Disclaimer: This fantasy fiction story has been submitted by a fan and has no connection to the babe.

Lingerie Confessions: The Cum-Stained Knickers

Beth Bennett, a Babestation sensation, takes Fred on a journey of erotic fantasies through her lingerie descriptions. Her sultry voice and playful teases captivate Fred, who yearns for more with each call.

CHAPTER 1

Beth Bennett, the charismatic and curvaceous Kiwi babe, was a force to be reckoned with on Babestation. Her sultry voice and playful personality had captivated countless viewers, but there was one regular caller who craved something a little different—something that only Beth could provide. Fred, a self-proclaimed knicker enthusiast from Brighton, had developed an intense fascination with Beth's lingerie collection, and he couldn't get enough of her steamy descriptions.

"Hey, Fred, it's your favorite lingerie lover, Beth," she purred into the phone, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's on your naughty mind tonight?"

Fred's breath hitched as he heard her familiar voice, his heart racing with anticipation. "Oh, Beth, you know I can't resist your knickers. I've been dreaming about them all week. Tell me, what are you wearing right now?"

Beth giggled, a playful glint in her eyes as she imagined the effect her words would have on Fred. "Well, my dear Fred, I've got something special for you tonight. I'm wearing a pair of silky black thongs, sheer enough to reveal a glimpse of my pink pussy lips. Can you picture it, baby? They're so delicate, just like a spiderweb, teasing my skin."

Fred's hand unconsciously moved to his growing bulge, his voice hoarse with desire. "Oh, fuck, Beth. That sounds incredible. I can almost feel the softness of the silk against your skin. I wish I could slide my fingers under that fabric and explore your sweet pussy."

"Mmm, you naughty boy," Beth teased, her voice dripping with honeyed seduction. "I know exactly what you like. These thongs are one of my favorites too. They make me feel so damn sexy, especially when I think of you stroking your hard cock to the thought of me wearing them."

Fred's imagination ran wild as he pictured Beth, her voluptuous curves accentuated by the skimpy lingerie. "I bet you look stunning, Beth. I can't wait to hear more. What else do you have in your collection? I know you've got drawers full of treasures."

"Oh, Fred, you're in for a treat," she cooed, running her fingers through her blonde locks. "I've got drawers overflowing with the naughtiest knickers you can imagine. Lacy boy shorts that hug my round ass, sheer panties that barely cover my juicy pussy, and even some crotchless ones that leave me exposed and ready for action."

As Beth described each piece of lingerie, Fred's cock twitched, his mind flooded with erotic images. He could almost feel the different fabrics against his skin, each one more tantalizing than the last. "I can't decide which I want to hear about more, Beth. They all sound so fucking hot."

"How about I make it easy for you, Fred?" Beth suggested, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've got a special pair of knickers here, just waiting for your eager ears. They're my favorite, and I think they'll drive you wild."

Fred's breath quickened. "Yeah, tell me, Beth. What are they like?"

"These knickers are extra special," she began, her voice laced with anticipation. "They're red, my naughty little secret. But it's not just the color that makes them so irresistible. They're stained, Fred, stained with the evidence of a wild night."

Fred's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. "Stained? What do you mean?"

"Oh, Fred, you dirty boy, I knew you'd like this," she teased, her voice low and sulky. "These knickers are marked with the remnants of a passionate encounter. They're covered in the dried cum of a well-endowed stranger who couldn't resist my charms. Imagine the scent, the feel of them against your face as you inhale the essence of my desire."

Fred's mouth went dry as he envisioned the scene, his cock throbbing with need. "Fuck, Beth, that's fucking hot. I want to taste it, to feel the fabric against my tongue and know that someone else has marked you as their own."

"That's it, Fred," she urged, her voice growing raspy with arousal. "Let your imagination run wild. Picture me, on my knees, taking a thick cock deep into my mouth, my eyes locked on yours as I swallow every drop of his hot cum. And then, I slip on these knickers, the wetness of his release soaking into the fabric, and I wait for your call, knowing you'll be desperate to hear every filthy detail."

Fred's hand moved frantically on his shaft, his breath coming in short gasps. "I'm so close, Beth. I want to cum thinking about you in those knickers, imagining the taste of that stranger's cum on my tongue."

"Cum for me, Fred," Beth purred, her voice commanding yet seductive. "Let go and imagine your hot load staining my knickers, adding your essence to the fabric. I want to hear every moan, every dirty word as you climax."

Fred's words turned into incoherent moans as he surrendered to the fantasy, his orgasm erupting with explosive force. "Oh, fuck, Beth! I'm cumming... your knickers... so fucking dirty... I love it!"

Beth smiled into the phone, her voice soothing as Fred's breathing slowly returned to normal. "That's it, baby. Let it all out. I can almost feel your release from here. And remember, Fred, I've got plenty more knickers and naughty stories to share. Call me again soon, and we'll explore even more of our kinky lingerie fantasies."

As Fred hung up, his heart still pounding, he knew he'd be calling Beth again, eager to delve deeper into the erotic world she had so masterfully created. Beth Bennett, the lingerie lover, had cast her spell, and Fred was now hopelessly addicted to the sensations she could evoke with just her voice and a few well-chosen words.

