A hot pantie and remote controlled climaxes !
Updated: Apr 16
Independent escort Louisa Lesander writes frequently about special erotic encounters. Enjoying the beautiful things in life together is the motto of her rendezvous in Berlin and worldwide.
Since I found these panties on the net, I couldn't help but suffer from ominous hormonal boosts, resulting in ordering this promising lingerie. Finally, after about 14 days the package arrived and I immediately took a look to the content inside. As with almost all products of this kind, the quality was not the best. In particular for the pantie.
Escort Louisa Lesander and the vibrating panties
The vibrating component of the pantie, which luckily was removable, had seemed somewhat attention attracting because noisy and I wondered whether other persons might notice the sound, for example in a restaurant.
In certain locations this certainly would be so, and especially in such locations, which are characterized in that the staff always seems a bit blasé by nature and that the guests do not really know about what to talk to each other and, consequently, prefer to deal with the awarded gourmet highlights. Thus, you usually can hear a pin fall onto the floor.
A slightly more vibrant location would be somewhat favourable.
But first of all, I urgently needed a male hand, one that has the necessary fine motor skills and is quite interested in those toys
For this responsibility requiring job, only one gentleman came to my mind, who likes to get excited to such kinky experiences and also tends to spend almost every month in Berlin. I quickly wrote an e-mail asking about his travel plans and at the same time preparing him for carrying his role in my Project.
On one Saturday evening these plans materialized and we met at 20.30 in a big Berlin celebrity restaurant whose station-like atmosphere provided the necessary background noise and I was confident, that we would not attract particular attention with our experiment.
That evening I wore a black decollete dress in which I felt decently wrapped by its perfect design, it was the ideal mix of elegance and erotic nobility. I had put up my long hair modestly.
When I prepared for the evening I anyway had the urgent desire not to appear like a remote-controlled independent escort lady, who not only wore a vibrant panties, but in addition this interesting plug-like item recommended by a kind fellow escort. Before I put on the panties, I professionally placed this nice piece of joy at a place where I expected it to be a refreshing and exciting experience (for all Greek fans: No it did not go down in the annals).
Independent Escort Louisa Lesander and the Two Remotes
So, two remote controls tumbled around in my handbag, one for the panties and the other for the playful egg. In this context, it is important to mention that a woman should not keep various remote controls loose in a hand bag, which in my case approaches the dimensions of a travel case and allows me to carry along all the things that others might consider as useful for a spontaneous four week holiday...
Because if a woman is sitting in a taxi and grabbing around for her cell phone in this giant hand bag, thereby unintentionally activating one of the remote controls, the taxi driver might start wondering about this passenger starting to behave strangely, chuckling by no evident reason, and then explaining with a blush "It must be my cell phone, it's switched to vibration alert...” Such ineptitudes would give the word vibrating alert a somewhat special touch.
I am mentioning this a side comment only, but let us turn to the actual evening event. As I mentioned previously, this particular restaurant was chosen only in view of the high level of noise, otherwise it splits the inclined gourmet community in and around Berlin into two parties, some rejecting it as impossible and a peace of dirt, others praising it as absolutely hip and prominent.
Still, I must say that I cannot really speak badly about this place and I was always served very courteously and very friendly, probably because the people there always confuse me there with some VIP, or, alternatively, I simply remind the restaurant boss of his beloved mum. And "mom" always gets the best table, and so was it also on that evening.
Between the amuse-geule and a sparkling champagne, I briefed my counterpart as discreetly as possible about the technical details and operational options of my special equipment being arranging in and on my body additionally. He blushed as I discreetly reached to him the “power” under the napkin, which I had wisely unfolded on the table first. I gave him the "power", those small remote controls, without a word but with a at the same time slightly anxious expectation, how this gentleman, with me sitting opposite to him as his remote-controlled lady, might act to irritate my sensibility
A humming sound was heard, but luckily concealed by the noisy environment to others, and the panties did the job, as well as the funny plug. The blood rose into my face, I could not distinguish if it was because of shame or excitement, but the fact that I was being fucked here in public by way of remote control was quite stimulating, if not insane erotic, but on the other hand seemed somewhat grotesque as well.
At the same time my gaze wandered nervously through the room and to a table where a group of C celebrities just seemed to pose around for imaginary photographers, who they seemed to expect every moment. Interestingly, among them was a lady who was known for her former bitch escapades and, thus, had achieved a certain fame.
Between a slight clumsiness of my companion on the remote control and a small suppressed sigh on my part, the thought flashed through my mind that I probably would be second to none in this slut parade over there. But thankfully, I was not on the wish-list of various paparazzi, because my celebrity status will in this life probably not turn up, and this certainly is better for an Escort Lady, who was remotely controlled at just that moment. Taking the meals was difficult under these circumstances as I might have appeared a little awkward.
We had ordered a large portion of oysters, which I had to prepare for my counterpart mouth-friendly, since the poor man´s hands were more or less busy with other duties.
Between some violent thrusts and subsequently declining clitoral stimulation, I gorged down the viscous biomass, appropriately like a starving woman. I almost choked over these little mean things.
I do not want to imagine what would have happened if I had had a coughing attack. The connoisseur knows that decent coughing of the lady is quite perceptible in the event that a man dwells in her, and this occasionally leads to unintentional ejection of his best piece.
In my currently stuffed-up condition, I did not really like the idea that the funny red egg might escape from me and in the end landing on the pretty stone floor of the restaurant and happily whirring around.
I washed down the last glibbery little creature with a less ladylike big sip of white wine and surrendered to what inevitably happened to me, because my counterpart, shortly before the main course came, understood it so virtuously to drive me on the emotional excitement scale up, to catapult me, , so that I also came and this with such a penetrating violence that I almost slipped from the bench I was sitting on, or actually at that time was rather sliding around on like a randy cat, along with a jaunt of pleasure, which I just could still attenuate in its dramatic volume by pressing my napkin onto the mouth again, which in turn led to short-term breathlessness and mild circulatory insufficiency.
A short silent silence at our table, but only for three seconds, my companion being full of joy and enthusiasm about his accomplished achievement of remote controlled orgasm donation.
And best of all, none of the other guests had noticed. When the waiter brought the second course of food, he looked at me worried, because I still had a certain blush on the face and was slightly, but only slightly, hanging over the table and gasping.
"Is everything Alright Madame" was something wrong with the oysters?
“All well my dear, they were exquisite and a true orgasm for the tongue”
I replied ecstatically to the irritated Maître.
My charming playmate and I let the “motors” on again once more after the main course and before the crème brûlée was served, so that I had already surrendered to another magnificent "Petit Mort".
Excellently fucked and with trembling knees I left the restaurant with the worthy master of the remote controls at late hour and later the day I rewarded him according to all rules of my art for these slightly different culinary highlights ….