The second part of the story of the Stocking Sperm Challenge will make better sense if the reader is familiar with the original story.
*
Naturally, Ruby was enjoying telling April every saucy detail about what she had just put me through at my first and failed attempt at the Stocking Sperm Challenge and the history of my unsanctioned meddling with her intimate stinky bits and bobs and the manner in which she had ensnared me. April listened intently, occasionally interrupting her friend and between endless bouts of giggles asked,
“You didn’t, did you?” or “Did he really?” or “You set him up, didn’t you?”
Her careful attention to the details of Ruby’s story was a consequence of having played a sperm shooting challenge of her own with several of her boyfriends. The fact that I was now in the chastity device that Ruby had asked April to bring with her interested her a great deal because April loved to make photos of blokes in chastity, for her it was as good as filthy foreplay. She already had an extensive collection of images of guys wearing her stuff in tantalisingly submissive ways that connected with her enjoyment of controlling men, the bigger the hunk the better. Vibrating her pussy and clit in bed at night she would often gaze at the pictures she had made of guys she had disabled in chastity or had pantied up with her stuff and be amazed how easily they could be persuaded to dress up in girly stuff, a notion which made her dildo driven jilling that more intense.
April was bony and sexy and was ideal for skewering at either end. April and Ruby were identical in size and had similar body types, women with tiny tits and petite bubble butts with elegant slim limbs made for grappling and tight snatches for draining swollen balls. April was exotic and foreign, sexy and pretty and joyful, she was Romanian but her polished English accent revealed only a little of her native tongue. Originally a talented gymnast but following a badly torn ligament, she had had to abandon that career and had turned to expressive dance, a less strenuous demand on her diminutive frame.
Ruby had known April for some years since they first attended college for a foundation art course and had kept in touch. They had met when they had both turned up to rent the same room and the landlord, Cecil, had been prepared to sleep in the lounge to accommodate both women in his house. They later understood why he was prepared to go to such lengths but in those days they were young and innocent and hadn’t learned to count their panties after wash day. The girl’s also shared an interest in bending both ways and having had a fling with each other had become notorious among their contemporaries for bedding guys together. They were playful, naughty, imaginative and they liked men and being creatively filthy with them.
April had managed to secure a student room in women’s accommodation, a tower block at the local university for the summer period, a matter of good fortune because the rooms were much in demand. She knew Ruby would be attending the theatrical dance classes and had been looking forward to catching up with her friend again in the ambience of the theatre and dance school. There she could dangle her irresistible scantily clad frame in her leotard and yoga pants in front of lots of guys and entice them to play dirty dress-up sex games with them as a prelude to being fucked rigid.
“So what have you got in mind for Jack for the next four days that he’s in chastity?” April asked.
“General household duties, my own pretty little maid, dress him up a bit, that kind of thing. Hide him under his bed whilst above I do the kind of dirty stuff with another guy that he’d love me to do to him and take delight in him feeling the bed springs distort,” said Ruby. “Take him lingerie shopping. Use him as furniture, a doormat, a footstool and a clothes hanger. Put him in a nosebag and ride him around the flat. He loves my stinky stuff, it should get him ready for another bite of the cherry, that is another bout of the challenge,” Ruby said loudly and just in case I could hear her, she tailored the list to tease me. In fact, I heard every word and found her domineering intentions irresistible and listened to the two women with bated breath.
“What’s a ‘nosebag’ when it’s at home?” April inquired.
“Oh, something inspired by my little bro. I once saw him through a crack in the bathroom door. I watched him while he took all the stinky knickers he could find in the laundry basket, including some of my sister and cousin who was staying at the time and heaped them into the panty of a pair of smelly tan pantyhose. He put his face inside the putrid panty and tied the legs above his head and put the salty nylon toes in his mouth and began wanking furiously while sucking toe sweat and sniffing a whole nose bag of filthy feminine froth just like a naughty horsey.
