Subdued With Sweaters
We met innocently enough. We bumped into each other now and again at the bakery/coffee shop where everyone gets coffee and baked goods for their rides to work. We’d make cracks about the weather, or one thing and another.
As the summer heat waned, I started working sweaters back into my wardrobe. She noticed and made comments. I had a thing for sweaters, and I usually wore nice ones; respectable, but natural animal fibers and well made. The cooler, the bulkier. I get a tingle wearing them. Okay, so I was a sweater fetishist. That was out of the way, anyway…
She wore sweaters, too. They were nice ones. They were sexy, but indicated a woman who liked to maintain control over herself.
She was very attractive, a little shorter than myself, a few curves, lots of dark blond hair, sweet face with a touch of the devil behind her slight smirk and twinkly eyes. She was not model-pretty, but she was pretty. She had a simmering confidence that was very sexy, and I think she knew it, and seemed to be projecting it toward me.
One chilly Saturday, I went to the bakery/coffee shop to look at the paper. I had slipped into a very bulky, oversized turtleneck, over nothing. I had a need for some bulky sweater.
There she was. I couldn't believe it. She joined me for coffee. My heart pounded. We had great conversation, lots of eye contact, and I could feel her drawing me in. We finished our coffee and treats, and ended up spending most of the rest of the morning together.
We walked at a nearby pond and smoked a little something. We talked and talked. We had lots in common. It was a total surprise that I met this captivating woman. I couldn't believe it. Eventually, we each had plans for the afternoon to which we needed to attend. It was difficult saying goodbye. We exchanged numbers and made tentative plans for later in the week. She gave me a loose hug, just enough to leave her incredibly intoxicating perfume on my person. We walked away, got in our cars and drove away, looking back at each other until we were out of sight.
She worked in the finance department of a company just outside of town. She also worked a part time job at a small television station as a video and audio editor. They were hobbies, along with photography. The part time job gave her access to equipment. She sent me links to some interesting videos she had made.
I worked for a small ad agency where I handled all matters of media. I was a musician, and I voiced some commercials and other things.
We liked the same kinds of music. We had similar spiritual beliefs, liked the same foods, and so many other things.
I sent her a text after a while, saying that I enjoyed the afternoon. She responded almost immediately, echoing my thoughts. She sent a picture that she clearly had just taken. It was her, looking right at me. It was hypnotic. She said to download it and use it on caller ID. She asked me to take a picture of myself right then, and send it to her for the same reason. I did. She texted back a beaming smiley face. I was dizzy.
We exchanged a few phone calls before our date on Thursday. We met at the restaurant after work. She looked great. She had changed into jeans before she left work, a light mohair sweater, black, and she smelled so good, her heavenly perfume which was freshly applied, combining with the scents of the day. She knew it was intoxicating to me. She had to know.
I was in my fall uniform - jeans, button down shirt, vee neck sweater, cashmere, a nice one. A splash of Bay Rum aftershave rounded it out.
She embraced me when we saw each other. While I still had my hands on her hips, she looked me in the eyes, and with sweatery sleeves over her hands, she touched each side of my face. I gasped.
She slyly smiled. “Mmm Hm.” She uttered and then giggled.
The world around was melting away.
We had the kind of conversation that people usually had on a first date. We had both been alone awhile. We talked about siblings and parents and places of origin and myriad anecdotes about all number of things. Lots of arm touching and a few thigh touches, it was sweet. We were there for two hours because we both had work in the morning. We lingered in the parking lot until it was nearly empty, and we each had to do the right thing. We had to go home. We texted a few volleys later that evening. She was becoming embedded.
Over the next couple of weeks, we had a couple more dates. We each took turns picking the other up at his and her homes. I had an apartment. She had a small bungalow not that far away. We had a few quick meet-ups for coffee, or one thing or another.
She made a few mix CD’s with music that she said I would probably like and would make me think of her when I listened. It was all very nice, was becoming very familiar.
