That White Corset
During the Great Argument Era of The Fireman and I, the most ridiculous things would start fights… then the most ridiculous things would fix them again. One argument, for example, was about laundry. He hadn’t done it when I’d asked him to, so I’d run out of clean undies to wear to work.
“Maybe if you didn’t steal so many pairs of my dirty pants, I’d have some to fucking wear!” I screamed at him, frustrated and now running very late.
“You LOVE that,” he shouted back. “We’ll go get you some new fucking pants, OKAY?”
“Well, that’s very helpful when I’m running late for work, isn’t it?” I decided to go commando, mostly to piss him off, then stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind me.
We argued about the lack of laundry and clean pants for the entire rest of the week. He’d ask me if I wanted a cup of tea, and I’d reply with something along the lines of, “No, but I would like some clean underwear.”
Who doesn’t love a bit of passive aggression?
The weekend came around, and he woke me up on Saturday morning with a cup of tea.
“Morning,” he said. “Drink this. We’re getting you some new underwear.”
I had to stifle a giggle and pretend that I was still mad at him. It was his way of apologising, I guess.
An hour and twenty-three minutes later (exactly, according to him,) we left the house and headed for the closest shopping centre. We should’ve gone into the women’s clothing store… but we didn’t. Instead, we got sidetracked by a lingerie shop that had just opened up.
“A quick look,” he said. “It is underwear, after all.”
I tutted but agreed, so we walked in and took a look around. He went left. I went right. Standard. I grabbed up the new underwear I needed, then went over to see what he was staring at. A white corset, apparently.
“You like white?” I asked. It seemed a little late to ask questions like that after everything we’d done in bed. I also wondered why we’d never asked each other these questions before.
“I love white,” he said, running his fingers along a pair of white, lace-topped stockings. “It’s so… innocent.” His mouth pulled into a barely-there smirk as his eyes flashed with ideas.
I flicked through the corsets on their hangers, looking for my size. “Want me to try it on?” I grinned.
“Fuck, yes,” he said, his eyes widening.
I did just that, slipping behind the curtain of the changing room, holding the white corset like it was the most precious thing in the world. It took me a while to get to grips with the hook-and-eye fastenings that ran down the front, and once I’d done it up, I could barely breathe, but… wow. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and barely recognised my own figure. Where had that hourglass come from?!
I peered around the curtain, pssst-ing loudly to get Fireman’s attention. Then, I checked around to make sure no one was looking, then quickly flashed him.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, his mouth now as wide as his eyes were.
“Now?” I asked, winking.
Sadly, the one shop assistant came back into view, so I went back behind the curtain and removed the corset. I’d never intended to buy it, only try it on. I couldn’t get his face out of my mind, though. He looked so… hungry for me. I needed to buy it just to see that face again.
It seemed that he’d had the same idea as I redressed in my own clothes. He was stood, wallet out, waiting for me, and he pointed towards the till when we finally caught each other’s gaze.
“No, let me get it,” I said, reaching into my bag.
“No.” His voice was stern, forceful. It told me not to mess with him, so I admitted defeat.
“Fine,” I leaned closer and whispered into his ear. “But I’m gonna pay you back so damn good.”
Arousal pooled in my underwear as we paid for the corset – plus matching French panties, garter belt, and those lace-topped stockings. I’m sure he had the stirrings of an erection straining in his jeans, too. He kept shifting from one foot to the other, which always gave the game away.
The journey home felt endless. Neither of us spoke. We exchanged a handful of glances, but for the most part we didn’t dare look at each other in fear of not making it home.
Once we finally made it through the front door, he made us both coffees. I sat at the kitchen table, wondering why he hadn’t yet torn off my clothes. Were we roleplaying? I was never the biggest fan of that. Was he waiting for something? Was I meant to do something?
I didn’t ask.
He didn’t say.
We drank our coffees, making small talk. Plans for dinner. That party at the weekend. One of us needs to get milk tomorrow. All the while that white corset was niggling away at the back of my mind.
Had he changed his mind about the corset? Did he want me to wear it on another night? Why weren’t we fucking yet?! What was happening? It was like the past couple of hours hadn’t happened.
It wasn’t until after dinnertime that night, that he mentioned the corset. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since we left the store,” I confessed right back. “Why are we waiting?”
“Just because,” he replied simply.
I knew better than to argue with him at that point, so I just nodded and smiled, waiting for his direction. Eventually, after a little more chit-chat, he took my hand and guided me upstairs.
