Conquer the Obsession


Steve had an obsession and had to get it out of his system. He knew that. Before it was too late. At his age, he couldn’t keep living with this obsession. Sometimes, over the years, he’d felt guilty and ashamed to be so obsessed. At other times, he’d felt elated and excited because he also felt unique and privileged to have such an imagination. But, more than anything else, he felt frustrated.

And now Steve was determined to work his way through the obsession, and the excitement, and the frustration. And rid himself of the guilt, he hoped. He’d got together all he needed. His collection of “items” over many years was now ready for “application” if only he could find the right “subject” for his “experiment.” These are the words Steve used to himself although, really, he thought of the process with more romance and gentleness than they suggested.


At the age of 18, nearly 40 years earlier, he’d been seduced by an older woman; well, she was 27. And Steve remembers every detail of the seduction. Especially, he remembers her undressing and her underwear. To be honest, he has no memory of her figure; not her breasts or legs or bottom. He just remembers being intrigued by the sight and the feel of her underwear: girdle, stockings and bra. She’d left them on while she undressed him and kissed all over his face, pressing her tongue into his mouth and clutching at his penis and his testicles as soon as she had them free from his clothes.

His hands had wandered over her girdled figure. He’d felt the firm band of her bra as it circled her ribs; and he’d weighed her breasts in his hands, feeling at the taut support and the stitching of the bra cups. Then he’d let his hands fall to her waist and he marvelled at the tightness of the girdle with its bones, and the zipper over her left hip. His right hand had dropped further to rest on the flatness of her stomach under two wide bones and the rigid stitched panel. His left hand had fallen to her right thigh and he’d entwined a finger round the suspender as it held up the nylon stocking. He’d noticed as a passing thought that her panties were gone already, or perhaps she hadn’t had any at the start.

And so his exploration had as his excitement rose — literally, as his erection gained hardness, which she noticed.

He’d made love for the first time with this “older woman” dressed in her underwear. And revelled in the sensations coming through his hands and his skin as he lay on her she moved around, as well as the new feelings coming through his groin. She’d showed him movements and some simple positions he’d never thought of. Of course, he’d reached his climax too soon; before he’d wanted, and probably before she wanted, too. But Steve hadn’t known that. Only that the totality of his sensations had been overwhelming and he’d clung to her afterwards, feeling again the tightness and the construction of her corsetry. He’d felt the bones in their pockets up the length of the girdle, and the tautness over her stomach and her bottom, and the stretch in the suspenders. And as he did, his erection had revived and he’d clung to her as he plunged into her again and again.

Steve had been oblivious to her pleasure but she’d known that and accepted it from the boy-virgin in her arms. She did wonder, though, at his continuous massaging of her body through her underwear; and at his insistence that she leave them in place for his first sex with a woman. But she’d liked the young man and the rigidity of his erection, so they met more times. She’d taught him more tricks to become a better lover, to please her as she wished; and always Steve wanted her in her corsetry. Eventually they’d parted, of course. Steve had gone on to try his new skills with other girls and women, and she to explore other young men, virgins if possible, to calm her raging sex-drive.

After that, he’d sought out women who reminded him of his initiation. That meant women who wore firm underwear: girdles, corsets, bras, stockings. He knew from the start that he would always want and need the closeness of women’s corsetry for him to achieve his orgasm. For a lifetime, his sexual requirements had remained the same. At one time, he got married; mainly because the girl had worn stockings and a girdle at each of their meetings. It was 1968, Steve liked her very much, she was free and easy in her affection and her love, and she wore a girdle. What more could he want? Nothing. They’d got married but, almost immediately, within a few days, she announced that she was giving up the girdle and stockings. Henceforth she would wear nylon tights or pantyhose. Imagine, if you can, his disappointment and his sudden loss of desire for his wife. And his guilt from the knowledge that he’d loved her underwear more than her for herself. Steve became impotent and their marriage was doomed. Sure enough, within a short time they’d divorced and he expected to remain single for the rest of his life.