Smooching was becoming petting, and maybe a little mutual masturbation. She seemed to know exactly what I wanted, and was not shy about offering me direction for her pleasure. I couldn't believe it.
We decided to be responsible and to be tested for STD’s, even though neither of us had had sex in a couple of years, except for various levels of masturbation. We made it an event. It was nice. It was a gesture.
Phone calls were always lively with all sorts of chatter. Sometimes, they leaned a bit to the erotic side. She usually initiated it, telling me how she was feeling, and what was happening to her body, and what she was doing to it. She wanted to hear about my body parts, and would give me direction, that got more and more intimate as time went on. I couldn't refuse her direction. She was like a witch who seemed to know exactly what got me hot.
She often times encouraged me wear sweaters and use them to pleasure myself. She just knew. She knew what sweaters did to me and she was using that fact. She often described her own masturbation with sweaters, and what fantasies she had been having, involving sweaters since we met. My throat would go dry with excitement. She would tell me that she wanted me addicted to her. It was very erotic, very exciting.
While living my work and regular lives as always, I was finding myself increasingly surrounded by a bubble of her and me. She seemed to be enhancing that effect, directing it a little. Hmm.
We finally had a sleep over at my apartment. We had been out to a restaurant, did a little shopping, went back to the apartment and put out some snacks. I had a little something to smoke, and we enjoyed it, watched a couple of funny things on TV, a little news with lively debate and then, nervously, it was time for bed.
She had a few things with her, including a toothbrush. We both brushed and went to the bedroom. By this time, she had slipped out of her pants and bra, and her breasts and curves were beautifully hugged by the slightly too big, very thick, and well-worn-soft cream colored shetland. It was long , over her hips and butt and hands. I had been lusting after her in it all night.
She opened one of two closets in my room and found it nearly floor to ceiling with neatly folded men’s sweaters of every soft wool, cashmere, mohair, alpaca, and every combination there of, imaginable. There were vee neck, turtleneck, bulky, hooded, every sort, and all of good quality. She stepped in, started feeling them and purring.
She said that now she was seeing the bigger picture. She was getting the scope of my sweater fetish. It was making her a little hot.
She was opening her own self to the idea that such things can be highly sexual. She said she was going to use them and more to make me addicted to her,
She told me to undress and I did. I just did.
She took several sweaters out and walked them over to me, brushed them on my skin, watching my body’s reaction. My hardening erection, stiffening nipples, my weak knees, dry mouth, hot flashes around my neck and forehead.
She was becoming excited herself. She liked what she was doing to me.
“So, you like me, you find me attractive and of course we have a lot in common. I like you and find you attractive and, it would seem, I might be able to use sweaters in subduing you,” She laughed a little.
She focused some sweater erotic massage on my nipples, slapping my hands down when I lifted them. She wrapped some sweater around my cock and gave it a few strokes. She kissed me, and brushed my face. There was no turning back, it would seem.
Taking my hand and walking toward my bed, she handed me a sweater, one I bought specifically to enjoy as a fetish item, a nine pound oversized turtleneck with a 12 inch neck. It was like she knew it was there. I put it on.
She sat on the bed and beckoned me to stand between her legs. She played with my cock, balls and nipples. She stroked her hands over my ass, pressing into the crack.
“Do you like that?” she asked.
“I do,” I breathed.
“Mmmm,” she hummed.
She pressed the sweater against my hole and pushed a little. I squirmed.
She giggled. “...and that?”
“Yes, please.” I responded.
She slipped her mouth over my cock and teased it. I was feeling kinda dirty but I also was kinda liking it.
“Kneel in front of me,” she commanded.
I complied. She stroked her breasts in front of me for a few minutes, telling me to just watch.
She stroked the sweater over her nipples and she squirmed, and smiled.
I could smell sex rising in her, mixed with that perfume that must have come from a witch doctor.
