Copyright SETEYAN
----- IF you are offended by fetishistic sexual behaviour, or just offended in general, GO NO FURTHER, that means you!
Comments/Endings: nais@hotmail.com
When I heard her voice on the phone I knew I was in trouble.
Keith, are your parents still away?, she asked. I said yes, for two more weeks. Well I want to thank you for taking care of my plants this past weekend. Why don1t you come down to my house right now -
I cut her off, telling her I was too busy, on my way out, but she wasn1t having any of it, she insisted I come right over. Besides, she said, I want to show you something.
When she I hung up I felt like a cornered fugitive, forced to face my crime. I mean here I was home for the first week of my first summer after college, all on my own while my parents toured South America, and the first thing I had done was get myself caught as a pervert, as some sort of sexual deviant. Mrs. Drew was this forty year old neighbor of ours, she lived on her own, and I had agreed to water her plants. And while she was gone, I guess I got a little curious and poked around in her closet. I mean Mrs. Drew is not unattractive, she in fact always got me a little excited. And mostly because of the way she dresses - she almost always wears a tight sweater over her curvaceous breasts. It1s not like a sex thing with her, she just loves sweaters, like as a fashion statement. I remember when I first met her she came over to our house in this long sweater dress, and I was mes-merized. In her long white hair, and her buxom figure, she became a sort of icon to my sex-starved teenage mind. I had not given her much thought during college, having my hands full with the real thing. But when I got back home, there was a note from my constantly-traveling parents to water Mrs. Drew1s plants. So I went down there, not really thinking about her or her sweaters. But as I was watering her plants in her library, I noticed a picture of her on the desk in an especially revealing sweater, very tight, and very soft, and as I stared at the photo I thought I could see nipples embossed on the soft edge of her bosom. And then things got out of hand. I wasn1t sexually excited going over there, but suddenly I was hornier then I had been in months.
I practically ran to her bedroom, and started going through her huge, walk-in closet. I was trying to find her sweaters, and man did I find them. It seemed like that was all she owned. Sweater dresses. Sweater sets. Even pants knit from wool. And the different kinds of wool: the softest angora, the smoothest cashmere, the fluffiest mohair, and some synthetics. I don1t really know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I was naked, trying on sweater after sweater, rubbing my penis against all the different textures. By the time I came, stripping away the many layers I had put on,the room was a shambles. I tried to put it back together, but I felt so ashamed that I am sure I missed something. And when I went back the following day, instead of cleaning up my mess, I did it all over again, this time even wearing some of Mrs. Drew's lingerie.
And now she had called me. No doubt she had noticed, I mean I was careful, but not infallible. The clothes had looked rumpled when I left. I tried to think up some excuses as I guiltily marched down our street. Her house was only a block away, but set back a bit. As I slumped up the stairs, dreading what was to come, I remember thinking, I wonder what she will be wearing? Even then...
And I was not let down. She came to the door, all smiles, wearing a black knit sweater that was stretched comfortably across her bustline. And over that a cardigan of angora, fluffy grey wool. I barely noticed her skirt and pantyhose. Hopefully I snapped out of it before she saw my stares.
She thanked me again, showing me the healthy plants in her kitchen, and then ushering me into her dining room, going on about her business trip, asking me about college, my plans. At one point she stopped and asked me if my girlfriend was here in town with me, which took me back for a second. When I answered that I did not have a girlfriend she smiled real big and started all over again, dragging me by the arm into the living room, brushing against my arms with her soft, soft sweater. I felt kind of delirious, after all the anticipation, the fear, and now she seemed so friendly and carefree, I thought maybe I can relax. And then she took off her cardigan, as she stood there in the fading light, and I saw the most incredible thing: she was braless under the black knit sweater, I mean I could see everything through the weave of the sweater, breasts, nipples, everything. And she turned from side to side, telling me some sort of story, and the white glimpses of skin through her sweater was killing me. It was a very loose weave, some sort of cotton blend maybe. God, I was hypnotized. Which is why I followed her up stairs when she asked if she could show me something. By all rights I should have run right out of there.
When we got to her bedroom, I looked around guiltily. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of place. She leaned against me for an instant in the doorway, and I could feel the heat from her sweater. She was saying something about a box, and the closet, I was beginning to feel woozy, when she suddenly broke away and ran back down stairs. She said she had forgot about something she had on the stove, and then she was offering me a drink, calling up to me from the kitchen, her voice carrying clear through the house. So there I was - back at the scene of the crime. I looked nervously at the closet. A fluffy white angora dress peeked out at me conspiratorily. I heard her down in the kitchen, banging pots around, so I opened the closet door and peeked inside. There were a few I had never seen before, including a strange cashmere sweater with flaps hanging down from the front and back. I touched it tentatively, looking at the snaps on the flaps, fingering the fabric for a moment before I realized it was a bodysuit, that the sweater snapped between your legs. That got me very excited. I looked around nervously. She was right down stairs, she was sure to come up soon. I stopped in my inspection and listened. She was still cooking. Next to the bodysuit was an incredibly soft, slim turtleneck dress in red lambswool, with long sleeves. God that one was even worse. My dick hardened in my pants. Behind that was a pink angora turtleneck with what looked like a foot long neck rolled down the special hangers that Mrs. Drew used. How did she ever get so many sweaters? I let the sleeve of the pink angora touch my face, dreaming of wearing all of these - when I heard the door creak behind me.
