Milfception Ch 04

The phone rang as I was getting out of the shower. The bathroom smelled strongly of sex just from it being washed off me. Wrapped in a towel from the waist down I walked into my mother's room to grab the cordless. Through the window I caught sight of Ms. Richards walking through her dining room, her own cordless held to her ear, and remembered I told her I would help move some things this afternoon. She was wearing a loose-fitting, pale blue dress, black pumps, and tan nylons. It was a safe assumption the nylons were thigh highs. The dress's hem was a little on the high side, the neckline a little low, and the light fabric clung to her petite body. It was probably bordering on scandalous for a bank teller to be wearing to work, but still acceptable. She sat against the edge of the table facing in my general direction, crossed her perfect legs, and dangled one of her pumps off her toe.

I clicked the phone on, and answered as though I didn't know who was calling. "Hello?"

"Johnny, hey."

"Hey, Ms. Richards. Still need some help?"

"Johnny, Linda, please." I watched in the window as she straightened a stray lock of her salt and pepper bob.

"Sorry. Linda." Even though this level of familiarity with her was something I had dreamed of in the real world, her first name still sounded weird in my mouth.

"It should be pretty quick, I just want to box up some of David's stuff and get it in the basement."

"Okay, I'm just back from the gym, but I'll get dressed and come right over." Her face turned abruptly to look directly at me in the window and I was half tempted to drop my towel and give her the same kind of show she had given me the night before but did not.

"No problem, Johnny. I'll leave the door open, just come up to David's room."

"See you soon, Linda." We both hung up, and I watched through the window for a moment as she walked away from me into the other room. I sighed heavy watching the suspender clips under the thin fabric of her dress. Even though all of the encounters the simulation had thrown at me were different, the outcome of going over there was clear, and there was a tinge of guilt about this one. It felt as if I was about to take advantage of my friend's mom. In my actual youth outside of the simulation, she had always effortlessly kept her distance, doubtlessly aware of my crush, and either actively or subconsciously avoided me because of it. Something about obliterating that unspoken boundary with her in the simulation seemed more wrong than the other situations, but I understood what the simulation was trying to do. It found a thing I felt bad about and was, "fixing," it. Just fixing it without the human understanding that treating others how they want to be treated feels better in the long run to most people than getting what they want regardless.

I cradled the phone handset, and repeated to myself the thing I'd been saying the entire time I had been stuck, "How many times have you jacked off thinking of her? This is no different. Right? She's not real, none of this is real. I'm the only one here." After getting dressed I walked next door, and before going in repeated to myself, "she's not real."

When I left the gym that afternoon my mind tried to race, but I kept the reigns on it. The simulation was changing the rules under me, and the lab seemed to be half panicked about it. I needed to get a full message from the lab to figure out how to get out of here, but every time one came in I was distracted part way through it. By my count I had been stuck for about 48 hours now. I wondered how I was eating out there. Did they put a feeding tube in me? A catheter? Maybe it was a situation where time passed faster in the simulation, and my two days had only been half an hour outside of my brain. I had to be honest with myself though. If I was really stuck in some perverted version of my memories of the 90's, and the lab could keep me alive still, if no harm was being done, would that be so bad?

At home I mulled about for a bit, looking for newspapers and magazines, hoping to catch a message from the lab in a calm moment. Nothing came up, and I eventually got in the shower, and now I was willingly putting myself on a path to potential distraction again all because I thought my neighbor was pretty 30 years ago.

I found her upstairs in her son's room, bent over at the waist putting magazines into a box on the floor. Pale, soft flesh was exposed between the top of her stockings and the hem of her skirt. "Hey, Linda," she jumped a little, stood up straight, and smoothed the front of her skirt down with a magazine still in her hand.

"Thanks for coming, Johnny." She gestured around the room, and said, "David took all of his clothes and things with him to school, but my sister is coming to stay for a while, and I wanted to make it comfortable as possible for her in here. Thought I would get rid of all the teenaged boy stuff." She held up the issue of Men's Workout in her hand to illustrate what she meant, opened it to a random page, and added under her breath, "She might appreciate this though." She pointed to a stack of folded boxes propped in a corner, and said, "I thought we could just fill these and see if that's enough."

