Reginald taught home economics at a local high school. At first I thought he might be somewhat...uh...I thought that...he...uh...might not like girls.
I usually grabbed something at Dippin' Donuts on the way to my eight o'clock class and sat on a stool next to Reginald a couple times. He drank coffee and looked over papers while I wolfed down jelly and crиme-filled donuts.
"You know, miss, you shouldn't eat that stuff," he chastised politely.
"Yeah, well, it keeps me going until lunch."
The days of chatting for ten minutes each morning turned into weeks. He watched me devour rolls with holes as I crammed for a quiz or finished up an assignment. All the while he talked about food and recipes.
"Don't you like donuts?" I inquired once as he stared disapprovingly at me.
"I like fuzzy donuts."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What do you eat for lunch and dinner?" he asked as he observed me inhale four donuts in less than two minutes, two maple glazed, one cinnamon, and one butter pecan.
"I go to Subway. It's good, so I don't have to be." I winked playfully. Somehow I couldn't get him in a cheerleading outfit, dancing and shaking pom-poms, out of my mind.
"Do you like chicken?" he inquired.
"Yeah. Occasionally I pick up a twenty-pack of nuggets at McDonalds."
He frowned seriously. "Oh, you like chicken, do you? I make a mean chicken scallopini piccata: breasts pounded flat and sauteed in butter and served with a balsamic-lemon-caper sauce. Roasted new potatoes drizzled with my special garlic and anchovy gravy. The earthiness of the garlic contrasts very nicely with the tartness of the lemon and balsamic vinegar. Bellisimo!"
"Sounds really good!" It did.
"Well, would you like to join me for dinner one evening, Sarah?"
At first I said I didn't think so. I mean, he is older, and didn't really seem to be my type. The fact that I am four inches taller than him, without heels, concerned me. And he's balding. Not that I don't think some bald men are very sexy. But he persisted, and finally after several more weeks of his asking, I gave in. I do like good food, although I can't cook, unless you can do it in five minutes in the microwave. But I can eat, oh, I can eat, and the cuisine at the college cafeteria left much to be desired. I agreed to lunch on a Sunday afternoon, not dinner.
* * *
I showed up about noon on that Sunday afternoon, right after church.
Reginald had a lovely home. The pink frilly lace curtains made the place look rather...uh...feminine. Very plush wall-to-wall white carpeting. He requested I take off my shoes.
"Let me show you where I perform my magic," he insisted.
"I didn't know you were a magician. You don't saw girls in two, and that kind of stuff, do you?" He had kind of a strange look about him. I'm not saying serial-killer strange, but a little weird. Call it intuition.
Reginald took me to his kitchen and proudly presented the rich dark-green ubatuba granite countertops, custom maple cabinetry with black accents, professional-grade Thermador range, apron front sink, Sub-Zero refrigerator, and ceramic backsplash with matching stainless accents. He pointed to the warming drawer on top of the range. "This is great for holding food warm for more than an hour."
"What's for lunch?" I blurted, my stomach growling.
He led me to the dining room, pulled out my chair, and I sat. Soon he set a plate in front of me, and he joined me. I said grace silently and took a bite.
"This is good!" I complimented. "What is it?"
"Well, since you like chicken, and this is lunch not dinner, I just made a nice little chicken salad."
"How did you make it? I can't really tell it's chicken."
"Take an egg yolk and whisk in the marinated artichoke hearts, just a little at a time. The yolk emulsifies the oil in the marinade and you end up with a very flavorful mayonnaise. Add a third-head of pressed garlic and a little freshly ground white pepper. Poach four chicken breasts and cut them into small cubes. Add artichoke bottoms, hearts of palm, and a couple tablespoons of capers. Then julienne red bell peppers to give it a bit of color. Mix it all up thoroughly."
"Voila! Tres yummy. I hope you have a goodly supply of mouthwash on hand."
"Why? Did you plan on getting up close and personal?"
"Uh...no, but do you think I could have a little more?" I requested, after quickly cleaning off my plate. He gave me a second helping.
We discussed a variety of subjects as we ate, but the conversation seemed to come back to either food, or me.
"You have such lovely red hair, Sarah."
"Thank you, Reginald." I didn't know what to say to him in return.
"My, but you're tall, Sarah. Of course, one doesn't notice when you're sitting down."
"Uh...yeah. But you can't get implants or plastic surgery for tallness." I didn't know what else to say. I'm not that tall. I couldn't say to him, "My, but you're short." So I said, "Actually, I fret over my skinny legs, knobby knees, and big feet more than my height."
"You have lovely legs, Sarah." He had sat at the table across from me. Now he looked under the table. "Yes indeed, exquisite legs." I spread them a little, why I don't know. He couldn't possibly see that far up my skirt. I don't wear panties to church. It kind of gives me a little thrill and makes me feel naughty. But I'm nice.