My heart POUNDED in my head. I slowly turned and peered past the closet door. There she was - Mrs. Drew, standing there, staring at me. In one hand she held a glass of wine, and in the other a telephone.
So, she said, all my suspicions were correct. You have been playing in my closet.
I stammered a reply, somewhere between an apology and an excuse, but she just laughed at me. Oh no Keith, it's too late for that. She crossed to the closet quickly, like a cat, and stood in front of me, blocking my escape. Then she reached around me, and I could feel her sweatered breasts pushing into me. Which one do you like Keith?
Again I tried to act like I didn1t know what she was talking about, but she only moved in tighter, forcing me back into the closet. She had put down my wine somewhere but she still had the phone, and she gestured from sweater to sweater, moving some around. Which one Keith? Now I was getting scared. She pointed to a grey cashemere sweater that I remembered from the weekend. You obviously like that one, you stretched it in a few spots.
I was a deep shade of scarlet at this point. The way I see it,she said, you owe me. She pushed a little more, her soft breasts pressed hard against me. Now either I call your parents down in Peru, and I have the number, or you do some time here with me, as my little sweater slave.
I looked up astonished and noticed for the first time her flashing green eyes, and her wild mane of prematurely white hair. She looked fully aroused, like some sort of movie actress involved in a love scene. Don't play dumb Keith. I know when someone has been in my things, and from the look of it you were all over my stuff. Not just my sweaters.
She closed in on my face and whispered, I've seen you staring Keith, staring at me, so don1t act like this is the worst thing that could have happened. And then she kissed me, hard on the mouth, crushing me to her bosom. She was remarkably strong, but it would not have taken much to knock me over at that point. I kissed back after a second, and then she let me go.
She stepped back and started closing the door, locking me in. Let's get out of those clothes, just push them out of the closet, and then put on, um, this one. And she pointed to the pink angora sweater with the long neck. I started to object, and she raised the phone menacingly. If you aren't out of there in two minutes, dressed in that sweater and that sweater only, I will make the call. Imagine what your parents would think. She smiled at that, and then shut the door. It was dark in the closet, dark and soft. I felt my manhood stiffen as I undid my jeans. It was like I was in a trance. Each piece of clothing was snatched away as I pushed it out the closet door, with a soft laugh. When I was naked I had a sudden rush of fear, fear and shame, but I thought about the consequences and they were worse. So I carefully removed the sweater from the rack and and pulled it over my head. It was so soft, like fur almost, and smelled like Woolite. The sleeves were easy enough, but the neck took forever, as I eased my head through the rolled fabric. Finally my head popped out, and I rolled the rest down under my hairless chin. It felt big and bulky at my neck, but otherwise the sweater was remarkably soft and comfortable. It did not however cover my semi-hard penis, and that was the most embarasssing thing. The door opened on cue.
Ooooh, you look cute Keith. She stepped forward, pinching and smoothing the sweater. I turned as red as a cherry. She noticed. Oh are you embarassed? Everything was said in this half serious tone, like it might all be a joke. Why don't you roll the sweater up over your face, you know, the neck? And she helped me, until I was looking out through the soft pink weave of the sweater. The neck was so long it went up over the crown of my head, which I thought must look ridiculous, but at least she could not see my face. Then she started touching me, running her hands over my body, touching the sweater, and then touching my hardening cock, until I was fully aroused. She seemed to be really enjoying herself too, moaning and making these soft sighing noises. She lifted up my hands, and put them on her breasts, and I could feel her nipples stiffen through her loose sweater. She moaned again, and I joined in, all thought of shame gone now. She tore away, and crept behind my back, still runningher hands over the sweater, feeling my small little ass and my shoulders. I touched myself a few times, then reached back to feel her hard breasts again, both my hands behind my back. She moaned in encouragement, as I felt around, and then suddenly hard metal slapped around my wrists. Handcuffs. I jerked forward trying to free myself, but it was futile. By the time I thought to yell, something taut had been wrapped around my head, gagging me, forcing angora into my mouth. Incredibly Mrs. Drew was still moaning. Her strong hand shot forward and seized my stiff cock. Oh Keith, now you are mine.
She led me by the cock down her stairs, calling back cheerfully to watch my step. Down, down we went, me half-blind, gagged, and bound, and her laughing and talking the whole time. Somewhere near her living room we took a funny turn and we kept going down. I was thinking, She has a basement?, and then the first blast of air-conditioning hit me. It was cool subterranean air, sweeping up the stairs, as we kept going down, down, down. I wondered how deep we could go, and then we reached the bottom, and she said, O.K. Sit down. And I did, in a hard chair, my arms still bound behind my back. My legs were cold. Then she sat on my lap, her weight felt reassuring somehow. She undid the gag, and rolled down the sweater. I looked in her eyes and they were hard green now, like emeralds. I looked around at this weird little room, full of leather and latex, strange devices and wild costumes. It was a dungeon, even I knew enough to recognize the trappings of the BDSM scene, and that meant Mrs. Drew was a mistre-
Oh Keith, we are going to have so much fun this week, you and your sweaters, me and my toys. And with that she crushed me to her bosom again, burying my face in her sweatered breasts. I did not know when I would ever come up for air.
TO BE CONT'D?