She exposed her lovely breasts, and tweaked at them. She guided my head to them and told me to just kiss them a little, and ramped up her aggression as we went, telling me to lick them and suck them, grabbing her breasts and pushing them into my mouth.
After a while, she seemed to cum. She held my head to her chest and shivered. She kissed my mouth, deeply. Her tongue, I was certain, entered my throat. She pushed me down further, playing with her pussy right in front of my face.
She had a pretty pussy. It was clean, neatly trimmed bush. It was glistening with pussy cum.
She pulled the enormous turtleneck up my face and folded it around it, then pressed my face deep into her pussy. She guided my head all over her dripping wet, quivering vagina for at least twenty minutes. I could tell by the tremors and gushing moisture that she was shooting out loads of cum over and over. I was nearly drowning in her copious, delicious sex juices. I could hear her screams stifled with a sweater.
The sweater all over my body, her hands all over my sweatery body, her legs around my sweatery body, locking me to her, her pulling the neck of the sweater up and rubbing it on her body.
She was primal. I was feeling nasty and dirty and aroused, knowing that she was cumming so hard on my face and loving it.
She came and came and came, until she pushed my head away, and pulled me up. We lay on the bed in a heap. She shuttered and moaned and kissed my wet, pussy-cum soaked mouth and face, pulling the extra long sweater neck over both our heads as she licked my lips and squirmed. She held me close and grounded her body against mine.
“Oh, you dirty, nasty slutty boy,” she growled. “You make me wanna scream. Oh fuck,” she moaned. “Oh fuck.”
She pulled her thick, soft shetland over her pussy and pressed it against my cock, steel-hard by now. She rocked her hips and deep, dark sounds came from somewhere within her. She reached down and spread her pussy lips and pressed my cock in again. I could feel moisture pouring through the sweater from her pussy.
The look on her face was primal, and somehow focused, and breathy, and fierce; a deep stare into my soul, communicating by sense.
“I know why you love sweaters.” she purred. “I’m cumming so much. It’s so fucking dirty, been masturbating with sweaters all week,” she breathed as she writhed and started grabbing at my cock.
“I want you to fuck me, but I won’t let you,” she teased. “Not tonight. I’m gonna drive you fucking crazy.”
She rolled me on my back and stroked my cock with sweatery hands, took it in her mouth and caressed it. The only word I could find for what she did to my cock with her tongue. She stopped and came up beside me, kissing me. She was squirming, and writhing against me.
“You’re a dirty fuck, aren't you?” she taunted. “ You love it. You love it when it’s nasty, don’t you.”
She had me in a spell.
“Yes,” I said.
“You like it when I tell you what to do, don’t you?” she cooed.
“Yes," I responded.
” You like it when I want you to do the dirtiest of things, don’t you?” she asked again.
“ Yes," I said.
“You want me and you’ll do anything to have me, am I right?” she demanded.
“Yes.” How could I have ever said 'no' in a situation like this?
“ Mmmm...good.” She said. “I’ll be good to you. You want that, right?”
“Yes," I responded.
“Mmmmm. I love the way you say yes.” she said. “Have you been listening to those CDs?”
“Yes,” I said, a little inquisitively.
She giggled. “Mmm.”
She swirled my nipple with her finger, through the sweater. She was looking right in my eyes, brushing my cheek with slightly parted lips. She knew I was getting hot, and melting. My will was draining away.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Just enjoy it. Trust me,” she said.
“I know what you want.” She pinched my nipple hard.
I jerked.
“Mmmm,” she purred. She did it again. “Do you like that?” She breathed out in my ear.
“Yes." I whimpered.
“Good.” She turned her attention to my cock and stroked it with wool.
“You make me love sweaters,” she said. “...and I love using them to make you crazy. I’ll always give you sweaters.” She said, looking into my soul, lightly kissing my lips.
“Now, roll over on your stomach," she commanded.
I hesitated.
“Just do it, sweetheart,” she cooed.
The endearment was a new touch. It was comforting and intimidating at the same time.