In fact, I remember now, the first time I used the nosebag was with Cecil after he had sariyer escort already enjoyed a jolly good gusseting the previous week, you were away at the time, it was when you couldn’t leave David’s massive donkey pole alone, that period. I was lost for some form of novel humiliation for him when I remembered my little bro. I let Cecil choose some dirty panties and hose which he wore as his saddle and then put the rest of my soiled and sweaty hose and crusty knickers in another stinky pantyhose. He put his head in those and I tied the legs over his head and then used them as reins to steer him as I rode him around the living room. Start or stop was a stab with a heel in his panty covered balls. I had loads of photographs of Cecil all dressed up, I don’t know where they went, must have deleted them,” said Ruby.
April couldn’t help expressing her interest in taking photos of guys subjugated in girl’s stuff as well, so she inquired,
“Any chance of making some photos of Jack’s chastised cock in some of my naughty panties? I’ve been making a portfolio of guys in my stuff for a while, they look kind of ridiculous but I just love that, I love seeing my flimsy soiled scanties overwhelmed by a big fat swollen cock. Curious, because it’s the panties that actually overwhelm the guy and not the other way round. Who would have thought it, a simple soft swathe of cloth that has kissed fanny can humble the most massive and statuesque of them. Actually, I love photographing them on whichever part of them I choose to hang my knickers, I was inspired by Cecil too I never forgot your naughty story and often thought how he would have looked when you happened on him in the bathroom,” April revealed.
“Jack’s bandy about tiny panties, he’ll love yours, he’ll go bleary-eyed and breathless when we stuff his impotent chastised cock into them. Wow, we could do all sorts of naughty photographs with him,” Ruby enthused and thought about the photographs she had made of pathetic Cecil.
Listening to everything that the two women had shared so far I had to admit that Ruby was not wrong because my dick was already chaffing against my chastity cage.
“Ata girl, ‘You got the gist and he got the jism’, remember when we used to say that all the time?” April jibed and then recalled,
“I remember the first time when you coined the phrase when you were telling me about discovering Cecil with several pairs of your panties from your laundry basket in the bathroom stretched over his head, whilst viewing himself in the mirror and wanking like mad. He’d forgotten to lock the door hadn’t he?”
“That’s right I made some pictures of him, I don’t know where they went. Shame, they were so iconographic never has any little sissy looked so pathetic. Yer Cecil, puny Cecil with the big ears. He only went and hooked the waistband of four pairs of my grungiest scanties over his ears. You know, when you roll your knickers down your legs and the material furls up just leaving the gusset connecting the waistband like a figure of eight. He was a real weirdo. He’d put them on inside out so that he could see himself in the mirror with all my frosty sugar coating messing up the gussets, four stained and smelly gussets each arranged one above the other from his forehead down to his lips. You’d think he would rather have had my mess directly against his face, snorting the stench, teasing the curd away with his tongue but no he wanted to see my mess in the bathroom mirror. Mind you, as I say his silly countenance dressed like that was priceless.
He told me later that he put them on like that and imagined it was me that had done it to him. Quite prophetic really because in fact that’s what I did do to him later but only after securing him to my bed with pantyhose and edging him routinely over two hours. I teased him constantly by repeatedly pulling a soft nylon stocking slowly from his engorged shaft and over his sensitive glans. I can still see his pathetic struggling and hear his muffled groans through the dirty knickers I’d stuffed in his mouth. Then when I finally tugged him off into the crusty gusset of another pair I waxed lyrical about us blending in my panties. I made him chew on our mess in those too. And the pathetic little lad still wanted more. That’s about the time we played horsey. Quite sweet really,” Ruby elaborated.
“The stuff we used to do to them, those were the days. Let’s make Jack, jack,” April chuckled.
Ruby and April were due at the dance studio at Summer school later and had to leave. Before doing so Ruby called me into the living room and told me that she was taking back control of her stuff. She emptied her laundry basket and lingerie drawers into an airline cabin bag right before my eyes, securing it with a little padlock and slipping the key into her jean’s pocket.
“Is that thing hard already? Well, it’s tough luck. No play ’till Saturday, no sniffing, no fondling, no caressing, no dress-up and certainly no licking eskort or sucking,” Ruby insisted and grinned broadly such that the dimples in her cheeks had appeared before she had finished briefing me.
