The hottest thing I never did

I once considered a mixed martial artist with UFC aspirations. He had a beautiful body, was smart as hell and fiercely competitive.

There aren't any other sports that captivate me quite the way the UFC does. Ripped, sweaty men pummeling each other to decide who is the best, the most manly. I love it.

And the thought of watching the fighter engage another man physically ... knowing he wanted to please me ... knowing he sometimes tied his cock with pink ribbon to amuse and entertain me ... it was panty dampening.

I wanted to watch him fight. I found the idea intensely erotic and so did he. So I upped the ante and came up with this - the hottest thing I never did.

I told him I'd wear panties to his fight. And that my panties were sure to get a little more than damp watching him fight.

If he won, he'd get my damp, dirty panties as reward. If he lost, he would not get my panties.

In fact, I promised him I'd bring him home and make him kneel by the washing machine. I'd make him watch as I very slowly took my panties off and dropped them into the washing machine without letting him have as much as a sniff. And that I'd make him kneel there through the whole washing cycle contemplating his loss - his loss in the ring and the loss of my panties.