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Will Work for Panties Ch. 01

By: Vincent E



Life is too short to go through it stupid and careless.  I guess that you can be either one thing or the other and you will not inflict too much damage on yourself, but the combination of the two can prove tragic.  For instance, if you are going to raid your aunt’s underwear hamper on a holiday visit – stupid – you should not leave the door to the bathroom unlocked – careless.  Well, I learned first hand just how bad the combination of stupid and careless could be.  Fortunately for me the end results were not hideous.

I’ve had a panty fetish ever since my balls dropped.  I don’t know why, but I get turned on by the sight, and the thought for that matter, of women’s underwear.  Bras and garters are great, but the sight of panties is what really gets my blood flowing.  Just the sight of panties, they don’t need to be filled.  I collected the newspaper circulars when I was really young and kept the pictures of the women’s underwear.  It was better that a girlie magazine, those women were often naked.

Like most panty fetishists I started raiding my mother’s panty drawer, but her underwear was always so boring that I never got a real thrill.  I could sneak a peek at a cousin’s underwear drawer from time to time, but those panties were always too youthful.  It was women’s, not girls’ panties that excite me.  So, I stuck to collecting pictures for years and years hoping one day to have a pair of panties of my very own.

This is where the combination of stupid and careless comes into the picture.  My Aunt Sherrie is a very attractive woman.  She is actually my uncle Donald’s wife, and she is the youngest aunt that I have.  Naturally that makes her the coolest aunt that a young man could have.  The family got into the habit of spending holidays at their house in the suburbs, and from time to time when I went to the bathroom I would sneak a peek at the contents of the hamper.  I would often see a pair of her womanly undies and get a rush of blood to my head; you can guess which one.

I came upon a scheme for larceny.  I screwed up the nerve one holiday to make a grab at the first pair of her knickers that I could find the next time we went over to their house.  To make a long story short, there I was hovering over the hamper with three pairs of panties in my hands when the door opened and Aunt Sherrie stepped into the bathroom.  She hadn’t planned on finding anyone in there; it was just my dumb luck that I left the door open.

“What are you doing?”  She asked with a look of shock on her face.

I just froze in place.  I didn’t wet myself, but that could be because I had just taken a tinkle before I jumped into the hamper.

“Give me those,” she said as she ripped the panties from my hands.  “Get out of here you little pervert.”

I slinked past her and escaped from the room.  I spent the rest of the holiday visit avoiding her, and when we did occasionally cross paths I sensed that she was burning a hole into me with her eyes.  I had been caught red handed with a pair of black nylon lace trimmed panties in my hands, and I had never been more embarrassed about anything in my whole life.  If she ever told anyone I would have to leave the family once and for all.  How would people react to an 18-year old college man raiding his auntie’s panties?

“I should have just bought some,” I thought to myself for the rest of the day.  That would have been less embarrassing than getting caught and having the specter of the whole family knowing hanging over my head for the rest of Christmas.

The following week life got more interesting for me.  Each time that I considered the fact that I got caught it dawned on me that no one else had said a word to me.  I guessed that Aunt Sherrie had let the matter go and had spared me any further embarrassment by keeping the episode a secret.  I knew she was cool.  But I received a phone call from her late in the week that changed everything for me.

“Vincent, it’s your Aunt Sherrie.”

“Ahh, um, yeah.  What’s up?” I stammered out the response.  It was the first time she spoke to me since she caught me red-handed and red-faced.

“I think that we need to talk about a few things.  Your uncle is out with the kids.  Come on over now,” she replied.

“Well, I don’t think that I can just now.”  I would have said anything to avoid a face-to-face confrontation with her.  I was scared.

“Vincent, I’m not asking you to come over, I’m telling you to come over.  Now get over here in the next 15-minutes or else.”  Click.  She hung up the phone.

“Well,” I said to myself out loud, “it has been a good life, even if it was a short one.”

I drove my broken-down Buick over, but not as fast as I could.  I stopped at every yellow light, didn’t take any right turns until the light changed to green, and stopped for pedestrians who looked like they were thinking of crossing the street.  When I finally arrived at her house Aunt Sherrie was waiting for me at the door.  I walked up the steps and she opened the door for me and said to come in and sit down.  Oddly, she didn’t seem mad.  In fact she seemed really cool.

We sat in the living room and she opened up the conversation by getting right to the point.

“Why were you going through my panties?”

I was aghast.  I didn’t know how to reply, so I just shrugged my shoulders.

“Come on, that isn’t good enough.  I want an answer.”  She still did not seem angry.  “Why were you going through my panties?”

“I don’t know.”  I have always marveled at how we use this answer to avoid saying what is really on our minds.  Children use it at an early age, and continue using it right into adulthood.  I did know why I was in her panties, but I didn’t want to say why.  It was as if talking about it was worse than getting caught.

“I think you do know, and I want an answer.  Were you going through my panties because they excite you?”

“Yes,” I answered in a meekish manner.

