Sweet Soumise is an adventurous young woman living in Paris. She wrote in asking for a monthly dare, and here’s her response to her most recent experiment from Mr. X.
Dear Mr. X,
It’s always interesting, planning for these dares. Sometimes I’d like to be completely spontaneous, and leap into whichever challenge is lying just under the surface that particular month whenever the moment strikes me, but of course that’s not always possible. There was a nice bit of spontaneity today, however….
In true Parisian form, I went about my day in black. I wore a somewhat tight-fitting black dress with buttons down the torso, which outlined my shape nicely. The bottom half of the dress was a bit swingier, with a belt in matching fabric around my waist. Because the weather had gotten colder again (it always seems to do this when I have a dare waiting for me that involves little to no underwear!), I wore boots. The boots are a sort of periwinkle blue, lace up to the knee, and are quite eye-catching. They certainly helped me feel far more clothed than I actually was, considering that beneath all of this I was only wearing a tiny little G-string that had come with some lingerie I bought ages ago. Usually I find these things rather useless, but this one served its purpose today!
The plan was to meet a friend for lunch in an area I never go. She picked the location, as she had an appointment nearby afterwards, which is how I found myself in the fifth arrondissement on a Thursday afternoon. We had a great chat over lunch, and I completely forgot about my little assignment until it was time for her to go to her appointment. Then I was on my own, and I strolled around the neighborhood as I tried to figure out how I was going to go about this.
I walked back in the direction of the metro and passed what looked like a park. I went up to the gate for a closer look, and as I walked in I realized I was stepping into the past. Now, this is not an uncommon occurrence when wandering around Paris, but this was a much further past than I’d bargained for. I’d come across the Arènes de Lutèce, which are essentially Roman ruins in the middle of Paris. A large amphitheater that was used as a theater, circus, and sporting arena spread out between the trees and buildings. I could even see the old animal cages below the bleachers. A few men were playing pétanque in part of the arena, and some teenagers were sitting in the bleachers, but other than that, it was fairly quiet.
I made my way into the arena, looked around, and then walked back towards the trees. It was more covered here, and I thought I’d found my place for the dare. I was a bit nervous, but I felt comforted by the fact that the place wasn’t exactly bustling. Then I remembered that I was supposed to do this along an actual street. So, before I could think too hard about it, I went out again, along rue Monge, and started playing with the thin waistband of the G-string. I was trying to loosen it, but not having much success. Finally I reached under my dress, caught hold of the waistband, and pulled it down roughly. The sidewalk was empty and I wanted it to stay that way! Thankfully, my underwear finally slipped down…only to get caught on the tops of my boots. Then it fell all the way down, just as you’d hoped, Mr. X, and I was in the process of detangling myself from the ridiculous mess when I heard footsteps.
A man appeared, a somewhat older gentleman, slowly walking his dog. I had my underwear in my hand, and was embarrassed by the whole situation! I avoided his eyes and made sure my hand clutching the G-string was next to the wall beside me, hidden. I felt relieved as he passed me, but then a couple of younger guys walked by, and I actually made eye contact with one of them. I automatically said, “Bonjour,” and he said the same to me, and then I had to look away because I was involuntarily smiling and blushing! He turned the corner and I walked towards the nearby garbage, but couldn’t bring myself to really throw my underwear away. Instead, I gently placed it on top of the bin. I thought I’d feel silly in this moment, but instead a powerful feeling swept through me. What I was doing was so bold, so unlike me, I felt a real sense of adventure. I often overthink things, and this was a great challenge to do the opposite.
Just before I turned around, Mr. X, I thought of what you’d written: “Of course in my mind, I’ll be watching from across the street….” I pictured a man, intended to be you, standing across the (very small) street, and I had a smile on my face, but again, not like before. Instead of being embarrassed, I was amused. I was excited at the thought of you watching me, of my actions in turn exciting you. I began to get wet, and I imagined you noticing that as well. I walked back towards the gate with a tingling sensation between my legs.
I circled the arena through the trees, ever-aware of the openness I felt beneath my dress. That sense of power took hold of me again. I enjoy being alone, but now I started to wish that I was meeting someone here, perhaps the photographer from months ago, or maybe the man I was recently seeing. I felt the urge to surprise, to share my amusement with the whole situation. I took one last look at the arena and returned to the quiet street outside, where I’d just removed the G-string. My underwear was still on top of the bin. I’d only been gone a few minutes, however, so I decided to keep going. Whatever happened to it would have to remain a mystery.
As I walked, I was hyper-aware of how my lips below moved against each other as I walked, of how exposed I felt. I was very open, and suddenly I realized how wet I was. I caught sight of a man who was wearing a style of suit I really get a kick out of: navy with crisp white pinstripes. The sharp lines of his light pink button-down shirt contrasted beautifully with the dark blue suit. I guess my gaze lingered a little too long, because he made eye contact with me, and I felt my face get hot. All I could think about was how soft and wet I was, and how little separated that part of me from him. He flashed me a quick smile as he passed, and by the time I’d walked a few steps on I was sweating. I forced myself not to turn around to see if he was watching me.
I considered why my heart was pounding. Let’s say he’d said hello to me, or even chatted with me. What would I have done? I felt incredibly nervous at the thought, and confused. Where was my sense of boldness from before? Maybe that was it: maybe I was scared that, should he have stopped to talk to me, my boldness would have taken us both by surprise. I thought back to my trysts with the photographer. The very first time, when he was the one who had taken me by surprise, he told me that he’d sensed I was open to it, and I can’t deny that he was right. Maybe this man would have sensed the same thing?
My mind was spinning with what-ifs: What if Pinstriped Suit and I had casually ducked down a side street? What if we’d taken a walk back through the trees surrounding the arena? What if I’d moved my legs ever so slightly, just enough for him to notice the invitation? And what if he was nervous? I love the idea of being explored, but what if I was the one initiating the exploration? What if I took his hand, held it for a moment, then placed it where I was dying to be touched? What if I unbelted my trench coat and spread it around us to hide his hand from view? What if I moaned…then moaned again, just a little too loudly? What if he had to quiet me down in case I drew someone’s attention to what we were doing? What if he used his lips to do it? One hand in my hair, the other gently push, push, pushing against my clit, making me writhe, the hand in my hair now sliding down to grip my waist as he kissed me, holding me close, testing me, touching me tenderly, yet forcefully…what if I gripped his hand with the deepest part of me, squeezing him inside, then releasing, sending spasms around his hand and thrusting myself against him in a rhythm he never expected to find on a Thursday afternoon in Paris?
Oh, how I longed for such a release. I was in a state of extreme arousal, standing in front of the metro station where I’d begun the afternoon. I would have LOVED to visit my husband’s office, but it’s located in a completely different area, and anyway, it was time I went home. The metro was crowded and I had to stand, but for once I didn’t mind too much as I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be sitting down! The heat of my thoughts died down a little bit, but not completely, as I was still feeling extremely vulnerable without any underwear on. By the time I got back, I thought I’d calmed down sufficiently, but the privacy of my own home made me absolutely insatiable! Now that I could give myself a release, I lay down on the bed and slid my fingers beneath my dress. It was a pleasant shock to feel my naked body beneath, my lips warm and waiting to be touched. I came almost immediately. Then I came twice more. I let my fingers rest on my clit and sighed deeply. I might have to forget my underwear more often….
Need to catch up? Read the Sex Experiment from the beginning: Table of Contents