This delicious audio about making you come in your pants is written and read by The Gentle Domme.
So, I have kind of a weird turn on. Do you want to hear about it? I know. I know. What does weird mean? Some people get off on sitting on balloons until they pop. Some people like getting stapled for fun. This is much quieter. And much less bloody.
And it’s not like we don’t already do plenty of kinky things. But this is something we’ve never done before.
Intrigued? I suspected you might be.
The thing is that I get turned on by the idea of making men come in their pants.
Don’t laugh. Don’t look so shy, either. I can tell when a man’s getting nervous, and that bulge in your Adam’s apple is giving you away. That bulge in your pants is too, baby.
Also, don’t stare. You don’t want to draw too much attention. Do you? Or maybe you do? This restaurant lighting might be romantic, but it’s not that dim. Not dark enough for people not to notice that tent you’re pitching if you go to the bathroom.
So, I’m just going to be honest with you. I’ve never made this fantasy happen with anyone—yet. You’d think I would have. It’s an easy fantasy to fulfil. Right? It doesn’t take any special tools or skills. I don’t need my crop or my handcuffs. All I need are my two little hands and a nice solid cock to hold between them.
But it’s not easy.
You’d be surprised. I’m thinking back, even as far back as college. You’d definitely think it would have happened then. Maybe my younger boyfriend got a little too excited during a heated make out session? Maybe he had to make an excuse and run to the bathroom to clean up? Only I don’t remember anything like that happening. I wasn’t always as… assertive as I am now, if you can believe it.
Maybe I did it through a guy’s underwear? You’d think I’d remember. I know sometimes you leak for me, and you know I love seeing that wet spot appear by the head of your cock underneath your briefs. You always get so flustered when I call you out on it, but you shouldn’t. It’s such a compliment to see just how much you want me. Then again, I do like to see you get flustered. So, you don’t have to stop.
But I don’t think so. Not even through underwear, and certainly never through pants, despite my best ministrations. I’ve gotten close, but there was never quite enough stimulation. Physical? Mental? Who can say? Maybe I’ve simply never had the right combination in the right measures.
But I really want to make it happen. Would you like to help me make my fantasy come true?
Before you say yes or no, maybe first I should tell you what it is about this that I find so hot. By the way, you’re looking a little hot, yourself. Do you need to loosen up a bit? Here. Let me help you adjust—your collar, your shirt, your belt….
There. That’s better. Isn’t it?
I think it’s the embarrassment. You know, I love the idea of making men lose control, despite their best efforts. And there’s something so juvenile and inexperienced and even a bit emasculating about forcing a man to make a mess of himself in his pants. Only a kid can’t control himself. Not a big, strong man. Not a big strong man like you.
Scooch over a little, by the way. Let me get a bit closer. We wouldn’t want anyone to overhear. Would we?
Good. Now no one will hear us if we’re quiet. Do you like my hand on your thigh? Does that feel good? You don’t have to answer. I know what you like.
It’s like when I’m fucking you. On top, of course. The way you like it. The way I like it. And it’s been a while, and I know you’re getting desperate and you really, really, really want to come but I tell you no. I give you that serious stare that makes you drip and hold your chin lightly and tell you to look right at me.
“No. You do not have permission to come,” I say.
And you respond, “Yes, ma’am,” because you are my good boy. And you like to do what you’re told. You don’t like to disobey.
And then I clamp down hard with my pussy around your cock and fuck you slowly and tightly, practically milking the come out of you, until you’re whimpering and conflicted and telling me to please stop, please slow down because you don’t think you can hold back but your body wants more, more, more.
And I say, “Of course, darling. Remember. Don’t come. You don’t have permission to come.” And I pretend to ease up, but actually I’m just holding your cock in a python’s grip and slowing down makes it worse.
And finally you can’t stop yourself, and I can see the look of disappointment mixed with enjoyment and even fear on your face and in your eyes as your body gives in, your orgasm meagerly spilling out of you, despite your best efforts. And all the while, as I’m fucking you deep and hard and getting off on your regret, I give you my best glare of displeasure and chide you. “I told you not to come.”
Oh. You didn’t know I was playing games with you? I’m so mean. Aren’t I? Give me a kiss and tell me that again. That’s what I thought. You knew. You like my games. Don’t you sweetie? I play the best games.
In fact, should we play a game now?
Or maybe I should rephrase. We should play a game now. Because you want to be my good boy. Don’t you? You want to do what you’re told.
Maybe we’ve been playing a game this whole time.
