Panty Paid (erotica excerpt)
Michelle strolled down the block with laser focus. Oblivious to daily life in the suburban neighborhood around her. Engrossed in her own little world as she power-marched straight ahead. Finish line in her sights. Par for the course. But then, a strange, prickly feeling invaded her space. It was as if someone had crept up on her heels and pinched her on the butt. She was being watched! Michelle tuned up her ears and turned down the decibel of her heartbeat. Sure enough, she could hear a second pair of footsteps on her trail.
Michelle looked behind her …
The tailer quickly looked down into his phone. Dead giveaway, if you asked Michelle. The young man appeared harmless enough, but one could never be too careful these days. She started into a high-knee jog, then dashed across the street. Though she could no longer sense the stranger in her peripheral, she bent a right at the corner and sprinted the remainder of the route. Fuck that.
Home sweet home. Michelle closed and locked the door behind her. If anything, that last minute sprint allowed her to work up a good sweat. The perspiration formed goose bumps as she pranced through the cool confines of her air-conditioned pad. Along the way, she stripped out of her gym clothes, which were downright drenched in spots.
“Damn, Chelle,” she groveled while slinging her damp sports bra over the rail en route to the second level. “You smelling like a terrorist up in here.” Detaching from the rest of her gear would require a tad more effort.
The visible panty lines traced her fleshly curves and cracks in an almost naughty way. Michelle had to peel through two layers of wedgie as both her yoga pants and the underwear beneath were sandwiched between her butt cheeks. She laughed while thinking of the eyeful she gave the creeper guy. He must’ve gotten some good footage.
“Dang it,” Michelle snapped after struggling to untangle the panties free of the yoga pants they were seemingly married to. That was the downside to having a plump round ass all the boys loved. Michelle was the constant victim of HAS, aka Hungry Ass Syndrome. No matter what style of panties she wore. No matter how many adjustments she made. Panties wound up riding to high hell in her ass. Even the full-coverage knickers fit like a pair of thongs in a matter of movements. It reached a point where she usually didn’t even bother to fix them. Fuck it.
Working in the sex business helped Michelle develop a hustler’s mentality. She came to view the slightest nuances of her femininity as money-making opportunities. It was time to make that ass-itching annoyance of a curse pay off.
“Boom! Run tell dat, bitches.”
Thirty minutes later, Michelle’s status was “relaxing”. She soaked her tense body in warm water and sparkly bubbles. A glass of red wine held high in one hand, huge clunky smartphone in the other, reveling in the apparent success of her latest advertisement. She’d recently added used panties to the list of goodies kinksters could purchase from her web store. And she noticed a trend. The more “worn” they were, the more traction they received. So when she offered the following description:
Ass-cented 4 you. Not my favorite, but these panties are cute. Soft cotton. They give me crazy wedgies. LOL. Wore them on my daily jog so they had quite the journey today. If you love my ass and want to enjoy their essence up close and personal, this is your lucky day. Tee hee! Let the bidding begin!!!
The pervs with money to burn flocked like flies to shit. Michelle couldn’t resist. She doubled back to the website to gauge the response and sure enough, her panty plot was a hit. The twenty dollar starting bid had already blossomed to a cool three hundred. Michelle set her phone down on the edge of the tub, took another sip, and smiled.
Life as a recently divorced middle-aged woman was quite the adventure, chock full of challenges and uncertainty. But having secured custody of her daughter, a burgeoning business, and an exciting new lease on sexuality, Michelle was bursting with optimism about the next chapter …
Explore more in The Fetish Dictionary: Kinks G thru W!
Contel Bradford is a mystical and complex individual. You can attempt to unravel some of the mystery by visiting his author site at countkrewpublications.com.