After we finished lunch he suggested we go into the den and watch television or something.
"What would you like to watch?" he asked.
"The football game starts in a few minutes."
He put on some cooking channel on cable.
"I know some rather famous chefs quite well," he bragged. "Joachim Koerper at the Girasol restaurant, Moraira, Spain. Todd English, creator of Olives restaurant in Charlestown, Massachusetts. And of course, Wolfgang Puck."
"Really? That's nice."
I got bored and got on the floor and started to do crunches.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm exercising. Got to work it off, you know."
"Oh. There are better ways to burn calories, my dear."
"Like what?" I hoped he wasn't going to get fresh with me.
"Jogging."
"Oh. I jog. Half the time I have to run to class."
"Would you like to do it with me?"
Uh oh, I thought. Here it comes, he's going to hit on me. "Uh...do what, Reginald?"
"Jog."
"Oh. Well, okay. But not now. I'm not dressed properly. You know, the shoes and stuff."
"Maybe some other time."
"Yeah, maybe. You know, I better go now. I have to study for two exams tomorrow." He really bored me now. I started to yawn. There just wasn't anything about him that made him appealing. Other than he could really cook. "Thank you so much for lunch, Reginald."
* * *
We continued our morning brief chats at Dippin' Donuts. On Friday he proposed another "date."
"Sarah, would you like to come over to my place for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Well...I...I...don't know...uh...I..."
"I'm preparing salmon roulade, stuffed with lobster, crab, and morels, baked in puff pastry and served with a wild mushroom and cognac cream sauce. On the side, some caramelized pearl onions and baby carrots with baby zucchini and fresh dill tossed in at the end."
I think I began to drool. "Well...I...don't know...I..."
"Salmon is extremely high in omega-3 and omega-6, EFAs that reduce inflammation in the body."
"What are EFAs?"
"Essential fatty acids. Inflammation causes cells to clog pores, leading to very bad things like acne and wrinkles."
"Well, I don't have acne, just a few freckles, but I certainly don't want wrinkles!"
"A salmon a day keeps Neutrogena anti-wrinkle cream away!"
"Okay, I guess I could come for dinner."
"Now, you've already agreed, Sarah, so you can't back out now, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"No matter what I say, you'll still come?"
"Within reason, Reginald. What do you want to say?"
"Promise you'll still come?"
"Okay, okay, I promise I'll come."
"Would you please wear panties?"
"Oh my God! I didn't think you could see? Oh...oh..." I know my face turned five shades of red. I jumped up. "I have to run off to class. I'm so embarrassed!"
"Don't be, Sarah. Now you're still coming tomorrow night? It wouldn't be right if you stood me up. You promised to come."
"Yes, I did promise to come. I'll be there." I hurried off.
* * *
I dressed for dinner in a Planet Funk pleated sleeveless satin top with a ribbon belt, not bothering with a bra, and a Chanpaul brocade skirt with tulle. I wore my suede ballet shoes, not wanting to look any more taller than him than I had to.
Reginald greeted me at the door. He wore a tuxedo.
"You are extraordinarily beautiful, my dear." He handed me the white, pink, and yellow roses arranged with some babies breath in an antique-looking vase.
"Thank you."
Reginald led me to the dining room once more. He had placed dinner on the table in covered dishes, and served me. In addition to what he had promised, a trio of crepes: chicken and fresh peaches with a veloute sauce, escargot with lots of garlic and butter, and shrimp with fresh ginger and scallion and a ginger hollandaise.
I ate and ate and ate. Reginald just mostly watched me, not saying much, and just toying with the food on his plate.
"This is just incredibly delicious, Reginald!"
"Sarah?"
"Yes, Reginald?"
"Did you wear panties?"
"Yes, Reginald, I did." I'm sure I blushed, not as bad as before, but I could feel the flush.
"Would you take them off?"
"Uh...what?"
"I want to wear them."
"Huh?"
Reginald started to cry.
"Oh, Sarah, I have this incredible obsession," he sobbed miserably. "I just can't help it."
I gobbled down more shrimp, finishing it. "Do you have any more shrimp?" I asked.
He went to the kitchen. "Try these coconut shrimp. I made them last night."
"My goodness they're big!" I dipped one into the sweet sauce and swallowed it quickly. "So, tell me about your obsession, Reginald. You can talk to me. We're friends. I mean, we talk almost every day. I don't talk to my parents that much."
"I like to wear girl's panties. I like to sniff them. I like to lick them." He started to wail like a wounded banshee.
I ran over and put my arm around him. "Reginald, Reginald, it's okay." I took a handful of the coconut shrimp and munched them while I consoled him. "Everybody has something they obsess over. Why, look at me and the donuts."
"I have something special for you, Sarah." He perked up.
"You do?"
