1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    &#034Everybody's gone somewhere off campus to eat dinner. Nobody is going to walk up to you, lift the skirts of your jacket, and look at your pants.&#034 She smiled. &#034Or you could wear the skirt, if you want. You really *do* look adorable in it. Where are your shoes?&#034 I exploded, at that. &#034Damn it, I am *not* wearing heels across campus! You *took* my shoes. Give me my damn shoes, *and* my pants!&#034 She lost her smile. &#034I didn't take... did I?&#034 I was too angry to respond. &#034Lee, if I took your shoes, they must be down in the car. I'm sorry about that. I forgot. If you're not going to wear the heels, though, you should take off your stockings, too. You've already half- ruined them walking around on these filthy floors.&#034 Now I glared, and ground my teeth in anger and frustration. She returned a level gaze, and finally spoke again. &#034Lee, the campus is quiet now, but if you stay here forever, sooner or later someone is going to come. If you insist on it, I'll go down to the car and get your pants, and your shoes if they're there. But I know you've wanted to do something a little risky, and now's your chance. Think of it as an adventure, and trust me to keep you safe walking to the parking lot. Which is not 'across campus.' If you want, I can give you my bra, and we can find tissue to stuff it, and I'll fix your hair, and you can try the whole thing. But I think you'd be more comfortable just getting your feet wet. Well?&#034 I released the anger ...
    in another enormous breath. Thought about it. &#034How do you talk me into these things?&#034 I asked, a bit sullenly. &#034Not a skirt, though.&#034 She waited until I was zipping the pants, and answered, &#034Easy. I let you do the talking.&#034 As a matter of fact, I got off on it like a rocket. With Nancy's hand around my waist, it wasn't as fearful as I had expected, and I got a weird exultation out of sauntering, in high heels and everything else, our hips bumping together as we walked. And conquered another fear. And we had pizza, too. First the pizza, then the spanking, then the outstanding, mind-numbing sex. When we finally collapsed together, into a perfumed, sweaty, satiated heap, she mumured, &#034If that's what you're like after wearing heels in public, I can't *wait* until I take you somewhere in a dress.&#034 Instead of reacting with fear and shame, I found the idea intriguing. It was a memorable day. There was only one blot on it. As we were walking toward the parking lot, high heels tapping in unison, there'd been a football player, or an athlete of some sort, at any rate, off in the distance. Nancy nudged me with her hip, nodded his direction, and commented, &#034Look at *that!* What a monster!&#034 But in an admiring tone of voice. The Pessimist gave an &#034Aha!&#034 and I was a little quiet on the way home, until we stopped at the carry-out pizza place. Shortly after that, we went shopping again. A week, or two weeks later, perhaps. At Nancy's, there were ...
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