” Trust me,” she said.
I complied.
“Good,” she said. “Hands over your head,” she said, with a gentle forcefulness.
I complied.
“Grind your cock into the sweater," she directed.
I complied.
“Do you like it?” she queried.
“Yes," I told her.
“Do you feel dirty and free?” she wanted to know, in a taunting way.
“Yes," I groaned.
“Mmmm. Do you trust me?”she asked, condescendingly.
“Yes."
“Yes, what?” she demanded.
“Yes, I trust you.” I replied.
“Good," she said.
I could feel her hands massaging my back and shoulders, my spine. She worked her way to my lower back. It felt so good.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered.
“Yes," I moaned.
“Shall I continue?” she didn't really need my permission.
“Yes, please," I nearly begged.
“Mmm, and you have manners. Good,” she smiled.
She rolled onto my legs and started rubbing her body on mine, brushing her sweatery tits against my back, grinding her sweatery pussy against my legs, humping them, moaning, sounding nasty, saying dirty things.
“I know what you like. I know what you want. I know what will make you crazy. It makes me feel so fucking dirty to know what you want.” she gushed.
“I fingered my pussy last night thinking about something just like this.” She was controlled, but elevated.
”You’re a little slut and it makes me so fucking hot.” She moulded her hips against my ass, almost humping it. “I knew you would be.”
“Dirty slut. Do you trust me?”she asked again, with a little growl.
“Yes," I said.
My cock was like steel. I was trying to redirect my focus. I was loving this and wanted it to last.
Her hands were on my ass. She was teasing my crack through my sweater. She was pressing on the hole.
“You want this, don’t you,” she almost hissed.
“Yes," I said achingly.
I had secretly hoped for this and made sure I had a clean ass. She slid down.
“I wanna see it,” she said.
She pulled up my sweater, and spread my cheeks hard.
“Mmmm. So pretty," she teased.
I felt her lips kiss it, smooch it, slobber around a little on it.
“Do you like that?” she asked with a hint of depravity.
“Yes," I breathed out in response.
“Mmmm..." she moaned.
I felt her warm, wet tongue on my hole again. I could feel that she had a thick wad of spit that she was plastering on my hole. Her finger showed up and she swirled it around. She pressed on the hole with her finger tip.
“Open up for me, honey. Open you hole to me and let me inside you, inside your body, inside your most intimate places,,” she coaxed.
Now I really felt dirty and I wanted her to keep making me feel like the dirty slut she wanted me to be.
I relaxed my ass, I raised my hips just a little and met her finger.
“That’s it. Is this of your own free will that you give this to me?” she hotly demanded.
“Yes," I said dizzily.
“Is it mine now?” she demanded.
“Yes," was the only answer I could give.
“Good. Mmmm…” she giggled.
She pressed firmly. I felt my muscles relax and her finger slid right in. It felt so good. I heard her gasp. I gasped.
“You little slut. I feel so dirty putting my finger in you.” She sounded so dirty when she said that.
She fucked it a few strokes and I squirmed and moaned. It felt freaking wild. I surrendered.
I found myself trying to push against it all as deep as I could take it. I felt her other finger and I twitched as I felt it stretch wide open.
“Oh, you really do like it. This is making me so hot. I’m cumming again fucking your ass…" she rasped.
I was dizzy. There was nothing else beyond the space that she and I occupied. She melted it all away. I was completely compliant and she was getting off like a geyser over it. She stopped suddenly and pulled her two fingers out quick and sharp.
I shuddered.
She cooed. “Mmmmm... I like doing this to you. I was never like this before,” she sounded like she surprised herself.
“Do you like it?” she sounded nasty.
Oh, yes," I whined
“What did you like?” she demanded.
“I liked having you inside my body," I was separated from my senses.
“Mmmm...you really liked it, and I really liked it.. This could be dangerous for you," she told me, and giggled.
“Are you afraid?” she seethed.
“A little," I admitted.