"Yes, my lovely one." He got up from the table and went into the kitchen. Two minutes later he came back with his arms full. "Do you like banana bundt cake?"
"Oh yeah!"
"How about rose geranium pound cake?"
"Oh yeah!"
"And then we have chocolate mousse cake. Ten quarter-inch layers of light, not too sweet chocolate cake separated by quarter-inch layers of mousse made with Michel Cluizel Chocolat Grand Amer. Frosted, of course, with more mousse. Puree some raspberries and guava, set with a little gelatin, and onto the mousse in a swirl design, and then top it off with chocolate shavings."
"No! I mean yes!"
"Here." he placed the three cakes before me.
Before long I began to feel stuffed, as I sat in the chair, and slouched, feeling my bloated stomach. "Oh, darn it, I ate to much," I complained. "Uh, Reginald, I think I have to use the bathroom."
"What for?"
"What do you mean 'what for?' dude? What do you usually use the bathroom for? I already took a shower today."
"Do you really think I'm a dude?"
"Sure you are. Now, where is the bathroom? You better tell me, like real quick, or you'll be needing a pooper scooper."
"Would you leave your panties with me while your gone--for safekeeping?"
I couldn't wait much longer. "Turn your head!" I screamed as I squirmed." He did.
"What's taking so long?" he asked.
"Geez, hang on, dude, this isn't as easy as you might think." Finally I got them off and held them in my hand. "Okay, you can open your eyes." He did. "You want these?" I shook them in his face. He nodded enthusiastically. "Where is the bathroom?"
"Right up the stairs, second door on your left."
I slammed the panties down on the table in front of him and took off running.
Ten minutes later I returned to the table. Reginald had the panties tied around his neck and sniffed the crotch with a look of ecstasy on his face.
He's hopeless, I thought, so I tried not to pay him much mind.
I sat back down at the table and finished the cake, all three of them.
"Sarah?"
"What now, Reginald?"
"I like your panties."
"Yes, so do I."
"I see they are Fruit of the Loom Fit For Me. You like the brief style, as opposed to hi-cut or bikini."
"Yes, I do, Reginald."
"And white. I figured you for white. Do you have any Hipster Body by Victoria seamless stretch panties? Imported Tactel micro denier nylon/Lycra Spandex. Perhaps in teal, muslim, or glacial blue?"
"Uh...no."
"I'll buy you some. My treat."
"Well...uh...I think I have plenty of panties. If you want to buy me something, get me some groceries."
"You said you'd come tonight, Sarah."
"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"
"No, I mean you said you'd come."
"What are you talking about! You're starting to tick me off!" I glared at him menacingly. "I think I'm going to leave. Uh...do you have any leftovers I can take with me?"
"Sarah, please don't be angry with me. Please don't run off. I just want to watch you masturbate. In your panties. Then I want to keep them."
"You got to be kidding!"
"No, I'm not. I am obsessed. I'm such a pervert. I can't help it! I'm addicted to panties. That's all I think about: panties, panties, and more panties." He cried so mournfully he had me shedding a few tears.
I went over to him again and tried to calm him down. "Okay, okay, I'll masturbate. It's not like I don't want to anyway. I mean, all this wonderful food really turns me on."
"It does?"
"Well, yeah. Put your hand here." I put his hand under my skirt and helped him touch it. "Am I wet?"
"Yes, Sarah, you are."
"That's because you didn't have any toilet paper in the bathroom!" I shouted, throwing up my hands in total exasperation.
"Sarah, it wouldn't be right if you ate and ran, now would it? You did enjoy the food, didn't you? Did I tell you about my recipe for..."
"Okay, Reginald, okay, enough already." Talk about making me feel guilty. Yes, Reginald, had an obsession with panties and such. But I had an obsession also--with food. "What exactly is it you want? Just speak plainly. Let's get to the crux of the matter."
"I want you to masturbate in your panties, Sarah. And then I want to keep them."
"So you said. That's it?"
"Uh...well...uh..."
"C'mon, Reginald, spit it out."
"I want you to use a cucumber and squash." He produced the vegetables--a big cucumber, and a much smaller yellow squash.
"Don't you have zucchini?" I asked, a little self-conscious. "That cucumber is quite the big fella."
"The cucumber is for your...uh...pussy...and...uh...I'd like you to stick the squash up your cute little bum."
"I see. Well, I guess it wouldn't be fair if I ate and ran. Maybe..."
"Oh, please Sarah! Please!"
"There's going to be several conditions. That's all I'm going to do--masturbate. Don't be asking for sex. One more thing. I want you to come to my dorm on Monday and prepare dinner for all the girls." I knew what that would get me. Emily would be doing my laundry and I'd be driving Jessica's car. Amanda would lend me her $650 Hollywould faux-croc over-the knee flat boots and designer clothes, and on and on and on. The other girls were just as disgusted with the cafeteria food as me.
