Fetish - lingerie, pantyhose, stockings

2 I-s

     “The self-division of the I is a common
     phenomenon in cases of masturbation.”

          Fernando Pessoa

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While on the plane, Allen’s thoughts wandered to his wife, to the soft feel of her skin the night before. He felt his erection pressing uncomfortably against his pants, he moved a bit in his seat, stealthily adjusting himself. Letting his mind drift, he pictured her hard nipples pressing against his chest and felt his breathing increase. He smiled remembering how she climbed atop him, kneeling over him as she ground her clit above the base of his cock, bringing herself to orgasm. When she calmed from her climax, she then kneeled upright on him and turned her attention completely to him.

“Sir, could you put up your tray table? We should be landing soon.”

He glanced up, torn away from his recollections and slowly lifted up the tray table, hoping his erection was not noticeable. Locking the tray in place, he moved in his seat, again adjusting himself a bit. Turning his attentions to the sights outside the plane window, Allen drifted from the thoughts of his wife and felt he bulge in his pants subside.

Leaving the plane, he quickly walked down the long corridors to ground transportation and stepped outside to find a cab. The heat and humidity was oppressive and in the few minutes it took to load his luggage in the trunk and then climb into the cab, his shirt was damp from sweat. He didn’t cool down much in the ride to the hotel since the driver had the car very warm. Arriving at the hotel, he quickly paid the driver and stepped inside to the cool lobby.

He registered, asked about good restaurants in the area and then headed to the elevator. The ride up in the elevator was stuffy, so when he finally got to his room, his shirt felt damp again. He walked over to the thermostat, turned the fan on high and dialed the temperature down. After a quick call home, he removed his shirt, tossed it over a chair and then quickly undressed down to his jockey shorts, letting the rest of his clothes and shoes fall onto the floor.

Lying on the bed, he stretched his arms and legs out wide, letting the cool air flow over him. In a few minutes, the cool air dried the sweat off most of his body and he began to feel comfortable. Slowly moving his hands over his chest, he let his palms slide over his nipples.

Swift slight in nights

where hands are loved,
touch a sensation,

a slide of flesh, a repeated
broken rhythm

in breath chants, whispers.

Breathing harder, he gave himself to the sensations letting himself become both loved and lover as his hands circled over his hard nipples. Glancing down he saw his erection bulging in his jockey short, so he reached down, eased them over his cock and then slid them down his legs, kicking them onto the floor.

Fingers wrap
a turgid self

solitary in the thought, the act
of the impossibly possible:

the round and full untouched
yet rigid uncaressed.

Lying back he reached with his right hand and slowly wrapped his fingers around the rigid curve of his cock. Moving his other hand back up to his nipples, he teased them as he slowly began to stroke his hand over the soft skin of his shaft. Watching the head of his cock appear and disappear from his fist, he began moving his hips, thrusting up into his fist.

Emotion grasped at length
stroked, stroked…
          a gasp, liquid breath,
the moment, the moment,
the flashing light strobe moment
of fragrant air
and wet, sticky warmth.

Quickening the pace, he felt a pressure in his balls intensify as intense feelings of pleasure flowed down the length of him, as his hand moved faster. Breathing harder, pumping his hips fucking up into the incredible sensation, he felt his balls tighten and release. Lifting his ass off the bed, he groaned, lost in the pulsing waves as his cock shot the sticky white cum arching onto his stomach as his hand slowed, letting him savor each pulse and watch each spurt of sticky liquid.

Lover and loved pause
in a breathless embrace
becoming, becoming,
becoming same–
again.

Letting his cock fall away, he trailed his fingers through the warm cum pooled on his stomach, pausing a while to catch his breath and allow the sensations simply fade from him. Watching his cock recline, bobbing in unison with his heartbeat, he slowly became one again. Feeling relaxed, he cupped his hand beneath the pool of his cum and then got up and walked into the bathroom, wiping up the gooey liquid with a towel. Stepping back into the room, he felt chill in the air and walked to the thermostat, setting it to a warmer setting. Sitting back on the bed, he began to think about dinner.