I had work to attend to as well and was glad I was paperhanging until the end of the week, my decorator’s overalls would help hide my stuffed chastity cage. Ruby hadn’t anticipated that my client was a really horny forty-something with a fit body. Penny was a petite dizzy blond that made great cakes and soon I was messing with her knickers, an easy task because I was working on the landing by her bedroom door and her en-suite bathroom where she stashed her laundry. I pinched a tiny stinky lacy black nylon thong of floral mesh with a hole worn through the floral embroidery just where Penny’s clit would sit. So I was able to satisfy my senses of olfaction and gustation after all and I spent three days wearing those tiny soiled knickers just to feel them tacky against my caged balls and to enjoy those periods when I would sit down with Penny during my tea break with a piece of freshly baked cake whilst I thought to say,
“Guess what Penny? We’re both wearing your naughty little knickers.”
Nonetheless, Saturday wouldn’t come soon enough for me and when I awoke I could hear the voices of both Ruby and April in the front room.
Ruby knocked on my bedroom door and opened it,
“No need to tell you what today is,” she announced. “Don’t bother to dress, April’s here too she wants to make some pictures of you in her skimpy knickers, you must come and look they’re so saucy and delicate, you’ll love them,” she added.
April was entirely comfortable being half-dressed in front of me. It was hardly mid-day and yet she looked like she was in the foundation for an elegant night on the town. Her hair piled upward resonated all the colours of a golden autumn and she wore her purple lipstick easily and had used a similar shade sparingly and effectively on her eye-lids. Her manicure was complete with crimson nails and she wore a slim black choker around her neck with a circular metal ring hanging from it that would have fitted over only the smallest of cocks. Her dainty ears were pierced, her naked shoulders adorable and in all, she was an exotic Hepburn utterly ripe for filthy pixie fun.
She was wearing a bright pink bra, mostly frothy lace with a pair of opaque but unsupportive panels to cover her stiff little nipples. She hadn’t much to support but I desperately wanted to see her dainty chest buds and have them between my lips and teeth or poking at the moist eye of my bell-end. I found her sheer black pantyhose very fetching with their patterned reinforcement of the panty imitating a pair of sexy lacy knickers. I would have loved her to sit on my nose and rub her goo all over my face. The hose reached all the way to her navel, she was such a small woman and the toe reinforcement reached towards the sole because she also had very petite feet. I wanted to worship and sniff her little black nylon soles and watch as my seething, volatile ejaculate exploded against them and inundated the nylon web of the toe reinforcement between her widely spread petite piggies.
I was obsessing over April’s panties that she was wanting to show to me and so I said to her, “I would really love to see your naughty knickers April, pretty please do show them to me.”
“All in good time, Jack. First, let me tell you about some of the naughty things I do with them and then I´ll only be too happy to introduce you,” she answered grinning broadly and continued,
“So the ‘Stocking Sperm Challenge’ Ruby told me about was something close to my heart. I’d done something similarly saucy myself but in my case, I would stand over a guy just in a pair of stinky panties that I would invite him to choose from the laundry and make him wank himself off. I would wear my fine net pantyhose, they have the seams front and back punctuated by ‘buttonholes’ along their entirety, like a rope ladder. I’d award a guy a score according to the loftiest hole reached by his jism when he finally shot his lot while lying on his back and goggling my panty crotch. There are twenty-four holes in a ladder and in my challenge each hole incremented by five as it ascended up the seam. Therefore the lowest score for a limp tosser would be five and the highest score for the high-flyers one hundred and twenty.
The score relates to the strokes of his prick he would be allocated for his second coming, that is a score of seventy-five might mean I jerked his cock with up to seventy-five tugs. A score of forty-five might be realised as forty-five strokes of his cock ploughing up the cleavage of my bony arse behind layers of naughty sheer panties and fine denier pantyhose. All depended on what kind of stroke they wanted.
My panty crotch, of the panties that they had chosen that I should wear, the one they would love to mess up had a score value of one hundred and eighty, beyoglu escort awarding more than enough strokes for a decent milking and so the best strategy was to just to aim for that. If their freely flying filth missed the bulls-eye it was sure to fall against my leg. The important thing for them was to win enough strokes to give themselves a chance of a happy ending when I let them spend their credits. If the candidate missed his happy ending they would simply go back in the little pink cage until I happened to feel like giving them another try. Actually, the second coming favoured the pathetic, the premature ejaculators.