Now, all these decades later, walking along ulus escort Tottenham Court Road in London, his attention was caught by one of the many “escort postcards” wedged into the phone booths and bus-stops. Of course, Westminster Council removed them every day but this was 08.00 in the morning and they were all still in place. This one showed a poor-quality picture of a woman dressed in stockings, suspender-belt and bra. And the main headline said, “Whatever you want — WHATEVER.” He ripped the card out of the booth and carried around in his inside pocket for the rest of the day. In the evening, he settled down and called the number, to speak to Julia, it turned out.

“Will you wear whatever I bring for you?” he’d asked.

“My dear, I’ll do anything that doesn’t leave a mark or cause me injury,” Julia had replied, “I’ll wear anything you want me to.”

“What size of clothes do you wear, if you don’t mind me asking,” he was nervous and didn’t really know how to ask this.

“I’m a size 12, dear, with D-cup. Does that help?” she’d offered, “Oh, and by the way, don’t be offended, but no kissing on the mouth. OK? We can be as close as you like but we’re not in love. OK?”

Steve agreed and a meeting was fixed for the following evening.

He made his preparations. Size 12 he interpreted to be bust 36D in her case judging from the poor photo he had, waist about 30 inches, and hips about 38 inches. And so he spent the next day looking through his extensive collection of clothes until he found what he wanted:

– a 36D longline bra in white; underwired and also boned at the sides and front; 12 hooks at the back; cuff waist; ignorantly described by the vendor as a “corset-bra” he remembered;

– A highline open-bottom girdle, white with hooks and zip fastener on the left hip; size 28 inches. “Small but I want her nice and snug — well contained,” he thought to himself;

– A new pair of Elbeo support stockings, strength-3, for a woman of 5ft2inches to 5ft4inches; if they were a little too short, then so much the better to keep the tension in the suspenders and the girdle.

Steve went with his selection, as agreed, to Berners Hotel, Bloomsbury, and he got there is good time — about 2.30 pm. He relaxed, ordered a room service sandwich and drink, and a bottle of champagne to be chilled for the rest of the afternoon. On the big king-size bed, he laid out his selected clothing and covered them with a big fluffy bath square from the en-suite. An envelope, with her money, he left on the cupboard near the door.

At 5.30 pm, dead on time, Julia was announced from Reception and she came to the room a few minutes later. She was a professional. You couldn’t tell from her appearance or her clothes that she was a “working girl” although the hotel Reception probably knew her anyway. As he let her in, she leaned upwards and kissed Steve gently on the cheek. And she quickly cast a glance at the envelope on the cupboard.

He put his hands on her hips and held her briefly; maybe for five seconds; and then they went through into the room. By a quick guess, she was 5ft3inches in height. “Perfect,” he thought.

“How do you want me?” she asked and then provided an answer, “Naked and clean, yes?”

“That would be nice,” Steve replied, and she went to the bathroom.

While she was in there, Steve undressed and was pleased to see his erection building already. Not his full strength yet, but sticking up and showing his potential. By the time Julia returned he was ready for action and thinking of his words to use to get her into the corsetry.

“Woooh, nice,” she said and pointed with a nod of her head in the direction of his erection, without moving a hand, and smiling broadly straight into his eyes.

She dropped all her clothes on a chair, moved across to him and took hold of his stiffened penis and kissed his cheek again. Steve was in good shape for a man of his age; not overweight, just slightly stooped, almost bald but with short beard “to compensate” he always thought. His strong point of appearance had always been his broad chest and narrow hips; so he had all his life looked V-shaped without any efforts at body-building or keep-fit.

Steve took hold of her in a gentle embrace and felt at her skin, and her figure. She was smooth and had good shape. He was gauging her measurements against his collection of clothes that she would be wearing soon. He kissed her hair as she leaned on him, and moved towards the bed. He was keen to get his obsession under control; but before they could move even one step she took his free hand and placed it on her pubic mound. He stopped dead in his track and let her guide his hand as she pressed close to him again.

He felt down and under her lips, into her vaginal tunnel. Julia was wet and he was just a little surprised; this woman was actually excited. It raised his own excitement, and his erection jerked by itself. She mewed yenimahalle escort like a kitten as he pressed his hand onto her and his middle finger explored her wet lips. And then that moment passed; and they moved towards the bed.