"Sure. Anywhere I should start?"

"Well actually, yes." She blushed slightly, and eventually said, "I don't know if you would know, but if David had anything his mother maybe shouldn't see, I thought you could take care of that stuff first to save me the embarrassment?"

I chuckled. "Sure. Look away and I'll get that stuff out of here first."

She flashed me an embarrassed half smile, and said, "Thanks Johnny."

I got the shoebox of lingerie catalogs from under his bed and set them in the box she was filling. "All clear."

She looked down at them, and said, "Oh, I meant like weed or something. I knew about those. When I'm done ordering, I just let him have them."

"Oh, uh."

She stared right at me with her blue doe-like eyes. "I really have a weakness for delicates." I remembered vividly from my actual youth finding her thigh highs and fancy underwear on the top of the bathroom hamper, and in their laundry area in the basement. For the longest time after, I assumed most women her age wore matching three-piece sets all the time under their normal clothes just because I knew she did. At least the simulation was back to somewhat playing from reality.

She reached down and opened the lid of the shoebox and retrieved one of the catalogs. Flipping through it, she got a pleasant smile. She showed me a page of a red satin bra and panties set, "I loved this one, but they were out of it my size by the time I ordered."

After turning a couple more pages, she showed a photo of a pair of sheer black, full bottom panties. The catalog description read, "JOHN, we think we're making progress, and might try something drastic soon, but until we can you need to..."

"I have these on right now." Startled by the frankness of her admission I made eye contact with her giving up on reading the message I had so desperately needed just an hour ago. I guess I needed to hear about her underwear more than what I needed to do to get out of here. "They're a lot more sheer than that, but they have to airbrush the photos." Her fingers absently played where the model's pubic hair and labia should have been visible to show what she meant. I didn't curse or panic that I had missed the message like before, some part of me now was either willing, or resigned. A few more pages turned and she returned the catalog to the box. "Lets get started."

No part of me wanted to stand up just then, but I did, and my half erection would have been obvious if she was looking. Strangely for the simulation though, I didn't catch her looking at all. We went to work, packing up David's games and magazines, the whole while Linda bending over just enough to show her stocking tops and thinking nothing of it. A few times I craned my neck to attempt to catch a glimpse of the panties she had told me about but had no luck. Most of the things we were packing up were on a bookcase built on top of a short dresser, the entire width of one wall. We got the things on the lower shelves packed up and Linda said, "I'm going to climb up here to get the rest." She lifted one of her feet to remove her shoe, the hem of her dress continuing its mission to leave the tops of her stockings unconcealed.

"Are you sure? I think I can just reach those."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

After setting her shoes down on the dresser she tentatively stepped up on the surface of it, one stocking clad foot at a time. She handed down a stack of books and magazines, and I kneeled down to arrange them in the box.

"Johnny?" I looked up at her, she had lifted one foot up to the second shelf and spread her stance open for stability. Her panties were indeed more sheer than in the catalogue. "Are there any of these you want to borrow?"

Staring directly into her pussy under the see through black panties, my mouth went dry, but I hoarsely said, "uh, maybe." Her labia were completely shaven, but from my angle I could make out the strip of hair I knew she kept in the front from catching her naked in the window the night before. The panties were clearly damp, and clung to her pussy like wet tissue paper.

She rotated her hips slightly and looked back at me over her shoulder, catching me staring up her skirt. Her foot came back down to the surface of the dresser, and she turned to face me, smoothing the hem of her skirt in the front again. "Oh, I'm sorry Johnny. I didn't even think. That must be so embarrassing for you."

"What?"

"Seeing a grown woman's sexy underwear like that." She lifted the front of her skirt, looking down as if to check how exposed she was. Her perfectly manicured pubic hair was just feet from my face. "I just love knowing I'm dressed like a filthy whore under my clothes every day. It makes me feel so confident." Fingers trailed at the seam to the side of her pussy. Her smell grew unavoidable in the room. "I never really stop to think what happens if someone else actually sees my secret."