"Uh...I won't ask for sex, but do you mind if I masturbate while I watch you? And I'd just love to cook dinner for your friends on Monday."
"Reginald, if you insist on masturbating, then you have to come over and cook on Tuesday, also."
"No problem!"
Dang, I thought, I'll own Jessica's car.
"Well, give me back the panties if you want me to masturbate in them." He did. I slipped them back on. I didn't bother with the pantyhose.
"Can I see your breasts?"
"I suppose," I muttered, lowering the straps on my satin top.
"Oh my God!" he blurted.
"What?"
"They are lovely!"
"Thank you, Reginald. I kind of like them myself," I purred, as I began to tease my nipples. "Let's see, now how am I going to do this I wonder? Let's go in the living room. I noticed you have a recliner."
I sat in the recliner and adjusted it to the right position. I lifted my skirt. Reginald pulled up a foot stool so he could get a good view. I slipped the panties down a bit.
"I love that little patch of red hair!"
"Thank you, Reginald. I keep it neatly trimmed. I mean, I wouldn't want you to get a face full of bush when you eat me."
"Huh?"
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." I giggled. "I said no sex. All you get to do is watch."
"I'm satisfied with that." He pulled out his cock, and began to stroke it.
"You know, you do have a big one." Finally, I found something to compliment him about, other than his cooking.
"Thank you, Sarah. I wish I could put it inside you instead of the cucumber, and make you scream with pleasure."
"You're welcome, Reginald, but no thank you. Cucumbers don't get you pregnant."
I spread my legs. His eyes looked like they might bulge out his head. "You have seen one of these before, right? A pussy?"
"Well, yeah, sure. Why, two years ago..."
"Okay, I believe you." I placed my thumb and forefinger around my clit and rolled it gently between my fingers. Rolling, rolling, rolling. Putting on this little show for Reginald was beginning to turn me on. That and my fingers. I picked up the pace gradually. "Ohh...ohh...ahh..." I moaned as I got close.
"Is that good for you, Sarah," Reginald asked, somewhat shakily, as he stroked himself harder and faster.
"Oh yeah, real good." I pulled my pussy lips back out of the way with my left hand so my clit was totally exposed, and used the index of my right hand to tap on it softly. "Oh...yeah...oh yeah...oh God...I...ohh...ahh..."
Suddenly my lips quivered. My legs shuddered. I pushed my thighs together with my fingers inside me as my body trembled spasmodically. "Oh my...I'm...it's...ahh..." Reginald groaned as he busted a nut in his hand, and the cum squirted and oozed.
After a few minutes I picked up the cucumber and squash. "Once I get off the first time, I can go again real quick." I wet the middle finger of my left hand with pussy juice and inserted it in my back door. Then I replaced the finger with the squash. The cucumber went in my pussy. I rubbed it against my already swollen clit. In and out, in and out.
"Oh, baby, fuck me, fuck me!" I cried, as I fantasized about my lover. No, definitely not Reginald. "Oh yeah, baby, give it to me good, so good." I closed my eyes, imagining my lover's big cock filling me up. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" The cucumber did, until I climaxed in convulsions with the big pickle-to-be rammed all the way up inside me.
After catching my breath, I removed the cucumber and squash and handed them to Reginald. "Here's your veggies back," I cooed. "I hope they had fun!"
"Yes, I'm sure they did. Don't they look happy? Why, they're smiling."
I slipped the panties off and gave them to him. "A little damp." Actually, they were soaked.
"So good, indeed," Reginald said, with a huge grin, "as he licked the cucumber and squash and sniffed my panties.
I began to slip off my skirt and satin top.
"What are you doing, Sarah? I thought you said no sex."
"I have my jogging stuff in the bag." I fetched the Maxx New York leather satchel Amanda had lent me. It would be mine soon. I slipped on the jogging shorts, sweatshirt, and shoes. "I'm going to run. Back to the dorm. Would you bring my bag on Monday?"
"Sure. I'm going to eat now." He took a big bite of the cucumber as he played with his cock, which had become hard again. "I wonder how much flavor the squash will lose if I cook it? See you soon!"
"Yes, you will, Chef Reginald." I laughed. Panties on his head, chomping on a cucumber, while choking his chicken. I took the small backpack from my bag and filled it with coconut shrimp and other delicacies, and started to leave.
"Thanks for coming, Sarah!" he called out as I left.
"My pleasure!" I called back.
* * *
Reginald comes to the dorm every night these days and prepares dinner. And he has lots of panties. The girls gave him all their old ones because they soon needed a bigger size. Funny thing, though, it's really difficult to find a single cucumber or squash in the supermarket. Must have had a run on them. That or a draught. But every girl in the dorm seems to be quite wet, especially at dinner time.
Author: sarahhh
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