Abstinence Makes The Panties Grow Wetter.

‘Fuck that!” 

Yesterday morning, Miss Brain’s immediate response to me deciding to leave myself alone for a few days is immediate, forceful and unequivocal.

But I’m in charge….not Miss Brain. (Well maybe) And so as my decision is made, Miss Brain rolls her sleeves up, and goes to,work by twiddling my perception filters. 

First, she makes me notice absolutely everything. Everybody. From the adolescent to the elderly, from men to women. The war has begun. 

I don’t believe in coincidence, yet at times like this, I seem to see way more sexual things. Like the girl on the village green yesterday. She was just sitting there her legs out in front yet slightly open. One moment her right hand was up under her shirt, the next it was under her skirt. As an adolescent, I experienced the horror of intensely itchy nipples, and believe me, pubes work the same way, but then I realised she wasn’t merely having a quick itch. She went back and forth, boob to crotch, until she turned a deep red. Every fibre of my being applauded her! Full-on masturbation sitting smack in the middle of the village green….actually in the middle of the cricket pitch! It also made me flood myself of course! Bugger! 

Now, strange as it may sound, I don’t have a raging desire to get between the legs of every girl I see playing with herself. I am fully able to rejoice in the pleasure of others without feeling that I have to fuck them. Good girl! That took courage, but it’s not the first time I’ve seen adolescents do things like that. 

Yes, I could have wanked myself off to that, and when I didn’t Miss Brain took it up a notch. There’s a woman in the village who I knew from school, but not at all well. She, unlike me, is an avid churchgoer, and she has two enormous tattoos on her back! She’s the least likely person you’d think would be tattooed, but it shows she likes a little pain. As do I. Similarly, there’s a girl who works in the pharmacy who has a number of tattoos on her back. I must admit, I fancy her like crazy. Sarah would, I have no doubt whatsoever be fabulous in bed, and I’m pretty sure she bats for both teams. Or might do, given the chance. Or maybe I just hoped she would.

Another flood. You know, it’s strange how I can actually feel these…..oh I don’t know the word….not ‘flood’ exactly….it’s closer to taking aa sip of water them just opening your mouth again. ‘Gout’`? Yes, let’s call it a ‘gout’ into my panties, which made Miss Brain up the ante and forced me to think of Sarah’s panties. 

Today as I waited in the queue and watched her go about her business in the pharmacy, I noticed her tattoos visible through her crisp whit shirt, and saw just a hint of her panties through her skirt. She’s unmarried but has three children. She has those special kind of lips that indicate her enjoyment of pain too…..why am I obsessed with pain today? Oh well. I can well imagine her being an ‘early starter’, losing her virginity at oh, let’s say 14. 

Again, coincidence? She squats to retrieve a few packets of drugs from a low drawer and I’m blessed with a full-on view of her crotch. Dark blue panties, and a small but obvious moist patch. Fuck! Now my clit’s really tingling. Miss Brain is angry now. She demands that I imagine sucking Sarah through her panties, or imagine her pissing through them. The big guns are coming out now! I find I’d like to use my whip on her, and I rather think she’d like it. Oh, stop it Anna, or you’ll cum spontaneously in your panties right here.

Miss Brain leaps on the thought. “Yes! You are capable of cumming without touching yourself!” As I shuffle one pace forward, I realise that I’m actually quite close as well. I can’t seem to take my eyes off Sarah. Miss Brain flashes image after image at me, scenario after scenario. One moment, Sarah is being stretched by The Lovely Chris’s cock, her shaven cunt lips kissing his shaft. The next she’s on all fours and he is poised to go up her arse. She wants him to hurt her. 

An involuntary shudder passes through me not quite disguising the preemptory contraction in my vagina. The next, she’s squatting over my face. I can smell her…..I feel as if I can actually smell her panties and the moist stain on them….oh, that light, almost flowery scent, the sexual musk beneath it, and there, almost hidden, almost undetectable, the brackish scent of `Sarah’s piss. 

The orgasm rolls through me as I stand there, legs clamped firmly together. Miss Brain can be cruel. She’s fully capable of making me wet myself as I cum, or squirt so much the flimsy protection of my panties proves insufficient. 