“Please please me a little; now,” she looked into his face and then turned her back on him and kneeled on the bed. She looked down on her luscious bottom and saw everything there as she spread her legs a little. He noticed also that she was moist, around both her labia and also over her anus. She was ready for whatever he wanted to give her. She wiggled her hips a little, as if to entice him but he didn’t need that.

Steve moved to her, took hold of her hips and pressed his erection into her vagina. She was slick but tight and he moved easily in and out of her for a few moments. To be honest, he wanted this to end soon for two reasons. First, so that his erection will remain firm; second, he wanted to get on with the corsetry.

“Ooh, nice. Don’t stop, please,” she must have read his thoughts, so he continued.

This woman was a professional in more ways than one. She knew how to take her own pleasures in some of the most unappealing situations. But this was a very pleasing situation. She reached down with one hand and rubbed her clitoris, and came quickly.

“Aaah, oh yes,” she sighed and relaxed, flopping forward onto the towel, and leaving him standing there with his erection glistening with her juices.

Little did she realise that she was lying on the pile of corsetry in which he planned to install he as soon as possible. She took a deep breath and turned over to face him. He was smiling

“Time to dress you. Yes?” he asked in a soft voice.

She didn’t reply but waggled her head a little from side to side; indicating agreement, he thought, as she lifted herself from the bed.

First lifting the big towel from the pile of clothing, he picked up the long bra and turned toward Julia. She turned her back on him as he reached round to place the shoulder straps over her arms. Between them, in silence, they lifted the bra into place and she held her own breasts into the cups. Steve fastened the hooks, slowly because it was not accustomed work for his fingers, starting at the top. Gradually it settled into her waist with the bottom hooks fastened.

She turned to face him and he was pleased with the effect. She felt at her own torso and smoothed her hands over her breasts and up to her shoulders. She was pleased as well.

Steve leaned over and lifted up the girdle and moved towards her.

“Steve, this is the wrong way. The bra should go outside the girdle,” she said in a knowledgeable way but not in any way bossy.

“Oh, yes. You’re right. Sorry,” he replied and moved round her to undo the hooks. He felt stupid and clumsy, and the hooks took longer to undo than they had taken to fix in the first place. But soon the bra was off her and she stood there again naked.

Steve knelt down with the girdle in both hands, and held it open for her right foot. She stepped into it and they repeated the movement for the left foot. Then the effort and cleverness started.

Steve slowly lifted the girdle into place on her lower legs, with the front panel facing towards himself and the open zipper on her left side. He raised the girdle until it caught around her knees and he realised the problem he’d created by bringing a size too small. The girdle would not move further up her legs although he tried holding back-and-front then side-to-side. No; it would not move for him.

“Hold the front and lift,” he said to Julia, “and I will go behind you.”

He did this and took hold of the girdle over the rear bones, as she did at the front.

“Now!” he said and they lifted together.

Slowly, millimetre by millimetre, the girdle moved up her thighs. Steve realised how good it was that this woman had perfectly smooth skin; obviously epilated.

“It’s too small,” Julia spoke, as the girdle seemed to stick at half-way on her thighs.

“It will fit. Pull again with me,” Steve replied.

After many small movements, the girdle was at the right height on her hips. It just tucked under bottom at the back and was stretch taut across her mound at the front. It was really, and seemed impossibly, stretched but Steve was not going to be denied the experience of this woman “properly” dressed for him. He knelt down at her left side and took hold of the row of hooks alongside the zipper.

Slowly, one at a time, and with great effort, Steve hooked up the side of the girdle until he could slide the zipper upwards, and finish the closure. The top edge was just under her breasts and squeezing her ribs.

It had taken a long time and his erection was drooping with the effort and the kneeling. He stood up and faced her.

Julia was wide-eyed and breathing through her mouth.

“It’s very tight,” she gasped, “I tunalı escort don’t think I’ll be able to move much.”

“I’ll do the moving,” his voice was strong and positive because he knew how the evening was going to be. Now that he’d seen her partly dressed. And his erection was building again.

