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Forbidden fantasy brings Kylie and Shauna closer together.

Sometimes I was lucky enough to take a sneak peek and get a glimpse of her bra through the stretched openings between the buttons of her shirt. I guess you could say she unwittingly initiated me into the mind-blowing world of compulsive masturbation, tracing a destination I won't ever be able to escape from.

She once caught me sneaking around her underwear and asked me what the hell I was doing with the bras and panties I stole from her drawer. I was dying of embarrassment while she became silent, looking me in the eye with a harsh expression. After a lot of insistence and intimidation, she forced me to confess in extreme shame that sometimes I touched myself using her lingerie as an enticement. She took a long silent pause and finally warned me that I had to be punished for my daring, asking me if I'd rather be reported to my parents or get my penalty straight from her. I was terrified that my parents would get to know of my weakness and so I thought it would be better to surrender and accept her as a provider of the fated discipline.

While making this decision, although I couldn't imagine it at the time, I was voluntarily undergoing into a deep submission scheme that would last for years, with strong repercussions in my future sexual behavior.

In deep humiliation I waited for my fortune when suddenly I became aware of an odd emotion superseding my shame: the dominating authority of that striking woman aroused me like no other thing ever did. A few minutes later I was longing for my sentence and my excitement was far greater than if there was a prize involved.

And the punishment soon came out. I was told to carry out what I usually did on the sly whenever I could get my hands on her lingerie. But this time I had to do it right in front of her. I was commanded to reproduce before her all the staging and standard procedures of a wanking session, as if I were alone performing my fantasy. By way of further punishment, she ruled that I should use the panties she was wearing, at the time, rather than clean panties from the drawer. Fearfully I waited for her to take them off and the session became a double debut. She stripped off her panties with that teasing elegance that only women know how to perform, making them slide slowly down her legs.

In a harsh tone she ordered me to wrap my penis in her panties and stroke it. "This is how you usually do it, right?" she mocked. "Let me see you do it, little pervert!" she added, keeping a sarcastic tone.

Until now, I had never been blessed with the chance of using panties already donned, hers or anybody's. The novelty of her generous offer made me feel obliged to show my gratitude, begging her to let me use them in a slightly different manner than usual.

She was curious, asking me if it wasn't all about wrapping my dick in her panties and stroke it until orgasm. At least that was what she had always thought wankers must do with stolen panties. I agreed, saying that this was the standard procedure ... when you do it with clean panties. But once she decided to reward me with the panties she was wearing, it would be a sin not to take advantage of this bonus and miss the opportunity of tasting her juices, feel her scent and have a ball while doing it.

I was embarrassing myself and, once again, an unusual joy was coming out of that humiliation, making me unable to explain the reason for this to happen. At the time, I wasn't aware of the grounds for such bliss, it just puzzled me how could I withdraw pleasure from such an uneasy situation. Over the years I learned from practice that it was a kind of sweet surrender, an unrestricted abandonment of my free will before her whim and the exhilaration induced by the prospect of her unpredictable conduct.

By this time, she handed to me the white cotton panties that were hanging from the tips of her fingers.

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