I wanted to dive face first into her crotch, but in that moment the subconscious guilt of taking advantage of my lonely neighbor, my best friend's mom, was winning, even if I knew it wasn't real. "Ms. Richards, I..."

She cut me off. "It's okay. It's nice having someone appreciate my effort." Her eyes darted to my crotch when she said, "appreciate." Her fingers played at a garter on the front of her thighs, trailing it under her panties all the way to the belt. "These aren't a set, but I like them together. I like how the straps frame my pussy, and that you can see it through the panties." She tugged at the front waistband of her underwear, "and they sit nicely below the garter belt."

I had the thought that the simulation may be aware of my reluctance.

Sitting on the dresser in front of me, her fingers moved to stroking softly at her labia through the fabric. "Sometimes when I wear panties like these, I wonder why I even bother with underwear, but I just love the way the fabric feels." The damp patch at her crotch was clearly growing. "And there is something so slutty about wearing something so impractical." Her fingers started to push between her labia. "Don't get me wrong, I go without all the time too. They get so dirty so fast, most days I have to take them off part way through my day. Typically by the afternoon, my panties are in my desk, soaked."

The comically large erection the simulation had given me was straining against my jeans so badly it hurt. She spread her legs further and absently put a nylon clad foot against the inside of my knee.

"Are you still embarrassed, Johnny? To see my underwear?"

"Uh, no, feeling way different than embarrassed right now."

Her foot started to trail up the inside of my thigh, "Are you sure? You look like you're maybe a little uncomfortable." Her toe brushed the head of my cock through my pants, and I nearly shot my load right then.

"Uh," my breath trailed off.

She traced the outline of my erection through my jeans, and said, "I really don't think these pants were made to fit something this big." The ball of her foot passed over the head, toes gently trailing off it. "You should loosen them a little."

In silent reply I started working my belt open while she watched rapt in attention. As I undid my fly her hand slipped down the front of her panties, middle finger sliding across her clit. My dick throbbed free, and she breathlessly said, "oh, Johnny." She masturbated a little faster, and her feet flanked my cock, pressing her arches into my pubic bone. "Is that more comfortable?"

I stared at her red glossed toenails wiggling in nylon, burrowing into my pubic hair. "Yeah, a lot better."

"I'm sorry that my whore panties made you so uncomfortable." One of her feet lifted, and she slid the ball up the underside of my shaft, stopping when her toes gently rubbed at the underside of the head. "This is all my fault." Nylon stroked at the underside of my cock. "I should really do something to help with it." I looked up into her pale blue eyes. "It's the least I could do, Johnny. As a good neighbor. Can I make this up to you?"

I swallowed hard. "yeah, Linda. You can do that."

She rubbed the sole of her foot into the sensitive underside of my dick for another minute or two, then shifted to stroking the whole length between her arches. I had never been crazy about feet, but the few times I had been with women who wanted to do this didn't say no and did enjoy it. Even though it was nothing I would have asked her for, it felt great, especially with the nylons. And on some level, letting her call the shots completely was tricking my self guilt-trip into calming the fuck down.

While she stoked my cock with her feet, she kept playing with her pussy, one hand in her panties rubbing her clit, and the other teasing her labia through them. She kept at it until I was starting to get close, then said, "You know Johnny, these panties feel so good against my pussy, I bet they would feel great on your cock." She stood up, and slipped her underwear down her thighs. Holding them by the waistband, she brushed them over my cock, teasing my engorged hardon with the damp, light fabric. She dropped them so they hung off my dick like a jacket on a doorknob, and ran her toes along the underside of the head again. "What do you think? Want me to jack you off with my $50 panties or keep going with my feet?"

Slack jawed, I managed to say, "You can do whatever you want, Linda."

She got on her knees between my legs, and adjusted the panties so the soaked crotch was on the very tip. Grinning, she said, "They don't even cover it," and then wrapped both hands around it, neither able to close. The delicate fabric felt incredible on my cock, and the cooling wetness made every touch more and more sensitive. She stroked in a slow rhythm until I was closing back on the edge. A bead of precum started to soak through the crotch of the panties. "Look at that," she cooed, firmly stroking more of it out while bringing her face closer. She squeezed tight at the base, and I could feel her breath on my cock. Ever so slowly her face got closer to the drop of cum until her mouth was less than an inch away. Staring into my eyes, her lips parted, and her tongue snaked out to lick the cum off her soaked panties.