I do squirt, heavily. I feel it fill the crotch of my panties even as I have to move forward for my turn….and it’s `Sarah who comes to the counter, she smiles at me and asks what I need. I see her tongue…her beautiful sexual tongue that, in his instant, I want lapping at my cunt. Even though I’m still cumming I manage to tell her what I need in a reasonably steady voice, but, she knows something’s happening. Does she know I’m cumming`? I know only too well that my neck is red and my face blotchy. What can be seen of my upper chest tells the story as well. I’m sure she knows. She returns with what I asked for and looks me right in the eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Miss fucking Brain takes in Sarah’s dilated pupils, her flared nostrils, and those sensual lips. Oh yes, Sarah, there’s so much you could do for me, and I for you! She smiles again. I’m sure she knows. As I pay I feel the wetness begin to migrate from my panties to my inner thighs! It took me months of trying to learn to cum without physical contact, and now I curse the day….well…not really. 

I squelch my way back to my car in the pub car park, and realise I lasted less than 48 hours. 

As I drive home, I can’t stop thinking about Sarah. She sometimes drops into the pub for a quick bite to eat on her way home from work. My outlets have a strange philosophy. We serve food and drink when people want it, not to some prescribed set of trading hours. 5:00-6:30 is a really lucrative ‘tea time’ income for us. 

I change my soaked panties, clean up, and drive back to the pub. Sure-enough at 5:30, Sarah comes in and asks for her usual toasted cheese sandwich and coffee. I make it myself (under my chef’s critical eye) and take it to her sitting outside looking over the beer garden. She invites me to sit with her. Waste of time changing the panties. 

She talks of work, I ask about her kids….they’re away with their father for two weeks. (She never married or lived with him, but he’s involved in his children’s lives). She speaks of loneliness, grins cheekily, and adds “…especially at night.” I tell her someone who looks like her has no problem in finding a man. She looks out over the garden. For a moment, I don’t think she’ll reply, my remark didn’t invite a reply after all, it was more a statement. She sighs, and I inhale her breath. “Maybe I should try a girl.” Oh, so much in that sentence! ‘Try’ implies she hasn’t yet, while the whole sentence speaks of her interest. I wait too. “You haven’t? With a girl, I mean.” She sighs. “No…thought about it…thought about it many times, especially at night, but….no…not yet.” (“Yet’. On her ‘fuckit list’ then.) I decide to cast my net on the waters. “You’ll love it. Sex with another girl is…….amazing.” 

She finishes her coffee, obviously deep in thought. I wonder if I should push the point further, but I’m not sure I’m reading the signals right. I know what I’d like to say, but if I fuck this up, I’ll spoil any possibility. I decide to back off from what would have amounted to a direct invitation, and go for, “Well, my first time with a girl was purely in my head….and my hand.”

“Oh, been there….done that” Sarah’s reply is instantaneous….yet filled with longing too. I decide to tease.

“You want to know how I discovered I really wanted to have sex with a girl?” She nods and draws her chair closer. I tell her about my locker room exploits. 

Pauses in conversations are wonderful. There’s so much in them and if you are attuned to such things, you can sense changes in the silence, unspoken comments and questions fill the void, as do emotional changes…and physical ones. 

I noticed Sarah’s pulse quicken in her neck, and distinct colouring began to mark her upper chest.

“Wow..that’s really sexy! Brave too. I like (she drops her own voice to a mere whisper) my own scent and taste, but I don’t know if I’d like another girl, you know?” I explain that was my worry too hence I thought I’d find out with doing the panty thing. Again, I cast my eyes over her face neck and chest. Unmistakably sexually aroused. I wondered what state her undies would be in right now. They were visibly moist at work. I suspected they’d be in a worse state now. 

Oh, what,  me? Kind of you to ask. My heart was hammering out of my rib cage! Talk about aroused! I would have had her right there, but I believe in the old saying of “Don’t shit where you eat”. I can’t really take her inside, through the bar, upstairs, into a bedroom and fuck her brains out and it not be noticed! But boy, was I ready for her. 

Finally she broke the silence. “I’m not sure how….that is, I don’t know…..er….” 

“You don’t know how to make the first move.” She nodded. 

I placed my hand on her knee under the table. 

“Then don’t.”