Global warming or simply the wrath of God has visited on our city an unprecedented attack of pollen. Causing no end of
arthritis, sneezing, asthma, weird fatigue– you name it— every auto-immune disease any doctor every invented. I have been immobilized by asthma and bad joints— not just me, but a good number of my friends. Each with another description of what’s wrong with them because of the miserable weather. Some don’t know it’s weather, but think they’re depressed and go to a doctor to get pills. Others think the problem is in their lover or their boss or their teenage kid and treat him or her like shit. Other people think they’ve suddenly lost the will to live and are basically bad, undisciplined people. But in every case it is just the weather and the pollen.

I managed to make myself work and be productive, but actually I was sick even during our wonderful session together. And after it I could not cum, no matter how much I wanted to. I simply did not have the breath.
However, the gargantuan white panties I had ordered under your previous influence arrived in the mail and I put them on. I have much to learn about panty sizes! They weren’t tight, (there was room in their for a pair of mating gerbils) but, they felt rather sexy. And I wore them for a lovely wracking session of your tape Panty Playtime in which I did actually cum!!

The next day, yesterday that is, I dutifully wore them in the morning when I went out to do errands. When I stood up in them in my house, the fine little silken things rubbed naughtily between my thighs and I felt like a queer. I felt as if I were walking like a queer, rubbing my thighs together. I chuckled to think of the strange unexpected things you get me into and chuckling so, went about my day.

I guess what I did next was under the influence of the panties, because it happened senselessly, suddenly, and out of the blue. For no special reason, I put on my best pair of $600 dress pants, deep blue with a tasteful sheen, perfectly cut to my copious figure. I put on a dress shirt. I shaved and scrubbed and anointed myself with Caswell and Massey for Men, a fantastic fragrance now out of print (replaced, for some reason by a less manly sent called “Nomad,” which is an odd name, because I’ve smelled nomads before and they smell like gigantic over-ripe cheeses, no kidding.) I put on my nice sports jacket. I already had a splendid haircut, a pedicure and manicure. I felt deeply cool (although, as I said, slightly queer). I called my old girlfriend Suzy, thinking I would give the girl a thrill. She slaves away in a windowless office for no money surrounded by Neanderthals who scrape their knuckles when they walk. I swept her out of her cruddy office and we lunched in high style at the Plaza Hotel. It is a sumptuous buffet.

I am the one who taught the poor, never-been-anywhere cook how to make a garlicky no-holds-barred tomato sauce for my pasta. Then, the gay Concierge came over to our table and regaled us with gossip about the town: the latest movies, opera, Moulin Rouge, and the Beggar’s Opera.
I drank several Vodkas, feeling expansive and magnanimous like my father used to be when he was alive and rich. Suzy got cross-eyed on margaritas and ate all the loxs on the buffet. Then we waddled and staggered with ineffable dignity to the men’s store in the hotel, where I bought more fantastic clothes, bending my credit card over backwards. I had picked some really fancy material for my custom shirts this time. Quite expressive.

I kept on thinking, however, of my panties underneath. Sashaying around a men’s store in panties is a trip! Sailing out with packages, nicely high on Vodka and burping garlic and olive oil. I thought we were having a fine time and this was the auspicious moment to get my new watch band. So I spent my last buck on a crocodile watch band, my second to last buck on Suzy’s lunch, and the next buck I’m gonna make on a bunch of custom dress shirts.

The all-knowing gay concierge directed us to a watch store around the corner where I could buy my watch band. I felt so horny in my panties and fantastic clothes! The tiny store had a delectable pale skinned black girl fixing watches and a huuuuuge fat black woman handling the clients. My underwear made me lust after the coffee-colored girl, extremely. Actually, on second thought I began to feel that the fat woman was looking pretty good too.

I felt outwardly like James Bond and inwardly …well, like a sly slippery slut-slave. Underneath my rich-guy pants I was dressed as a girl. The thought, for some reason, made me want to jump every lady I met. Maddened by male vanity and the perverse panties, I bought the beautiful crocodile watch band for myself and swept out of the store trailing clouds of glory. I felt jaunty, very well-dressed, most awfully cool. I dropped Suzy off at her office and went home to do some work……… and get naked with your tapes.

The next day Suzy dropped over at dinner time and offered to bicycle with me. Part of her campaign to improve my health. I gave
her a warm, comforting bowl of macaroni and cheese and went to my bedroom to change out of the panties, afraid I might slide off the bike seat in them.

Suddenly there appeared my young neighbor —-a very very young woman indeed who, against all reason, has taken a liking to me. She’s a very delightful companion because she is both beautiful and tremendously intelligent with a fantastic job and interesting stories.

She was wearing a girlish fuck-me dress— sky blue with cornflowers on it, light material that on the slightest wind and at the tiniest provocation floated upwards like feathers, seemingly in slow motion. It was gathered at her breast like a regency outfit, fluttering up over her knees, so that she looked alternately five years old and ageless as Venus. Observing her outfit, I thought, “She can’t be coming over here to make love to me. I must be reading the signals wrong. She’s wearing that dress so that her knees will stay aerated. But Suzy’s eyes bugged out as she watched the wind lift the dress above young girl’s knees and she started to withdraw, as if she were reading the signals the same way as me and wanted to give me room for my windfall of young girl sex. I gallantly suggested all three of us take a bike ride together. And so we did. And I rode off pantyless for an asthmatic bike ride with these two women.