CHAPTER 2

The Voyeur's Symphony

In this captivating tale, a high-society aristocrat and a Babestation star bond over a shared fetish. Lord Bedford St James and Beth Bennett indulge in voyeurism, creating a world where exhibitionism and secrecy intertwine.

Lord Bedford St James the Third, a distinguished member of the House of Lords, was a man of refined taste and peculiar interests. He had a well-established reputation as a socialite, often gracing the pages of high-society magazines and newspapers. But behind the veneer of aristocracy, the Lord harbored a secret passion—a fetish for voyeurism that he kept hidden from the prying eyes of the public. Little did he know that his fascination would soon intertwine with that of Beth Bennett, the captivating Babestation star.

Every Thursday evening, Lord Bedford would retreat to his private study, a room adorned with antique furniture and a collection of rare books. He would pour himself a glass of fine brandy, settle into his leather armchair, and reach for the telephone, dialing the familiar number of the Babestation line. The operator would connect him to the enchanting Beth, whose voice alone was enough to stir his senses.

"Good evening, Lord Bedford," Beth purred into the receiver, her voice laced with a playful tone. "I've been expecting your call. What tantalizing fantasies shall we explore tonight?"

The Lord, taking a sip of his brandy, cleared his throat, his posh accent betraying his excitement. "My dear Beth, I have a particular craving this evening. You see, I've been indulging in a certain fantasy lately, one that involves our shared appreciation for the art of voyeurism."

Beth's blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned forward in her chair at the Babestation studio. "Oh, do tell, Lord Bedford. I'm all ears... and perhaps other parts of my body too." She let out a soft, sultry laugh, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.

"Well, my dear, I envision a grand ballroom, filled with the crème de la crème of society. The ladies are adorned in exquisite gowns, their necks graced with pearls, and the gentlemen are suited in the finest silks and linens. But beneath this veneer of sophistication, a secret desire burns within them."

As Beth listened, she couldn't help but be drawn into the Lord's vivid imagination. His words painted a picture in her mind, and she found herself captivated by his unique fantasy.

"Imagine, if you will, a secret chamber hidden within the ballroom," he continued. "A place where the most discreet and adventurous souls gather. Through a small, discreetly placed peephole, we witness the most scandalous acts. The heat of passion, the thrill of being watched, it all intertwines in a symphony of eroticism."

Beth's heart raced as she envisioned the scene. "Oh, Lord Bedford, you certainly know how to set the stage. Tell me more about this clandestine gathering."

The Lord took a moment to savor the moment, his eyes closing as he relished the anticipation. "The chamber is dimly lit, with velvet curtains draped across the walls. It is a sanctuary for the voyeurs, where they can indulge in their darkest desires. As we peer through the peephole, we witness a couple, unaware of our presence. The woman, a vision of elegance, slowly undresses, revealing her voluptuous curves. Her partner, a handsome gentleman, watches with hungry eyes."

Beth's breath quickened, and she could feel her cheeks flush with arousal. "And what happens next, Lord Bedford? Do they sense they are being watched?"

"Indeed, my dear. As their passion intensifies, they become aware of our presence. It heightens their desire, knowing they are the subject of our voyeuristic pleasure. The woman, with a mischievous smile, teases us, her fingers trailing down her body, caressing her soft skin. The gentleman, overcome with lust, takes her in his arms, and they dance a sensual waltz, their bodies moving in perfect harmony."

Beth's fingers trailed down her neck, unconsciously mimicking the movements described by the Lord. "It's an exquisite dance, isn't it? The art of voyeurism and exhibitionism intertwined."

"Precisely, Beth. It is a delicate balance, a game of cat and mouse. We, the voyeurs, remain hidden, our presence known only to them. And they, the exhibitionists, perform for our pleasure, their desires fueled by the knowledge that they are being watched."

As the conversation continued, Beth and Lord Bedford delved deeper into their shared fantasy. They discussed the intricacies of voyeurism, the thrill of observing without being seen, and the power dynamics at play. Beth shared her own experiences, recalling the times she had been watched by strangers, the excitement of being desired from afar.

"I once performed a private dance for a client," Beth recounted. "He sat in a darkened room, a mere silhouette, but his presence was palpable. As I moved to the music, I could feel his eyes on me, burning with desire. It was as if I was dancing just for him, and the experience left me trembling with excitement."

Lord Bedford nodded, his eyes glinting with understanding. "Ah, the power of the voyeur. To be the unseen observer, to witness the most intimate of moments, it is a privilege and a thrill."

Their conversation flowed like a sensual dance, each word a step closer to the climax of their shared fantasy. Beth, with her captivating storytelling, and Lord Bedford, with his refined imagination, created a world where voyeurism was an art form, a delicate dance of desire and secrecy.

As the night drew to a close, they promised to continue their exploration of this shared fetish. Beth, with her adventurous spirit, and Lord Bedford, with his sophisticated tastes, had found a unique connection, a bond forged through their love of voyeurism.

The following week, Lord Bedford eagerly awaited his Thursday evening ritual. As he settled into his study, the anticipation of Beth's voice and the continuation of their fantasy filled him with a sense of excitement that defied his years. And across town, in the Babestation studio, Beth Bennett prepared for another night of tantalizing conversation, ready to delve deeper into the dark art of voyeurism with her aristocratic admirer.