I may or may not have read a lot of Mr. Smith related fanfiction after I’d finished the books, but I’d never seen the movies.
I wondered if my Mr. Smith knew about the books. Maybe he’d chosen the screenname based on it? Or maybe not. Smith was a pretty common surname after all.
“We’re going to watch this.” Taylor hit play and chucked the remote onto the cushions between us.
“Seriously?” I said with a chuckle. “You want to watch this?”
“It’s good!” Taylor said, and I snorted. “You laugh, but it’s really not as bad as everyone says, and the guy who plays Mr. Smith is unbelievably fucking hot. Like, fuck me, even I’d bottom for him.”
“This I’ve gotta see,” I said, trying not to cough as laughter bubbled up in my throat.
“Don’t act so fucking high and mighty. I know you read the books! They’re on your bookshelf. I know you tried to hide them, but they’re there!”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“I saw them, genius! Unlike you, I’m not ashamed of my reading choices.”
“Wait, you actually read them too?” I asked, ignoring the screen and the shot of the London skyline that opened the film.
“Of course! I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They’re pretty tame to be honest, but still they helped me figure a few things out.” Taylor’s voice was quiet, and there was a pensive look on his face. “I know they’re not the greatest, but they made me realise that I was more like Mr. Smith than I thought… they’re part of the reason I figured out what I like in bed. Well, partly them. Partly the copious amounts of BDSM porn I watched afterwards.”
I snorted, my laughter dissolving into a coughing fit that had me clutching at my chest and taking tiny sips of the drink Taylor handed me.
“Laugh it up,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “How did you discover you liked panties?” My face dropped and it felt like I’d been punched in the ribs. I couldn’t tell him the actual answer, could I? I’d never told Taylor about my blog because, at first, I hadn’t been sure about how he’d react.
But now that I knew he was a fan of my ass in panties, there wasn’t really a good reason not to tell him. Taylor had never expressed any animosity towards sex-bloggers and he wasn’t really possessive. Besides, we weren’t actually dating, so his thoughts shouldn’t affect me at all.
A small part of me whispered that Taylor would like it. That he’d think it was sexy as fuck, and that he’d want to watch me take photos. Fuck, that idea was hot. It had started to become something of a reoccurring fantasy. Taylor watching me dress up, helping me choose what to model, taking photos of me and getting more and more riled up at the sight of me bent over and showing off my ass until he ended the shoot by eating my ass and fucking me, pulling my panties to the side and just taking me until we were both covered in cum and fucked out. And maybe afterwards he’d take a photo of me all spread out and sated in my ruined panties, just so everyone would know who I belonged to.
God, I wanted that so much.
But it was only going to happen if I told him.
I opened my mouth, hoping my tongue and brain would solve the problem of what I was going to say for me. “The internet,” was all that came out. I sighed. “I, um, I’ve always had a fascination with them but a couple of years ago I found some blogs of guys in panties, and I was hooked. And eventually I managed to order some for myself. That was it really, but the blogs were a big help.”
“Pornblr?” Taylor asked.
“Y-yeah.” I felt my face heating, and I knew I was turning scarlet, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to tear my gaze away from Taylor’s.
“It’s a fucking gift, that website. I love it. Do you still use it?”
“Sometimes.” It was technically not a complete lie. I had been using it a little less lately. Mostly because I was struggling to find the time to take and edit new photos. If it was a choice between doing that or fucking around with Taylor, I’d always choose option B. Taylor made me feel special, and I couldn’t get enough of that feeling. It was everything I’d ever wanted.
“You know there’s a blogger on there I think you’d like,” Taylor said. “I mean, if you’re into panty blogs you probably already follow him, but I think you’d love his stuff. His name’s Thick Boy in Lace.”
Taylor’s words landed, but it took me a moment or two to process them. When it did, my brain dissolved into mush and my internal organs melted down as my entire body screamed ‘mayday, mayday’. Panic flooded my system, my fight or flight instincts kicking solidly into run away mode, and the bowl of pasta I’d just consumed felt like it was suddenly about to make a reappearance across the living room floor.
Taylor hadn’t stopped talking though, and my brain was struggling to process the rest of what he’d said. “He’s absolutely gorgeous. I mean, his ass is to die for. It’s almost as good as yours. And he has the most amazing collection of lingerie. Plus, his pictures are fucking stunning. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve spent a lot of time looking at his pics, and I think you’d like his stuff.”
“T-thanks,” I said, the words stumbling out of my mouth. “I’ll check him out.”
Taylor nodded, clearly satisfied with my