“Mmmm...good. I want you a little afraid. Want me to stop?” she said, knowing what my answer would be.
“No. Please don’t stop," I pleaded.
She pulled my sweater over my ass.
“Do you want to feel me putting some sweater inside your body?” she loomed over me, a little evil in her voice.
“Yes," I begged.
“Yes, what?” she teased.
“I want to feel you putting sweater inside my body.” My heart was pounding as I said it.
By now, she was playing with my hole through the sweater, teasing it, pressing on it.
“Are you going to resist me?” she asked, incredulously.
“No," I whimpered.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I trust you and you want to do it and it seems to make you very aroused when you are controlling my ass I like it.” I whimpered.
“Where, inside your body?”she oozed.
“M-my most private place, my anus," I stuttered.
“Are you my little sweater slut whore?” she demanded.
“Yes," I told her.
“Good, Your hole was so wide open after I finger fucked it. I love it.” She said. “It’s mine, now. You gave it to me. Don’t forget that.”
I could feel the pressure of her finger slowly pressing and pushing sweater into my ass hole. I couldn't believe. It was sweater fetishist’s dream, I was writhing and moaning and trying not to cum. She was loving it. She was pushing it in and pushing it in, more and more. I could feel the sweater deep in my ass, starting to fill me, soft, the texture of the wool, the fact that it was so fucking dirty, and against my ass as she pressed it into me.
“Take it. I love doing this to you. I control you at this moment, sweetheart.” She was masturbating while she did.
She came with one hand, sweater-finger-fucked me with the other. “I want you addicted to me,” she demanded.
After she came again, she came up next to me, right hand in my stretched out sweater-filled hole. Her left hand slid under me. She found my rock hard cock. She wrapped it in sweater, wrapped her hand around it.
“Fuck my hand” she whispered. "That’s it. Fuck it, long and slow. I love that you feel so good doing what I tell you.”
I was dizzy. I was on another plane of existence. I slowly fucked her hand, like she told me, rocking against her fingers and all that sweater in my ass hole. I could feel her fingers find my prostate. I fucked. I took it as long as I could.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can cum if you want. Tell me when you’re going to cum," she whispered.
It was building and building and building, I shuddered. She knew I was trying to make it last as long as I possibly could. I strained to hold back. She giggled. I couldn't take it anymore. She pressed her sweater covered fingers sharply deeper into my hole. I exploded. Hot streams of cum shot out of me. I could feel the sweater on the head of my cock as it twitched and as the cum tore out the head.
“Oh, yes, honey. That’s it. Shoot all that cum, honey," she coaxed.
I was spent. I convulsed. I twitched. I groaned and howled, until I finally collapsed in a heap. I could feel her fingers slip out of my ass, but she must have left a half a yard of sweater deep in my bowels and I loved it so fucking much. I knew there would never be anything I could deny her.
She rolled me on my back.
“Mmmm...let’s see,” she said.
She rolled the sweater back off my still firm cock. There must have been a quart of cum in it.
“Mmmm.” she dipped her fingers in it and licked it.
She spread some on her lips and my face. “Sluts get cum on their faces sometimes,” she giggled.
She leaned over and slurped up some, looking at me all the while. She showed me her tongue and I watched her swallow. I could feel her hand reach down below. She started to tug on the sweater crammed inside my body. It was a little startling.
She took that moment of surprise to put her mouth on mine for a very wet kiss. I could taste cum on her mouth. She kissed me deeply, scraping her tongue against my teeth, building up spit and letting it flow into my mouth, like she was hinting at cum kissing.
I could feel the crazy sensation of the sweater slipping out of my hole. It was the strangest. Most dizzying, most sexually arousing and satisfying sex I ever had. She got what she wanted. She had me addicted to her.
She cuddled up next to me. All of a sudden, she was a little kitten, snuggling in and wanting my arms wrapped around her. We slept until morning, in sweaters, snuggled, spent and on a heightened spiritual plane.