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7. Defining Expectations

6. Looking good

5. The next phase

4. Jon makes a woman out of himse

3. Home alone 2

2. Jon's (perverted) fantasies

1. You Are What You Wish

Mandatory Milf: Defining Expectations

avatar on 2020-09-10 20:56:24
Episode last modified by Perri on 2020-09-10 22:38:58

5003 hits, 281 views, 8 upvotes.

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Jon bit his bottom lip, and pressed his knees tightly together. A profound emptiness, both expected and surprising greeted him. He knew what he'd done to himself. It was all part of the fantasy, but the conspicuous absence still startled him. His body still expected a hard cock sticking out between his legs. Hell, he'd tented denim for far less stimulation, but despite the hot longing pulsing between his legs the pencil skirt remained smooth. He rasped out a short frisky sound, somewhere between a yelp and a moan, then bit his bottom lip as a flush tingle ran through his body. He had intended to act out his fantasy a little longer, to milk the experience for all it's worth, before he explored his body too intimately, but even his strongest resolve crumbled at the sound of his lusty voice.

His hands, he realized, were still under his control, and a moment later, his left hand drifted to his breasts, while his right middle and ring fingers traced down his body, towards his ...

His skirt clenched tight, forcing his legs together, and his sweater snatched his hands effortlessly from his body, holding his shoulders back, and arms bent delicately at the elbow. His previous struggle with the clothes was confused, and weak, but this time he really did fight the sweater. He could feel his body wiggle beneath the cloth, but the soft cotton may as well be an iron jacket. His struggles were effortlessly disguised as simple shifts in weight, with every move as smooth and sultry as before. His head, and hands betrayed his frustration. He tossed his head back and let a loose cougar yowl, His hands flexed and stretched spasmodically at the sleeves, desperate for that sensual touch he teased himself with moments before.

"Stupid clothes," he panted. "God Dammi----YEEEOOW!"

The curse was choked out of his throat as the clothing decided it had enough of his unlady like behavior, and his panties violently pinched a small handful of ass flesh and twisted.

He stumbled backwards, but the strapy heels kept him sashaying smoothly.

At last the panties relented, and Jon mewled and panted weakly, as if to beg for mercy from his unexpected tormentors. "dude, this totally..." Another pinch greeted him, swift, sharp, and this time on his left nipple. He yowled again.

Grumbling Jon proclaimed, trying to appease his undergarments. "I'm quite flustered." His voice was sharp and gravely, and entirely unladylike, and the pinch returned, persistent but softer. He winced "This is not not quite what I expected at all." He whined with his flustered voice. The grip softened, so it was no longer painful, but he could feel, or thought he could feel, the remaining pressure on his breast. How 'lady like' did these things want him to speak? He fumed a moment, then realized the answer. Probably as lady like as he imagined when he made his wish.

He wiggled his hips, and rubbed his rear vigorously suddenly wondering if this was quite what he wanted or not. He fumed, and raged, and scowled, and pouted, but all the while he kept glancing at his reflection, drinking in his own frustration with a secret delight.

Though... That proved to be a catch 22. With every glance, the warm thrum of heat, and desire that emanated from his middle grew stronger, his body grew more flustered, and the clothes grew more displeased. The soothing rub of his hand on his abused ass cheek grew more sensual. The sweater snatched his hand away, and his panties dove into his ass cheeks in a deep flossing wedgie.

"OK F..." His harsh words caught in his throat as the pressure on his nipple returned.

"Very well." He quipped. The pressure released, but his panties stayed buried deep between his cheeks. "If this is how you're making it." He huffed, "I'll just go on with my day." Somewhat disjointed he realized "I guess, I don't really have a plan for today." The piping tones of his feminine voice trailed off, and he, or his clothes, cocked his hip to one side, and rested the back of his hand limply on that hip as he thought. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose with a dainty touch, then his eyes turned to the stone, which had fallen to the floor during the struggle. He smiled deviously. "Maybe..."




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