Adolpha and the Rapping Pantalets: A Spiritualist Erotica
Adolpha and the Rapping Pantalets
As Adolpha removed her jewelry by the old wardrobe in the corner, she heard a shuffling sound. With a start, she opened her wardrobe, thinking she might reveal the family cat, perhaps in pursuit of some rodent that had previously lived in the wall.
But the wardrobe was bare. Adolpha had not unpacked from her recent vacation, and the wardrobe was devoid of her finest dresses, which were still piled on a chair. Adolpha was simply too tired to unpack her dresses. All day the motion of the horse had left her feeling unsettled and restless. She was even too tired to bathe and looked at her bed with dismay, for she had become sweaty on the long ride and did not wish to sully her blankets. But she had been so confined, so restricted, and her garments felt oppressive by day’s end.
She heard more shuffling from her wardrobe. All she saw was the pristine white of her cutout pantalletes. They were so inviting, she thought, and they were even cut out at the crotch so her sex could be refreshed in the night air. Adolpha cast off her dirty clothes and put on the pantalettes, quickly energized by the breeze flowing to her quim. In her haste to put on a lacy sleeping shirt, several buttons fell off.
“Where are you, buttons?” Adolpha said, getting on her knees and reaching around the bed. As she did, she heard the shuffling sound again. She paused. The sound came again. Adolpha lay flat to better reach the lost buttons. She felt the cool hardness of the floor against her secret fur and the sleekness that lay beneath. “Oh I love to feel the night air!” Adolpha exclaimed, sliding her pubis back and forth on the floor. She remembered that the floor was uneven around her bed, had a little bulge in the wood even, and thought she would lie down and look for her buttons there.
“What was this?” She thought. As she saw the swollen mound of the floor, she felt as if she possessed a swollen mound herself. “Suppose I put my swollen mound on that of the floor!” She mused, her cheeks pinking at the thought.
The shuffling got louder and became a full knocking sound. Adolpha would look for the cat again but was so ensonsced in her ministrations as she rubbed her groin over the bump in the floor again. “Where is that knocking come from?” She wondered, hearing it grow louder still as she moved over the floor.
“Maybe if I just lay down on my back here, the knocking won’t be so loud,” Adolpha said, turning onto her back. As she did, the remaining buttons burst, scattering around her.
“I’ll just lie on my back and think about how to find those buttons,” Adolpha thought. The floor beneath her was made of wood. “Suppose my exercise over the bulge has caused there to be a splinter in my sex!” She thought. The knocking was so loud, so close now, and her pinkness had been invigorated by the fresh air through the window and her calisthenics with the floorboards. Her lower petals were so moist and tender, she worried that it would be more susceptible than usual to a stray splinter, and she thought she should inspect things for herself.
Adolpha reached into the opening of her pantalelts and discovered just how susceptible her sex had become. “There is no splinter here, only softness,” she thought. The knocking was insistent now, and she realized with a start it was coming from her pantalets themselves!
“Pantalets, what are you knocking for?” She thought she might cast them aside and rejuvenate on the floor without vestments, but then she realized she could feel the knocking sound as wear as hear it. She returned to her hand to her sex, and the knocking intensified so much she could feel it reverberate through her fingers. She sharply drew in her breath so she could better appreciate the knocking.
Her left hand reverberated as well as her right. She used it to unfurl her scarlet fan while her thundering right hand worked at her bulb. “Oh pantalets,” she murmered, biting her lip as seizing pleasure took hold of her body. Though the pantalets were still on her legs, Adolpha sensed their loud vibration over her bosom and she pinched its peaks to assess how strongly the pantalets were shaking her. The knocking and the vibrating sounds soared as the most delirious sensation set upon her sex, the knocking now begging her to aid in her own surrender. She touched her velvet portal again and felt it had made honey on her fingers now.
But the knocking continued.
“Pantalets, do you have more to tell me?” Adolpha asked. She was naked but for the pantalets that had relieved her of such strain and fatigue.
She removed them, then, and lay down beneath them. Their legs were still crisp and white. Adolpha was full of goodwill toward the enchanted pants which had brought her such pleasure. She thought to embrace them in thanks. As she held them above herself, the thudding increased, and she felt a great thudding within herself as a storm can force a door to open.
Adolpha opened her legs wide and welcomed the pantalets between them. She could not explain their nimble rapture, how the fabric grazed and sucked as if animated. She had thought she would be exhausted by now, but the pantalets would not have it, demanding she focus all her attention on receiving their mighty thudding. The garments seemed to be a tongue lapping at her, were it possible for a tongue to touch a lady there. She lay back, and the rapping subsided a bit as its invisible tongue lapped at her, forcing her into startling climax.
Adolpha lay spent beneath the pantalets, enchanted by her new fashions.
And then the knocking sound began again. The knocking was a hard, firm sound. It demanded that she open her legs and spread her sex wide to receive it so as to thank it for its favors. The full thudding warmed her interior walls, flooding her cervix with the same honey which trickled from her opening.
As a thunderous echo sounded, more and more honey flowed from her, pooling around her while the pantalets maintained their labor. She could feel the wooden bulge of the floor beneath her derriere, angling up her delta so she could receive still more pleasure.
“Pantalets!” Adolpha exclaimed as wild paroxysm arose from deep within her, causing her to grasp the pantalets more tightly, feeling the thundering rapping against her with one final shove of ecstasy.
Adolpha was spent then, and the pantalets ceased their rapping sound.
The most fun thing I could think to write was a series of spiritualist erotica.
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