“Sit down.” He pointed to the bed.
I sat and waited, anxiously fiddling with my fingers. For once, I genuinely didn’t have a clue what he was planning or thinking. I had no idea what he was about to suggest, or do. It made me nervous, and I hadn’t felt nervous about doing anything with him for a long time.
Fireman rummaged around with his back to me for a moment, then turned to face me with the newly bought items in his hand. I thought he was going to hand them to me to put on, but he beckoned for me to stand up again instead.
I did as I was told, my knees trembling just a little. He moved my arms above my head, then lifted up my t-shirt. Next, he fumbled with the buttons and zipper of my jeans, sliding them down and tapping each leg for me to step out of them. I almost giggled when he removed my socks, tickling the soles of my feet when he did, but he had such a serious look on his face that I swallowed it down as best I could.
I still didn’t quite understand what was going on, but I went with it. I wasn’t even sure that he’d have heard me if I asked; he was so engrossed in my body – specifically, slowly, and carefully removing each item of clothing that covered it.
My bra was the only remaining item, and I prepared myself to fiddle with the fastenings. He’d never been particularly adept at undoing them. Today, though he’d managed it just fine, even letting himself smile proudly.
Only when I was completely naked did he turn to the white French briefs, holding them on the floor for me to step into. He slid them slowly up my legs, his fingertips lingering on my skin, then tapping the lace once they were finally in place.
The garter belt came next, in much the same fashion, then came the corset. He wrapped the boned lace-covered satin around my body, pulling it tight.
“Is that okay?” he checked in, and I nodded in response.
He fastened the hook-and-eyes on the front first, before turning his attention to the ribbon ties at the back. Each loop was pulled tight, then he checked in with me, then pulled a little bit tighter. By the time he was done, my breasts had never looked so damn enticing. And huge.
Pushing my shoulders lightly so I lowered back onto the bed, Fireman fell to his knees and unfurled the white stockings. He gripped each ankle, then slid a stocking on each leg – slowly, torturously, centimetre by centimetre, stopping every now and then to plant a kiss.
He might’ve been putting clothes on rather than taking them off, but it was one of the most erotic moments of my life. By the time he’d finished, then stood back to admire me, I was practically dripping with hunger for him.
Pulling me to the edge of the bed he pushed my knees apart and pushed a tendril of hair away from my face.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and I can remember the way he said it to this day.
His eyes roved across my body, up and down, then left to right. They were usually the brightest, clearest blue, but they seemed so much darker. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel the intensity of his stare. It seemed to scorch straight through my skin and into my soul.
Dragging his fingers along the inside of my thighs, he pushed the white lace of the French panties to the side. It made me jump, and goosebumps erupted across my skin. I wondered if he was going to fuck me, but he slid his fingers around my cunt instead, smearing my wetness and searching for my clit.
He knew when he’d found it because I gasped loudly, so he focused on that spot, using two fingers to circle around my bud and occasionally sliding them inside me. His other hand felt its way around my body, feeling the delicate lace features of the corset. It restricted my movements a lot, and almost cut off my breathing if I attempted to move. It was a little like being bound, like the time with That Grey Tie. Maybe that’s why he liked it so much?
I gripped his bicep hard as he circled and finger-fucked me. The harder I gripped, the closer I was to coming, and he knew that. He used it to his advantage, too. I hadn’t noticed that he’d unzipped his jeans and yanked them down along with his boxers, so I wasn’t prepared in the slightest when he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock.
It evoked another gasp from me, and a carnal grunt from him. I’d always loved the little noises he’d made. I reckon he could’ve played a CD of just those noises, and I’d have wanked happily for the rest of my life.
Our eyes locked as he fucked me, one finger still shoved between us and nudging away at my clit.
No, he didn’t fuck me: he made love to me. It was soft and sweet yet passionate and frenzied, but it was definitely making love.
I nudged closer to the edge of the bed to get closer to him, desperate to feel as much of him against me as we could manage. We kissed and gazed and held each other close as I came first, gushing all over his fingers. My tensing and clenching cunt drew out his climax just a few seconds later.
Fireman collapsed to the floor when he’d finished unloading inside me. After a minute or so, I half-slid, half-fell to the floor beside him.
Interestingly, it took us longer to remove the corset (et all) than it had putting it on.
Even more interestingly, I never wore that white corset again.
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: That Fucking Pager.
Thank you so much for reading my little blog today! 🖤
You can read all about The Fireman, from start to finish, right here.
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