The White Shirt
Arriving after dress rehearsals, Drew stood at the door, for our final scene. Did he know? As I inhaled the sangria and sweat emanating from his body, I couldn’t help myself. Two fisted, I grabbed him by the white shirt and pulled him to me. The touch was all it took.
“Be in character, English accent and all.” Those were the only words I could manage.
I stared up into his eyes. There was heat, and I knew he craved me. I observed him, searching for the change and then the character emerged.
“Who are you?”
“What’s happening, William?”
“The battle. I will most likely die; this is our last chance to be together.”
The shirt had never let me down.
I first experienced the shirt with Drew after his opening night performance at the theater. Congratulating him on his effort, I shook his hand, and the material of the shirt glanced off my skin. At that moment, it happened. A synergy occurred between the shirt and me. Visions, sights, and sounds of another place and period ran through my mind. The shirt not only transported me but it introduced me to a character through the wearer.
Drew and I attempted a relationship, but I found that he couldn’t handle two roles with me. Did he realize it was the character in the shirt I craved? Had he figured out I used him for my pleasure?
Now, in the present, gripping both arms, William towered over me. The shirt had taken over. “Yes, but if it’s the last triste what shall you remember, sir?”
“This, Bria.” He picked me up and moving swiftly to my bedroom, threw me face forward on the mattress. He snatched my dress up baring my panties. His flowing, cotton shirt rubbed my back. He slapped my ass. Oh yes, the sting. I felt his urgency. This man searched for the last pleasure he might know. His teeth sunk into my skin and marked his final attempt of desire.
“Get your rump to the end of the bed.”
I scurried there.
“Hands behind your back. Chest down. Ass up.”
In position, I teetered on the edge of the bed. William leaned over me pressing into my back. I felt the girth of the erection along with the weight of our last encounter. The buttons on the shirt dug into my skin; they too marked me like his teeth.
His breath was hot and wet in my ear. “This pleasure is for me, Bria.”
What is it about accents? Transported to another place with unknown rules, it excited me. What would he do? How would he do it?
With his hands on my derriere, he dropped my panties to my knees. His eager fingers probed my cunt. The cadence of his breathing changed while he pulled on my vulva lips, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. Pain and pleasure stirred inside me like a potion mixing in my body. Two fingers moved up through my slit and bathed in my essence. He grazed my clit and ignored the space that longed to be filled. His groan nearly filled it.
“Open your eyes.” Blinking, I saw his erection poised and ready. “Lift up. I want your lips wrapped around me.” I maneuvered to all fours, and he grabbed my head. I opened my mouth.
“In the end, Bria. I need to feel desire.” His voice had dropped at least an octave, primal and raw.
I had barely steadied myself when he thrust his penis in my mouth. I tasted desperation and desire and met it with fury and passion. The shirt’s billowy material fanned my face as I went down on him. Upon moving up, the lightweight fabric ballooned out. It was like a cape giving me directions. With its white color, it signaled my surrender. Yes, take me. He grabbed my hair, stopping my motion.
“Not like this.”
“Wait, William. Will you mark me first?” My eyes pleaded as I called to his darker side. I would beg if I had to. “I want your cum on me. Mark me.”
“Sit on the edge of the bed.” He pulled the shirt off over his head. “I may not control death’s timing, but I can control this.” Using the shirt’s sleeves to bind my arms behind me, it caused my shoulders to pull back, and my breasts jut forward. The shirt’s magic attached itself to me. My hardened nipples pressed against my outfit and he noted the response.
“Naked nipples, you strumpet.” He shoved his fingers into the neckline of my dress and squeezed my breast. I gasped as heat ignited in me. Yanking the bodice past both my shoulders and breasts, I laid bare to him.
“You want to be marked?” He sucked hard on one nipple and then the other. He slapped my breast, and I came alive. While stroking his cock with one hand, he bit my breast. Using his other hand, he twisted and pulled on my nipples matching his effort on his cock. This connection to passion was overpowering. When his mouth clamped on my nipple and then let go, I knew he was coming. I opened my mouth hoping to catch all I could. He spurted over my face and my breasts. Our panting filled the room.
I felt Drew beginning to slip out of character. I had to keep him there to experience it all.
“Sir, you are not finished. Smear yourself on my pussy and then do what you will.”
His nostrils flared. He dragged his palm across my face collecting his essence. I sucked quickly on his thumb as it crossed my mouth. He pinched my nipple and then wiped across my breasts, holding a handful of natural lubricant.
“You are mine.” After his bellow, I rolled on my side and then faced down. The shirt’s sleeves provided an anchor of stability and a promise of more. I witnessed a new behavior for Drew as William, and I wanted it like I had never wanted anything else from him. Scooting backward to the edge of the bed, I wiggled my bottom.
“Take me, please. I am begging you.”
His big body pressed against my buttocks, and his fingers were wetting me with his come. Testing my resolve, he teased my asshole. I whimpered. He rubbed his erection in the space between my cheeks before he inserted a finger, moving in and out, slowly.
“Yes, you are mine.”
Holding the shirt material, I locked into and secured myself to this fantasy of a man from somewhere else. I pushed back to meet him as he pressed inside me. “AAAhhh, yes.” My utterance spurred him on. He pulled my hips back with both hands. I felt his cock, hot, at my entrance. “Take me,” I growled.
He entered me with a grunt.
“More; I can take it.”
Those words sent him over the edge. He had no restraint as he plunged inside me over and over. I held tight to my wrists and the shirt binding. His body curved into mine, pumping. He found my clit and pinched it. Fire ran hot through me. With my face smashed into the bed, the material abraded me. His pounding took me to new places in my mind. I screamed incoherent syllables, and he shouted something, and then we were a jumble of flesh on the bed. His ragged breathing hit my ear. “Let me untie your arms.” Once he had freed me, he rubbed my shoulders and wrists. I was full and complete.
The shirt remained trapped between us. Lucky for me, it captured the event, absorbed our body’s oils, sweat, and sex scent. It was my talisman, my friend.
Drew left with no fanfare even though I had used him, in more ways than one. As he exited, I made it clear I was keeping my white charm.
Now I held the treasure that provided a portal to another place, and another fantasy, to use whenever I wished. Curiosity and desire make passionate and risky bedfellows. I wondered what power it would give me as I slipped the shirt on.
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