When I was working at an L.A. dungeon, I had a neighbor named Maggie in the apartment building where I lived.

She had graduated college a few years ahead of me, and was now a grad student. The mailman always mixed up our packages, so we made polite conversation in the mailroom, but nothing beyond the superficial. Maggie was sexy in an understated, nerdy way with big brown eyes and perky tits that she hid under loose sweaters.

Late one night, I was coming back from a play party in full fetish gear: a black latex mini dress that may as well have been painted on, thigh-high boots, and a bag full of implements. I was with two female submissives, both wearing long black trench coats and collars. Maggie arrived home at almost the same time, so she caught up with us as I unlocked the building’s front door. I watched her eyes travel the length of my outfit and pause on the crops and canes that stuck out of my bag. Then she took in the two attractive women with me.

“Costume party?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“Something like that,” I answered.

I offered Maggie a teasing smile, and one of my subs gave her a saucy wink. I made a mental note to punish her once we got inside. Brazenly flirting with my neighbors was definitely not fair game.

We headed to our respective apartments, and a short time later the sound of Maggie’s TV came through the wall before my companions and I started playing music with a heavy bass — all the better to drown out moans of pleasure and pain.

I forgot all about bumping into Maggie as I started to play with my subs. I had held back at the play party, but here I could indulge whatever fantasies I wanted.

I was still mostly clothed, sitting on the edge of a chair and letting them take turns going down on me, when I heard someone knocking on my front door. I shooed my naked subs to the bedroom and pulled my dress back down before peering through the peephole. There stood Maggie, bottle of wine in hand, wearing sweatpants and one of those baggy sweaters that drove me wild. She looked so delightfully innocent. What was she doing knocking on my door after midnight when she knew I had company?

I opened the door with a small smile.

“Um, any chance I can join you guys?” she blurted. “I’m not really sure how this works… but I brought wine.”

Chuckling as I let her in, I said, “Why don’t you go open the bottle in the kitchen, take a few swigs, and join us in the bedroom?”

When she reappeared, the three of us were sprawled on the bed, though not doing anything beyond a little sensual rubbing.

“What are you curious about, Maggie?” I asked. “BDSM? Women? Pain? Bondage? What brought you over here?”

It was fucked up to immediately put her on the spot, but I couldn’t think of another way of making sure we didn’t head down a road she didn’t want.

“All of it,” she answered quietly. “And you. I’m curious about my feelings for you.”

I huffed a laugh and beckoned her over.

“How about we start slow and not worry about any BDSM or limits right now? What if we just make you feel good? Reward you for having the guts to come over here?”

She grinned and nodded, hopping onto the bed. There were a few awkward moments as we folded her into our tangle of soft-skinned arms and legs, but then the momentum of lust took over once again.

Maggie kissed me, moaning as our tongues met and I slid my hands under that loose sweater.

“I knew you weren’t wearing bras under them,” I chuckled against her lips, rolling her nipples between my fingers. I pinched them gently, loving the way it made her breath catch.

“I’ve never been with a woman,” she whispered, sounding self-conscious.

“Well, lucky you — three for the price of one on your first go!”

At that, she turned and kissed my subs as well, first one then the other, matching their unique kissing styles. It was hot to watch her with them, knowing she was feeling that unmistakable, glorious softness of kissing another woman for the first time.

It was hot to watch Maggie with my submissives, knowing she was feeling that unmistakable, glorious softness of kissing another woman for the first time.

One of them eventually went to pull Maggie’s pants off, but I stopped her.

“I want Maggie to do it. I want to know that you really want this, that you chose it.”

She looked me in the eye as she slowly stripped her sweatpants down to her ankles and stepped out of them. And they say consent isn’t sexy…

I groaned in delight when I saw her white cotton panties. Paired with her huge sweater, it was too delicious to handle, so I pounced on her, slipping my hand into that innocent underwear.

I’m pretty sure I have a fetish for white cotton panties. Same for naughty girls with soaking wet pussies hidden inside of them, which is what I found when my fingers reached Maggie’s plump lips. They parted easily as the slick proof of her arousal coated my fingertips. She almost seemed too wet for the few minutes of foreplay that had happened.

“Were you touching yourself at your place, wondering what we were doing over here?” I asked as I began rubbing her clit in lazy circles.

She gasped, but didn’t answer me, so I pulled my fingers away.

She moaned in protest, and said, “Yes! Yes, I was touching myself thinking about what you might be doing over here.”

“Did you come?”

I thrust my fingers inside her as I asked the question. She didn’t try to avoid answering this time.

“No. I was close, but held back.”

“Are you close now?” I asked, rubbing her clit faster and thrusting harder.

“Yes,” she moaned, more plea than answer.

“Good,” I murmured, kissing her again as I brought her to her first climax with my fingers.

She melted back against the pillows a moment later. All the nervous tension had left her in an instant.

“Ready for more?”

“There’s more?” she asked with a delighted giggle.

“Ladies,” I said, inviting my subs with a nod of my head. They knew what to do. They went back to what we’d been engaged in when Maggie knocked on the door, only now she was the object of their attention.

They took turns licking Maggie’s pussy, switching places every time they made her come.

When we had all lost track of how many times she’d gotten off, and she was lying limp and satiated, Maggie looked up at me and asked, “Does this make me a lesbian?”

I could only laugh.

“I’m not sure it makes you a lesbian… but we could always keep experimenting and find out,” I offered.

She nodded eagerly, and pulled me down for a kiss.

“On one condition,” I added. “You keep wearing the sweaters and that underwear. I can’t fuckin’ resist those white cotton panties.”