Reaching to the bed, he took the stockings and slowly fed them up her legs, to fasten them to the three suspenders on each leg. Everything was definitely tight. Ferociously tight on her.

“Now the bra,” he lifted it outwards her again and she helped him, as before.

Soon, standing before him, Julia was totally encased in the corsetry. Tight. Breathing carefully and holding her own waist. Then she moved her hands down to the sides of her hips, and then the front over her belly. She was judging the tension in the fabric and wondering at the pressure on her skin and on her organs. But she noticed also a smooth warmness between her legs and was aware of a rising excitement in her groin. This was a set of sensations she’d not had before and she was intrigued.

Steve stood behind her and turned her to face the long mirror on the wardrobe door. He ran his hands round her waist and forced her arms out of the way, as she watched his movements in the mirror. He held her breasts through the firm bra, and remembered his first time so many years earlier. He squeezed the bra slightly and then ran his hands down over the front bones, and onto the cuff waist. There he felt around her waist and felt the added tension that the bra gave over the girdle. Pressing with fingers and thumbs of both hands, he could feel the compression of her waist and was pleased with what he felt. All the while, she was quiet and looked through the mirror to watch his hands and look into his eyes.

He returned his hands to her waist, and felt with his fingers down the long wide bones again until he reached the bottom edge. Reaching a little further, he put both of his forefingers into her creases, and then down to press gently on her clitoris. Julia mewed again and lifted her head with her eyes closed, until she rested it against his chest, under his chin. Steve knew at that moment, that he’d found a willing companion for his later pleasure.

“Now,” he spoke to her, and moved her towards the bed. She walked touching him all the way, with him feeling the hard metal hook-back fastening of the bra against his torso, and his hands on her tight-contained hips.

He pressed her forward onto the edge of the bed, with her hands supporting herself as she presented her bottom for him. Of course, the girdle tucked under her rear, and certainly covered her anus in this position.

Steve took hold of her hips again and presented his erection under the girdle-edge, and felt around. He could feel the slipperiness of her labia, and pushed a little more until the head of his penis slid into position. He couldn’t see anything because of the girdle but he felt her body giving way before his tool. And so he entered her and he knew what he was going to do. After all, he had to finish this obsession once and for all time.

He moved into her. And slowly out. Then more quickly — more urgently; quicker and quicker in and out. Until he was shaking her body around in his hands, balancing on her knees as she was. He moved his hands onto the well-contained waist and ploughed back and forth into her. He wanted to shag that girdle until his obsession was conquered.

He took hold of the back suspenders; then of the back straps on her bra; then tucked his fingers under sides of the girdle where it contained her hips like a tight belt. He found his favourite hold — fingers tucked under the bottom edge of the girdle and his thumbs pressing on the bones that ran down the back, inside their satin covers. He could feel the tightness, and the smoothness and the hardness. And the tension in the back suspenders as they thumped into his own thighs as he moved in and out or Julia. In his imagination, the buttons on the suspenders were gouging holes into his thighs. And he plunged and plunged into her luscious hole, pleased at her wetness and at his own stamina.

Steve decided to change their position and gain different sensations from her. Pulling out, he moved to one side and made her lie down. He brought a pillow from the bed-head and placed it behind her head. Then he started to enjoy the corsetry again.

He kneeled across her legs and placed his hands on her breasts, inside the bra. Slowly and deliberately, pushing and pulling, he moved his hands down her body: feeling again at the tautness and the bones. He ran his fingers down the zipper and onto the front suspenders, and across Julia’s thighs, to feel the stocking tops. He wanted every millimetre and every pressure-point of those clothes in his head. He wanted to know the feeling of his erection inside that corsetry, and to know every stitch of it through his hands.

Moving from her, he pushed her legs apart and lifted her knees, so that he could kneel into her. He entered her with her ankles near his shoulders. Then he leaned forward until her ankles were near his ears.

Placing his full weight on her legs, he bent her double and started thrusting into her with all his strength. She had been silent until now but his treatment was causing her discomfort.

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