She started stroking again, slow and firm until more precum leaked through. Her tongue licked at it, but this time her lips closed around my head, sucking our mixed fluids out of her panties. "Mmhhh." I could feel the vibration of her groan in every inch of my cock. "Sometimes," she said as she went back to slow strokes, "when I leave my panties in my desk, I hope somebody finds them." She took a moment to suck more precum out. "I think about what I would do if some guy took them and jacked off in them." Her lips locked around my head while she stroked, greedily sucking at the dirty panties. "And just put them back in my desk, full of cum, and soaked from my pussy. If I went to get them at the end of the day and found them that way, I don't know what I would do." Her mouth dropped to my scrotum, interrupting herself by licking at my testicles while she stroked. With one eye making contact around my underwear wrapped cock, she said, "I might just put them back on, rub all that semen into my pussy, and go about my day with a pair of cum soaked panties." She sucked one testicle into her mouth while she kept stroking. Her tongue trailed back up my cock, and she said, "but I know I would probably just stuff them in my mouth." She stopped to kiss the underside of my head, "drive the whole way home with cum soaked panties in my mouth." She sucked at my head again, and added, "maybe even stop at the store, and hope nobody tries to talk to me. Or what if I got pulled over for speeding?" The pace of her stroke picked up, "Some days, I do that anyway. Just drive home with my own dirty panties stuffed my mouth. But I know it would be so much better if they were full of cum too." She tried and failed to suck both my testicles in her mouth. "Would you cum in my dirty, slutty panties if you found them, Johnny? I always left them out in the bathroom when you would come visit and checked them when you left. Sometimes I thought maybe you had, but every time I tasted them to check, they only tasted like me. You would go home, and I would sit on the floor by the hamper, licking the crotch of every pair of my dirty panties clean, hoping your cum would be in them. Did you ever jack off in my panties, Johnny? Did you ever cum for me?"

I stammered around a non-reply as she peeled the wet underwear off my cock. She turned the inside of the crotch to her mouth and licked at the stain there. She breathed deep after, savoring it. "Your cum makes them taste so much better than usual." She pressed the panties into her tongue and slowly stuffed most of them into her mouth. Her hand guided my cock back into her already full mouth. Her hands and mouth worked together bringing me right back to the edge. Drool and precum dripped from the fabric at the corners of her mouth.

When I left the gym a couple hours ago, I had really though there wasn't a drop of cum left in me, but as my orgasm started rolling over me she choked on the first shot, and pulled back. Smiling around the panties in her mouth she stroked my cock, painting her face in shot after shot of thick, white cum. When my orgasm finished, she giggled and pulled the panties out of her mouth, immediately wiping them across her face. "You must not have cum in a week." She was trying to clean her face up with her soaked panties but was just smearing more of it around. "That was so much cum. Thank you." She sat back on the dresser, and lifted her skirt back up. Without saying more, she rubbed the cum covered panties across her pussy, then slowly started forcing them into her opening with one finger, groaning as she did. When they were about halfway in she rubbed ferociously at her clit, stopping after a moment to push them further up her vagina. Her teeth ground, and her face contorted. She mashed her fingers into her clit with so much pressure they lightened from the blood being forced out of them. Her breath turned to a squeal, and her stuffed pussy clenched at the panties as if it was attempting to wring them out.

As her breath leveled out and she stuffed the panties the rest of the way into her pussy before lowering her skirt. There was still errant cum smeared all over her face, but she seemed oblivious to it.

"Feeling better? Should we get back to it?"

I was completely stunned from her performance, but it hadn't exactly encouraged my erection to go down. "Uh," I glanced down at it.

"Oh." She reached out and took the engorged head of my cock in her palm, gently rubbing a finger on the underside. "I guess I haven't taken care of this yet? What do you need, Johnny?"