Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
| Blogs > Prof10001 > Publish or perish? |
Nothing like black panties
|
Nothing like black panties I was out biking yesterday on the road where I found the inspiration for this story. It has been a long time, so I thought I would share it again. [post 55519] |
|||
|
Fleeting images It is amazing really. Advertisers spend billions to get you to focus on their products. Porn sites plaster their entry pages with the most explicit images imaginable to get you looking their way but what really put one’s mind into high gear is the most transitory of images. I was out biking Sunday morning. I love riding the roads east of town. Narrow county lanes with few cars and fewer hills. I was a couple of miles outside the city rolling at a rather modest clip into a headwind. I’ve finally gotten smart enough to start into the headwind so that I have a prayer of making it home with a tailwind if I over extend my outbound leg. Anyway, I notice something lying in the road a bit ahead. It’s just small dark mass. Nothing special, a clod of loose tar or a chipmunk lacking in the required dexterity to clear the road. It is a couple of feet from the shoulder of the road on a slight downward incline. I’ve accelerated a bit against the wind with gravity lending me a hand. The dark mass flicks by as I cruise between it and the shoulder of loose gravel. “What was tha. . .?” I snap my eyes back over my shoulder to try and confirm what I imagined I saw but the distance is already too great to be sure. Panties? Small black panties? I look forward again and literally say out loud, “nah couldn't’t be.” But the image is there. It must have been. Folded roughly in half. I steer in a circle across the width of the road my gaze focused back the way I came, looking at the small black puddle a few tens of yards behind. On the second circuit across the road I reverse course. Down shifting without thinking about it, my pedals slowly revolving, bringing me closer. “Can’t be” But the apparition captured in the instant of passing is correct. They are small and black, made of a somewhat open weave of a slightly stiff synthetic fabric that must look sexier than they actually feel. The asphalt is dark beneath them. But, as I circle slowly about them in the road, I picture that they would be just slightly translucent against fair skin. On the second tight little circle around them I consider stopping to pick them up. The thought pops into my mind that it could be a horny teen’s idea of a joke. I look all around, but no laughing adolescents are to be seen. The nearest farm house is several hundred yards farther south. I’m amused with myself for considering it a plant. “Yeah, let’s put my sister’s panties in the road. Some old geek is sure to grab them.” Ok, a little too far from plausible. I circle once again before resuming my southbound leg. Leaving the panties behind, “yeah, I’d feel like some old geek if I picked them up.” But even as I rolled away the images flooded my mind. Faster and more vivid than any ad manager could dream of. “How did they get there?” “Blown off a stack of laundry in the windy back seat of a passing car?” “No.” Tossed, temptingly, seductively out the window. Yes. Tossed by who……..him……….or her? Removed by who?………him?………..or her? Her,..................her. They are driving out of the town, cool night air swirling through the car. They are searching for a place for privacy, a place to park, a place to release the energy that builds whenever they are together. Playing a game, “You keep driving and I’ll give you a lovely show………no, no, no, no, no; you’ve got to keep driving or no show.” As she leans against the door on the far side of the car and raises her left leg to reveal small black panties beneath her skirt in the glow of the dashboard lights he vows to keep driving until the last ounce of fuel is sucked from the tank. She teases and coaxes. Her words and actions tormenting him, for now. He’ll have his release, but, for now, this is fun and sexy and powerful. Her fingers wander; pressing and stretching the fabric. Her words taunt him, “Wet………….slippery……….ready………” Her fingers disappear behind the film of black. “Mmmm, …..inside………..like you………..” The car slows, “No, no, no……..not the game…..the show stops if you stop driving.” Desperation is in his voice, “please?” “Oh, you need more of a reason to keep driving? More of a show?” Her hips rise and the panties are pressed down her legs. The view in the dim light is indistinct and enthralling at the same time. She leans toward him twirling the panties on her finger. “I guess we don’t need these for the show anymore, hmm?” She reaches her arm outside the open window. Panties, hooked on her index finger, fluttering in the flow of moist night air. She flicks her finger and they vanish instantly in the dark. Coasting my bike to a halt at a stop sign, I look back up the county road over my shoulder. The last, what? Mile? Two? Had not registered. But the images had registered. The girl, the panties, the playful ache had all registered. I’m turning west, “finally a bit of a tailwind.” I look back into the distance where the dark mass is far out of view and only a memory. I guess the advertisers and the porn sites still have a few tricks to learn.
|
Become a member to create a blog