The ride was long and very nice but, I thought to myself, “What have those panties done to me? Am I becoming a queer that hangs out with gangs of girls? Or, on the other hand, could it be the panties that are magically magnetizing women for me? I feel horny, but somehow passionless.I thought well, I’ll just go with the weirdness of the multiple women and all these symbols of sex and spring.”

When we got home, Suzy disappeared like a shot, perhaps hoping or fearing that I would get lucky. It turned out that the gorgeous satin skinned young girl had indeed decided to make love to me, although I was physically totally unready. I had looked forward to an evening of listening to my Mistress’s voice while sinking to new depths of single perversity. Instead, I was to have an affair with this unearned goddess. She was wearing exquisite underwear……. Fortunately, I was not.

Mistress, your panties, your black nylons (the gifts you had sent me) and my gargantuan panties were all sitting in drawer of my night table along with every tape you’ve sent me.

I then went into the next room and conferred with my dick: “Okay boy, it’s up to you now. This is that young girl I have been praying for and now God has given her to me on a silver platter. You must fuck her.”
“Listen, ass-hole. I’m your dick. I call the shots here and I’m not going to get stiff for you just now. Play those hypnotic tapes if you want to see me stiff. Or wait a week until you and I both feel better.” I answered, “No, uh, dick. That’s not the way it works. If a young girl shows you the road to her pussy, you get stiff right then. That’s the rule. It has always been this way, since we were young….. “you and I.” You don’t wait until you feel better or until some lady (no matter how lovely and alluring) California dominates you and makes you a submissive. “Sorry,” my dick answered. I want the mistress. I belong to her.” “No dick, you belong to me. Look, we’re attached. And I want everything, both the young girl and the Mistress. So you must get stiff for both of them like a good little dick. Those are my orders”

“Fuck you, I’m not getting stiff.”
“No, fuck HER. This is the chance of lifetime.”
“I don’t care. I’m a dick. I live in the present. I don’t
know from lifetimes and chances. If I want to get stiff, I get
stiff, if I don’t, I don’t, and you can just fuck yourself.”

“I can’t fuck anything if you won’t get stiff.”

“You’ve got lips. Use ’em.”

“If I do, will you get hard?

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about a thing. Just get down there.

Yeah, of course you will! This is just one of your little dick tricks. You wait for me to give a girl head, and then maybe you get into the swing of things and maybe you don’t.”

“I belong to the Mistress.”

“Stop saying that! You’re MY dick! You’ll do what I say.”

“I’m your dick, alright. That’s why you do what I say? Remember when you were a young boy and sat around reading science fiction all the time? And then one day I said, ‘Get off your ass and get one of those girls for me. Who was in charge then?”

“That’s right. You were in charge then. And look what trouble you got me into. None of those girls wanted to fuck a nerd like me and you drove me from one pointless date to another. You made me a laughing stock.”

“I don’t care. I’m your dick, not your press agent. And now I belong to the Mistress.”

“I know. I know…. Well listen! SHE would want you to get hard after I do what I’m about to do: I’ll just go in there and lick that girl’s pussy until she comes. Then I will have, ahem, “pleased a superior woman.” Then the Mistress will be satisfied that I’ve been a good woman-worshiper and you can go ahead and get hard enough to provide me with an ordinary sexual experience. Okay? Is it a deal?”

“I’m a dick. I don’t make deals.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Whatever the Mistress says.”

“Oh, shut up.”

After this conversation, I felt I had no choice but to go back in my bedroom and please the young girl. After all, I liked her as a person; she is a woman and deserves to cum. And, recently I seem to enjoy giving women head just in a general sort of way. It didn’t use to be like that. But now it is. So, when we started kissing, I felt a deep affection and sort of fatherly love. The longer I licked her pussy, the more my passion built, but it never reached the sharp, predatory masculine wolfish passion I had when I was a young man. I seemed to be satisfied with making another person happy and in feeling the soft wondrous texture of a woman’s private parts. Every thirty minutes or so I would take a break and quickly ask my dick if it was ready to jump in? But it always answered, “keep on sucking her pussy. I’ll pitch in next time.” Or it would piously say, “Think of the Mistress and keep licking.” Once it said, “Work on the breasts, twenty minutes each.” I said, “Don’t give me orders. I’m a free man.” It said, “No you’re not. You’ve never been free. I used to rule your life and now what I ruled is ruled by the Mistress. And by the way, it’s time for you to switch breasts. Work on the left one first. Listen to see if she’s making little happy noises or breathing deeply. If not, that will indicate that it’s time for you to work on the clitoris.” I said, “Now you’re talking like one of those cheap, New Age sex manuals.” And my dick answered, “That’s because all of those manuals were written by dicks.” Well, after the wondrous young girl left, I went back to listening to you on the headphones. For THAT my dick got hard.