Tight, Tighter, Tightest — Julius

They talked kinks.

“Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” Kirsty said.

“I have this thing, girls in tight clothing.”

“I like wearing tight stuff,” she confessed.

The idea was born, “Let me tie you up and I’ll give you a treat,” she said in a whisper.

*

His back was against the jack post, his hands bound to it. Naked save his boxers, Kevin was nervous.
Kirsty appeared wearing a bathrobe. Her hair was in small ponytails above her ears. Bright red lipstick and blue eye shadow, she looked ten years younger than her twenty four; her ‘jail bait look.’

She opened the robe. The look on his face made her heart bounce. Kirsty wore just pink bra and panties. ‘Tight’ and ‘brief’ didn’t begin to describe them. His cock reared.

The bra cups were beautifully overfilled by heavy breasts, the skimpy straps cutting into her softness. The panties clung to her mound’s plump contours, outlining her cleft.

She’d trimmed her pussy. Not a wisp of hair showing. Gone the lovely blond bush.

She moved close, her perfume enveloped him. Her breasts, in their straining cups, brushed against his chest and her belly teased his hardness. “Like my outfit?” her voice was a throaty whisper.

“Love it!” he said, gulping. She backed away, turned. She was rewarded by his groan. The tiny panties only half covered her ass. She stood feet apart and bent to touch her toes. The swell of her mound showed between her legs. He squirmed; his cock became a proud ridge up the front of the shorts. She straightened and turned, her eyes on the bulge.

Kneeling, she reached for his shorts. The swollen head of his erection appeared, its little slit gaping. His beautiful cock waved inches from her face. Kirsty’s hunger threatened to take control. She wanted to press her face against his cock, nuzzle his pubic hair, lick his balls.

She got up and walked to Kevin’s workbench and picked something up. He marvelled at the twitch and wiggle of
her buttocks, the dimples where her spine flared into soft flesh. The creases where ass became thighs.

She walked back. Her bra-held breasts jostled and bounced. A bungee round her neck dangled its hooks beside her breasts.

“Kevin likes girls in tight things?”

He nodded.

Turning away she reached for the bungee’s hooks and slipped one under each side of her panties. She released and gasped loudly as the panties’ crotch grabbed her. On either side they were pulled up level with her bra. Oh God, the tightness between her legs. She closed her eyes.

Kevin squirmed, imagining.

She walked slowly away again, exaggerating her strut. The panties worked their way across her buttocks and into the cleavage of her ass. She was being violated. Deeper and tighter, ever tighter. Every step a thrilling tease, her panty crotch was raping her!

Kevin stared. Between Kirsty’s legs her panties seemed to disappear into her body. He was too aroused to keep still. The turned and wiggled her way back towards him. Oh God! She hadn’t shaved herself completely, just trimmed. Now the straining panties divided her pussy and a small bush of her blond curls showed defiantly from either side.

“Jeez Kirsty!” he exclaimed

“Yes?” she said, feigning puzzlement.

“You’re killing me!” he said.

She clamped her thighs tightly together and giggled, I think I’m killing me too!” She cocked her hips first one way and then the other, “This is for Kevin who likes girls in tight clothes” She made an open-arms-look-at-me gesture. With each move the hooks dragged the panties deeper. Kirsty fought back a moan.

Kevin’s cock throbbed. “Untie me Kirsty, please.”

She looked at his cock, “He’s drooling.”

He looked; a glistening jewel of precum was welling out of the tiny slit in his cock head. She bent, and licked it off with her tongue tip. His cock twitched violently. Straightening, she slowly licked her lips. Kirsty wasn’t as cool she was pretending. A glow spread through her and an insistent pulse throbbed in her pussy.

Her breasts had swollen, their nipples poked proudly against the bra’s nylon. The panties’ action between her legs was driving her wild, tormenting every nerve ending.

“I can’t take much more of this,” said Kevin, his voice a croak.

“You’ll have to sweet, girl-ogling Kevin,” She slid a hand down into her panties. “Ever see anything this tight?” Her fingers probed further, finding heat and wetness. Kirsty raised her hands to her breasts. Slowly she scratched her nipples through the bra, nails on nylon wickedly audible. She rubbed her knees together; bit her lower lip, her arousal showed in every move.

Her nipples signalled her pussy, it was about to betray her. Helpless, she sank onto the cold concrete. The crotch of her panties cut into her and she cried out. It hurt, a beautiful hurt. Sprawled at Kevin’s feet, her hands went to her pussy. Fingers found clit. She began working herself through the soaked nylon.

Kevin, desperate now, watched her writhe on the floor. He squirmed too, his cock waving futilely.

She came, sobbing, her eyes fixed on his, her hand trapped between her thighs as she humped through her climax. Seemingly endless spasms, as the aftershocks followed.

Spent, she lay, her chest heaving.

Kevin thought he’d lose his mind! His longing for her, his desperation for his own release. His whole being seemed focused on his erection. It wasn’t possible surely, to endure this level of arousal?

She struggled to her knees, reaching for him. Her hand wrapped around his cock, squeezed. It was the trigger Kevin needed. He crouched over and came. His whole body spasmed. White arcs jetted, once, twice, three times, from him to her face, her breasts. Then, gentle, diminishing spills and Kevin was done, spent.

“See what happens, watching girls in tight clothes?” she whispered.

____________________

Julius says this about himself: “I suppose I qualify now as a dirty old man. Not really DIRTY but with a certain delight in things erotic. But yes, OLD by most folks standards. MAN, despite thinkng woman the better gender of the species.  I love writing what I call smut, it’s delicious mental masturbation and if others get a certain charge from my efforts, that’s a bonus. Like all writers I crave comment from my audience.”