It was quite common for a contender to be some strokes short of a happy ending, at the point of shuddering and whining and pleading for me to make them come. Ruined is ruined, they went into chastity. I had one guy who was desperate for me to tug him with my stinky panties that I was holding against his nostrils and let him cum in the stained gusset. It was an unlikely event because he only had a minimum score of five and yet five strokes from my silky little knickers and a good sniff were enough to cause him to make him dump his muck and make a soggy mess in my frothy knicks. Although to be honest I cheated a bit and stuck my finger up his arse and tickled his walnut just to help him on a bit. No coincidence that it was a particular pair of panties I’ve brought with me today. The pink and black ones, my ‘Princess Panties’, they’re magical and guys just can’t help losing it for them, quite uncanny.
I sat on one guy’s face for an hour and ground my sloppy gusset against his nose while wearing the prettiest, soft, sheer sea-blue bikini panties decorated with little amber coloured anchors. I rescued them from the laundry where I’d thrown them the morning before. I had pushed them right up inside me before I had slept happily during the night and the frosty smudge in the gusset was massive and nebulous and I just knew that I should put them on inside out to maximise his enjoyment. I’ve brought those sexy scanties with me too, Jack.
I talked dirty to the guy, it was early in the morning and I told him it was time for breakfast. Syrupy pantycakes followed by cheese on toes and then sat myself down with my filthy gusset dumped over his mouth and I told him to lick, suck, sniff and snort.
He’d only scored fifteen strokes from his efforts at my challenge but he had dumped such a pile of splendid thick white chud on the upper of my net stocking foot that I thought he deserved a second coming, it wasn’t his fault that his mess was too gooey to fly. His cock showed his appreciation for the pantycakes and eventually, it was time for his cheese on toes. I took some really crusty white knee-hi nylons from my sports bag and I slipped them on. I fed him my toes and said dirty things to him about what a naughty, pathetic boy he was for staring at my panty gusset and wanking himself off for them. Meanwhile, I sat between his legs and gave him loads of my sea-blue soppy gusset, the eye candy that he was gagging for.
I demanded that he clean my stinky sweaty socks and as he busied himself tonguing, and licking and slurping my dirty nylons so his shaft really began to become more and more rigid and his purple inflated bell-end prescribed little circles in the air and bounced to and fro against his abdomen. I asked him about my saucy fragile sea-blue panties and if he liked looking at them. He blurted out that he loved them and would do anything to be allowed to make a mess in the frothy little cloth, he meant it, his eye was weeping and was connected to his tummy by a delicate thread of cock mucous. I think in his imagination it was me that he thought would be wearing the naughty knickers that he would be unloading his filthy, fervent mess into but he realised otherwise when I slipped them off and put him into them and began his fifteen strokes. Meanwhile, he was taking huge snorts of my smelly white sports socks as I pressed the cheesiest parts of the toe nylon against his nostrils and I kept reminding him how much I wanted his dirty big man mess in my naughty little girly panties. Following eight long, slow, saliva lubricated strokes I pushed the palpitating horse hard to the finishing line and on the very last stroke his bell-end choked and spluttered and he began to spray his copious discharge of hot spunk at the stretched sheer nylon gauze of the front panel of my soon to be sodden panties. Some of his mess was really chunky, never seen spunk like it. All I asked in return was to photograph the spectacle,” April explained gleefully and chuckling to herself remembering the photograph she had made.
She showed Ruby and I a picture she had made on her phone. Sure enough, there was what appeared to be a recently evacuated prick sitting inside sea-blue panties and they were utterly sopping and splattered with globs of gelatinous pure white spunk just as she had described.
“These ones, in fact,” said April responding to my earlier request to show me her panties and hanging the fragile sea-blue gauze from a finger which she held loftily in the air. “Can you see the little anchors, I love them, they’re so naughty and the nylon so silky and soft,” she added.