Just a thought.
I know I told you it wasn’t that dark, but that was just to scare you. I swear. Would I lie to you? We paid the check. The server isn’t coming back. No one’s going to see. Not now that I’m so close and you’re so hard. So just sit there and enjoy it while I stroke your cock through your pants. Doesn’t the pressure of my palm feel good rubbing against your shaft. And if I give your balls a gentle tug? Oh! That certainly had an effect.
Yes. You should have chosen a darker color. It’s not my fault you listened to me when I suggested the white linen. Next time you’ll have to think more carefully about your fashion choices before we go out to dinner. Won’t you? But it can’t be helped now.
Your breathing is certainly getting rougher. Such a productive boy. I can feel how hard you are for me under there. I’ll bet it’s the silky panties I had you wear. I’ll bet they feel delicious gliding over the sensitive skin. I’ll bet they even feel a little like my soft wet pussy when it’s wrapped around you.
Here. I have a little surprise. Put your hand under my skirt and feel how wet I am. That’s right. No panties. You wear the panties. Not me. Don’t you wish I would take you in the bathroom right now and let you bend me over, pull up my skirt and fuck me hard against the counter?
Keep imagining. My, you’re getting squirmy. Does my hand feel good rubbing against you? I know it does baby. Not as good as my wet, warm cunt clenched around you, but you like hearing about my wet, warm cunt. Huh? You like thinking about me letting you fuck me—really fuck me—grabbing my hips and pulling me to you so you’re so deep inside of me that you just want to burst?
Awww. I know you’re getting very excited. I can feel! I know you’re worried you’re going to make a mess. And everyone’s going to see when you get up. What would they think? That you spilled something on your pants? Or something else? But telling me to stop? That’s not what you tell your ma’am. Is it? Do you really want me to stop, baby? Because I will. But isn’t it really you who needs to just calm down and get yourself under control?
That’s what I thought.
I am certainly not speeding up. That’s obviously just your imagination. But it’s so cute how you’re leaking for me. I can feel. Can you feel? Your pants are starting to get wet. Aren’t they? I can’t almost make out the outline of your cock underneath them.
Was it all that talk about fucking me in the bathroom? My skirt hiked up with no panties, your cock deep inside me and your breath hot on my neck?
You know that was just silly talk. We both know that I’m the one who does the fucking. Right? That you just get to lie there while I use your cock. Such a lucky boy who doesn’t have to do any work or think about any little thing and keeps his mind nice and empty and his cock thick and hard and his balls nice and full.
I’m NOT squeezing harder. It only feels that way. It’s not my fault you get so excited so easily. Poor baby. I know it’s hard for you to control yourself. My, you are leaking a lot now. So much pre-cum. I think you’re going to have to let it out. I can feel you twitching underneath that fabric. You’re getting a little desperate. Hmmm? A lot? Even if you got up now, people might notice—the women especially. We pay attention to details. How would you feel if they saw that wet little stain right over your cock, your face red. You’re practically sweating just thinking about it.
This is why I know what’s best for you. Isn’t it?
I think we both know the answer to that question.
I know. I know. It looks like you might cry! Don’t cry! Or do. It’s okay to cry a little. Sometimes experiences get overwhelming or frustrating, but that doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy them. You’re so tense. Lean your head up against me. Don’t try to push my hands away, though, unless you really mean it. You’re my good boy. Right?
That’s right. “Yes, ma’am.” That pretty red on your cheeks is creeping all the way down your neck. I just want to bite you all over, you’re so delicious.
I know, baby.
I know everything.
I know you don’t know if you can stop yourself.
In fact, I know you can’t.
I know you’re going to.
I knew you were going to before my hand even touched your cock. Before we ever got to the restaurant. Before I had you put on those white linen pants. I knew the second I had the idea.
I want you to. I want you to come. I want to feel you come under my hand right here in public. I want to see the blush on your face and I want to see you bite your lip and I want to feel you jerk against me, while you nuzzle your neck into me, adoring boy. I want to feel your embarrassment as strongly as the come spurting out of that perfect, lovely cock and staining that light fabric dark.
MY perfect lovely cock.
Let go for me. Stop fighting it and just think about how good my hand feels on your shaft. Think about how I’m going to fuck you so well when we get home for being such an obedient boy, and how you’ll get rewarded by making me come all over you.
All you have to do is come for me. Here. Now.
Remember. You don’t need to know what to think, baby. I do the thinking for you.
Your cock belongs to me.
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