautiful. You must love living here."

He had obviously said the right thing; Tracy smiled as widely and enthusiastically as he had seen her do. She nodded vigorously before speaking again and he heard the excitement in her voice as she did so.

"How could I not? I don't ever want to have to leave. It's just perfect for a Cancerian like me; a home and water lover; just perfect."

He turned and moved over to her in two strides and took her into his arms. Her enthusiasm made his heart sing and he began to kiss her, feeling her respond as he did so. Her body rested against him; she was so much shorter than he but somehow they seemed to fit together as if they were from the same mould. He ran his fingers into her short brown hair, luxuriating in its softness and felt her hands as they moved against the muscles of his back. The kiss took over his very being, time had no meaning and, as they moved against each other, he felt her tongue touch his. The warmth of her breath and the beating of her heart told him, whatever happened; he was forever lost in her.

"Come and sit for a while. Would you like a cold drink? I have wine, beer or soda."

"Actually water would be good." The sun was warm through the glass of the French doors and he longed to loosen the tie he was wearing.

"Coming right up."

He realized, as Tracy walked away from him, that although she was still in her uniform the shoes were different. The regulation flatties had been replaced by a pair of high black leather pumps. The height of them emphasized the shapeliness of her calves and again Peter felt his cock stir against the nylon of his panties.

He remained motionless; the seat he had chosen gave him an uninterrupted view of the kitchen. He watched his hostess as she reached up high for the glasses, walked across the kitchen, took ice from the freezer, smiled at him, poured in the water, and then rose to his feet as she came back towards him.

"You know, I think I prefer the view from here."

"Thank you, you charming man, you." Tracy smiled as she spoke and he inclined his head as he took his drink from her. He placed it carefully on a mat resting on a clear glass table and then waited for her to sit before doing the same.

The room descended into silence and for a moment Peter struggled with what to say. Suddenly though he knew what to do and shyly handed her the gift he had bought her.

"If you don't like them I have the receipt."

"Oh, thank you." Tracy leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before carefully removing the paper he had wrapped the present in and then exclaiming with delight.

"Oh, Peter, they're beautiful, thank you so much." She leant forward, her lips capturing his and they were kissing passionately. He felt her hands run across his arse cheeks, his pants moving against the silky lingerie he was wearing and he returned the favour his fingers skimming over the outline of suspenders and feeling the pattern of lace beneath.