Poison — It’s Just One Little Pill. Part 1.
By: Fiona Dobson
Tags: LGBTQ, Crossdressing, Erotica For Women, Erotica, Nonbinary

The soft sensation of nylon against my skin is almost the perfect form of foreplay. Pulling on the nylon stockings, and smoothing them up my leg, unhurried and luxuriously, before a date is always enough to make me wet.

Perhaps, it’s a response to my desire for something to happen or maybe it’s just a learned response. After all, most times I go out dressed in this manner, I get what I’m looking for. So, it’s only a matter of time before my body, hungry for the lecherous and desperate touch of a lover, is served to my satisfaction. You’ll note that I said ‘my satisfaction’. I point this out as I do like to play a little game.

It’s been about five years now that I’ve followed a rather particular dating practice. I usually use one of the more popular apps, Tinder of some such, and there I will select a — now what should I call them — a project. Yes. I select a project. You know, if you go to some of the apps you can even find me. Of course, I’m not going to make that too easy for you, as I really don’t want to give away all my secrets.

My project is more often than not a purely, random person. They will have contacted me — my profile is attractive enough I assure you — and through the long list of wannabe lovers, I will select a person suitable to be my project. I am bisexual, and if I were looking for a genuine relationship, I dare say, I might well choose a woman, but these last several years have been devoted to my own little game.

I select my ‘project’ and I study their profile. Then, I simply reach out to them, presenting them with all they could possibly want in a lover, and see just how far they will go. Only there’s a little catch. I never actually allow them to feel the satisfaction of physical release. No, instead I allow them to please me, and in fact I insist that they do, but even in the most frenetic of passionate grappling, I am sure to bring things to a halt before their seed is spilled, to use a nice horticultural expression.

Now, you might think to yourself, why would anyone put time and trouble and effort into dating someone who is such a game player? The answer is really quite simple. It’s because I don’t tell them that they are in a game. Instead, they think they are almost there, try so very hard to find that heavenly release, only to be disappointed. Of course, they don’t realize I have engineered things this way. It always appears so very accidental. But this is the interesting part. After this happens, they invariably try a little harder. They take me somewhere beautiful or bring some gift. But they always try harder.

A date or two and they all think they have a pass directly into my lovely silk panties. Their desire grows stronger, and I must say I am not above fueling it. The accidentally exposed panties as I drop my car keys in the parking lot, or the carelessly undone button as I lean over the coffee table. I watch their eyes fall on my body, and see their hunger grow. Eventually they may get to satisfy me, as you’ll see there are a great many ways I can control that. But as for their own release; something will always come up. Or rather it won’t.

You are asking yourself why I would do this. I know, it must seem a little cruel. Well, in pharmacy research we use animals to test drugs. We study them to better understand them. We derive insights from their subsequent behavior. I am doing nothing less.

I have given myself over to researching how men behave, though just for the next few years. Eventually I will tire of this study, but for now it does amuse me and I am learning a great deal. And it should be said, that in my latest explorations I feel I am breaking new ground as you will see.

Before I tell you more about that though, I will introduce myself a little more fully. My name is Jerry and I am 38. I have one grown up son who I had when I was 18, and who is now at university on the other side of the country. He’s a fine young man and a credit to me. I raised him alone, and his father has no clue he exists. Long story. Long and very tough story.

I am an executive at a research company working on pharmaceutical research into the treatment of depression and a few other ailments. My particular specialization is the documentation of the research process. It’s highly detailed work and many people find it very boring. I feel the work is of great value and I find great satisfaction in the careful collection and presentation of data. As you can tell, I like my job. It can be a little solitary, but I have no problem with that.

Outside of the laboratory, though, my life is not as sterile as my white coat and surgical gloves may lead you to believe. In fact for the last four years I have found myself more than adequately serviced. My secret is not to be too attached to each project, to take it as far as I choose, enjoying it along the way, and then to very precisely and clinically terminate the project. I am practiced at this, having had at least 20 subjects in the last four years.

Most of my projects reveal a rather curious thing. Generally the men who chase after me are hopelessly insecure. I do find that both curious and amusing. They all want to be the best. They try to be the best, and when they fail, they try harder. Usually I end it after about a couple of months, just to see how far I can bring them along. You’d think they’d quit sooner, but I guess they feel they have something to prove and so they stick around looking for some hope that they can be to me what I so obviously am to them. The object of sexual immersion. The person that will deliver them that highest of highs.

And all the time they are entirely unaware, it’s all just a game to me.

I’ll post the second part of this story tomorrow. Be sure to give me the clap if you like it. Ooops — did I just say that?

Jerry