When I received the email with your dare I’ll admit I wasn’t surprised. It seems you are on a bit of tear with getting women to lose their panties all over town. I loved the idea of it, from the moment I read the message I started scheming.
I decided not to tell my husband about the plot. He knew that the dare existed, but that was it. By mutual agreement we decided that I would let him know what was asked only once we were on the point of making it happen.
We had a whole afternoon in front of us with no plans, and decided to go out for a late lunch and then seen where the day took us. I asked D to select my underwear and clothes. I wasn’t surprised by his choices, but I was a bit worried. You see, he chose my brand new crotchless spiderweb-backed panties that I hadn’t even worn yet. I really didn’t want to lose those. Furtively I tucked another pair in my bag--the pair I’d brought specifically for this dare.
We headed to lunch and I’d hoped we’d have a little more privacy than we did, but we were seated in the middle of the room. Since we couldn’t really have too much PDA, instead we got each other wet by talking about the very indecent things we’d done the last several nights. They included rather public fucking in a sex club, where this happened. And the next night my ass was spanked and flogged until it was ruby red. Nearly a week later I still had the bruises. Our indecent conversation in a very posh place had us well on the way to getting in trouble.
After lunch the sun was shining, so I proposed we head to the giant ferris wheel. The day was clear, the view was good, and I was ready for my dare. Before we left I headed to the ladies’ room and changed my panties.
As we waited in line I began to get worried. There was clearly no way I’d be able to leave the panties behind. Each car was inspected for left articles as soon as the party exited it, so there would be little question who left them behind. On top of that, there were more than two people per car. So, more difficulty. I pondered.
As we approached the entrance I whispered to D that we had a dare. I felt him get hard. I started to tell him that it involved pulling down my panties. Immediately he asked if the dare was to slip his fingers in my pussy. *Lightbulb* That was a great fucking idea since the assigned dare became impossible. But could we pull it off? Should we? All of a sudden my occasional fetish for exhibitionism felt incredibly scary.
We entered the ride and found a spot against a window. D stood behind me while I tried to figure out how best to shimmy my panties down a bit without being seen. Fortunately we were wearing coats. With him blocking from behind, I hitched up my dress a little bit so I could slip a fingertip in and slide one side down just a bit. I repeated the move on the other side, and the edge of my panties dipped below my pussy.
We carried on a conversation as though nothing was happening, oohing and aahing at the view with our fellow travelers. D wrapped his arms around my waist so it looked as though we were just holding each other as we rode. But one hand slipped inside my coat, and I held the edges closed. My skirt was short and there wasn’t far to go to slip his hand underneath it and his fingers between my lips. Wet. Oh so very wet.
We probably should have stopped there. We’d succeeded. But you know we didn’t. D’s fingers slowly circled my clit for what felt like ages. Occasionally he’d slip inside, gather a little more wetness, and come back up to stroke. Several times he brought me to the brink, only to back off. And still we carried on conversations with each other and our co-riders. Finally I felt the twitches begin and pressed my forehead to the window as a small orgasm washed through me. I struggled to keep quiet. He didn’t stop. A few minutes later the real deal hit, and he started talking about something he saw in the view to cover my nearly silent whimpers. Then he slid my dress down and backed away.
When the ride was over we exited just like everyone else, but we smiled at each other, knowing the filthy secret we shared. And then D had a flash of brilliance: as we left I should drop the panties in the tip jar/box of a street performer. Whatever fear I’d had earlier had clearly evaporated, but now it was back with a vengeance. My heart started pounding so hard. I could feel it in my throat.
Back to the ladies’ room and again I changed my panties, making sure the ones I was going to lose were well-marked with the wetness from my orgasm. We began our walk and D scouted the street performers and finally chose the right ones: two young musicians seated behind their open guitar case. I’m sure I looked like a fool, but I skipped over to them and with one hand dropped two coins in the case and with the other shoved my panties into the corner. The lid blocked their view. And then I ran.
Half a block away I was overtaken with laughter. We wondered when the guys would find them and what they would do with them.
So it didn’t work out quite the way you dared, but I did go home without those panties.