Threads, Wetness, and a Hint of Lace

The rain hammered against the windows of the penthouse, each drop a frantic drumbeat against the glass, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my own pulse. Below, the city sprawled out, a glittering tapestry of neon and shadows, but here, in this opulent, isolated space, it felt like the entire world was condensed into the confines of my apartment. And right now, my entire world revolved around the scent of rain, the feel of silk against my skin, and the anticipation that coiled tight in my stomach.

It had started innocently enough. Just a casual scroll through a forum, seeking a little distraction from the monotony of my day. Then I stumbled upon the thread, “What underwear do you like?” The responses were a chaotic mix of preferences, a bizarre collection of fetish desires and personal preferences. But one comment, a simple line of text, struck me like a lightning bolt: "I posted a comment about underwear here."

Intrigued, I delved deeper, finding a meticulously crafted set of “Underwear Guidelines.” The recommendations were shockingly specific, bordering on obsessive. “Must be good to feel yourself through. (Unlined knickers are better than lined ones.) Wetness should show up. Should be thin enough to be partly see-through. (Sexy and arousing to see the hint of pubic hair.) When wet, should be more transparent.” The last line, in particular, sent a shiver of both excitement and apprehension down my spine. The thought of seeing the wet, creamy, cummy evidence of my pleasure on display, a tantalizing peek at the forbidden, was both terrifying and utterly irresistible.

I’d always enjoyed the feeling of moisture, the slickness of wet fabric against my skin. But the idea of intentionally seeking out that sensation, of actively creating the conditions for maximum arousal, felt both new and intensely liberating. My usual routine of comfortable cotton briefs felt suddenly inadequate, a pale imitation of the experience I craved.

Tonight, I was determined to indulge in that desire.

My assistant, Marco, a handsome, muscular man with a penchant for discreet service, had already prepared the space. The lighting was dim, casting long, dramatic shadows across the plush velvet chaise lounge where I intended to spend the evening. A large, silk sheet lay draped across the furniture, its pale ivory color contrasting sharply with the dark tones of the room. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something subtly musky, a blend of expensive cologne and arousal.

I had chosen the perfect set of underthings for the occasion: a pair of black, lace-trimmed thongs, so thin they seemed almost non-existent. The material was cool and smooth against my skin, a delightful contrast to the heat building within me. They were the perfect balance of support and transparency, just as the guidelines suggested. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

As I moved about the apartment, applying a generous amount of body lotion, focusing on my erogenous zones, my thoughts raced. The thought of my partner, Liam, would soon be here, further fueling my desires. He was a demanding man, a connoisseur of pleasure, and he knew exactly what he wanted. The idea of submitting to his needs, of letting him guide me through the depths of my own arousal, was both frightening and exhilarating.

The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound that sliced through the tension. Marco opened the door, his eyes scanning the room before offering me a small, knowing smile. "He's here," he whispered, gesturing towards the hallway.

Liam arrived moments later, a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing blue eyes and a confident swagger. He took one look at me, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face, and immediately began to assess the situation. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He simply walked towards the chaise lounge, his gaze lingering on my exposed legs.

“You look amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Perfectly prepared.”

I took a deep breath, letting out a small, involuntary sigh. “I thought you might enjoy it,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift the edge of the silk sheet, revealing the delicate lace thongs beneath. He traced the lines of the fabric with his fingers, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through my body.

“The wetness is exquisite,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Just as I imagined.”

As he continued to explore, my inhibitions melted away, replaced by a primal urge for connection and pleasure. The rain continued to fall outside, its rhythmic drumming now blending seamlessly with the pounding of my heart.

He began to stroke my legs, slowly, deliberately, teasing me with the promise of more. The sensation was electric, sending waves of heat through my veins. He moved higher, his hand sliding up my thighs, pausing briefly to press his lips against my skin.

“Do you enjoy this?” he asked, his breath warm against my ear.

“More than you know,” I gasped, unable to tear my eyes away from his touch.

He continued his exploration, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. He pulled back the sheet further, exposing more of my body to his gaze. The thin lace thongs were clinging to my skin, clinging to every curve, every crevice. The wetness was even more pronounced now, clinging to the fabric like a second skin.

As he reached my crotch, he paused, his hand hovering just above the area. He tilted my hips slightly, giving him a better view. The sight of my wet, creamy, cummy flesh was both shocking and incredibly arousing.

“You’re a masterpiece,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence.

He lowered his hand slowly, deliberately, and began to thrust. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, pushing me to the edge of ecstasy. My breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles tensed, and my body shook with uncontrollable pleasure.

The rain continued to fall, washing away the last vestiges of my inhibitions, leaving only the pure, unadulterated joy of the moment. As he continued to dominate me, I closed my eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasure, letting go of all control, embracing the exquisite sensation of wetness, warmth, and the undeniable power of desire. The world narrowed down to just him, just the rain, and the overwhelming sensation of being utterly consumed by pleasure. This was everything I had ever wanted, and more.

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