“Was it because you like to look at panties?”

“I guess so.”

“Was it because you wanted to take them?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I wasn’t even looking at her.  Instead I was looking at my shoes.

Aunt Sherrie moved from her seat and sat of the sofa next to me.  She raised my head to look me in the eyes.  This was the moment that I was most frightened.

“Did you want to use them to play with yourself?” she asked.  That was the most embarrassing question.  The answer was yes, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“I don’t know.”  There was that handy answer again.

“I think it was.  Now be honest.  Did you want to take my panties to masturbate?”

“Yes.  I did,” I said as I looked away in shame.  I could feel my cheeks heat up from an embarrassing flush.

“Vincent, it is okay.  I’m not mad, and I don’t want to embarrass you.  I’m just glad that you are willing to talk to me about it.”

I was amazed.  I shot a look at her in surprise, and she just smiled at me with a reassuring grin.  I didn’t sense it until just now, but she had been holding my hand since she had come to sit next to me.  She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

“Thank-you,” I said.  I was extremely grateful to say the least.

“Look,” she continued, “if you want to talk about this I will listen.  You have a panty fetish.  There is nothing wrong with that.  And I know that you may be embarrassed by it.  However, if you want someone to be listen while you get things off your chest, I am here for you.”

I knew she was cool.

We spoke briefly - pardon the pun – about the episode in the bathroom.  I admitted to her that I had intended to steal her panties from the hamper and take them home where I would use them to jerk-off.  She patted me on the hand and told me that she was just surprised to walk into her bathroom and find me raiding the hamper so carelessly: “Why didn’t you lock the door?”  She admitted that she was in fact flattered that I wanted her panties.  

“I’m glad that you think they’re sexy,” she said.

All during the conversation my cock was rock hard, and I could hardly move from my seat when she told me that I had to go before her family came home.

As I left the house she asked me a question.

“Vincent, would you be willing to help with some work around the house.  We are going to be doing some redecorating over the rest of the winter and we could use your help.  I’ll make sure you get compensated properly”

“Sure,” I offered quickly, “I’d be glad to help.”  I wanted to stay on her good side.  After all, my sexy aunt had caught me with my hands in the cookie jar and was offering to keep my secret.  I guess I’d do anything for her.

*	*	*

The Saturday that she asked me to come over and help paint the living room and dining room was about a week later.  The job required two coats of eggshell colored paint in each room and meticulous work around the wood trim.  My uncle and I had painted the room and completed the job from preparation to clean up in a few hours.  He wasn’t sure he liked the color of the paint, but Sherrie loved it.

After we finished cleaning ourselves we ate a lunch that Aunt Sherrie had prepared for us.  When we finished I said that I had to leave.  My uncle had gone to see a neighbor while I said goodbye to my aunt.

“Thank-you very much for all your help today, Vincent.”

“Well, It wasn’t that much work.  If you need anything else, just give me a call,” I replied.

“I will.  Oh, by the way, I have something for you.”

I was halfway back in the door as she handed me a small paper bag.  I looked inside and found a small gift-wrapped package.

“Open it when you get home,” she said.

Well when I got home I went to my bedroom, casually opened the package and found a three pack of women’s panties inside.  My cock sprang to an instant erection.  Here I was standing in my room with my very own panties provided to me by my loving aunt.  It was more than I could handle.  I shook nervously as I opened the package and pulled out three pairs of cotton/spandex blend, white panties.  One pair was had little roses on them, the second pair had tiny rainbows, and the third pair had hearts.

“Man is she ever cool,” I thought out loud.

I didn’t waste anytime dropping my pants, wrapping the heart panties around my unit, and stroking until I felt a surge of come rushing to freedom.  It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t even sure of what was going on around me.  My mother was knocking on the door asking me how everything went at her brother’s house, and there I am inches away on the other side of the door looking for something to use to clean up the mess.

Sherrie didn’t call again for a few weeks; it was late winter when she did.  I had been enjoying the panties that she had given me and did my best to keep them clean after I soiled them; I actually felt a little guilty about not thanking her, so when I talked to her on the phone I didn’t know what to say.

Actually she called because they were going to be laying down some carpeting that weekend, and she wanted me to come over to help move the furniture around and lend a had putting down the carpet.

“Sure, it’s no problem,” I said.

“Great.  Then we’ll be expecting you early.  Goodbye.”  She hung up before I could say anything else; the kids were screaming in the background and she had more important things to do than converse with her panty loving nephew at the moment.

That weekend we moved three rooms of furniture and laid down the carpeting in the living room, dining room, and den.  The job took most of the day between my uncle, his brother Brian, and myself.  By late in the day we had all the carpeting placed down on top of new padding and each room back to normal.

Once we finished Brian excused himself to get back home to his wife.  My uncle went to prepare for dinner – he was taking the family out.  Sherrie once again saw me to the door and said goodbye to me.  My heart pounded violently as she handed me another package similar to the one from earlier in the winter.

“I hope you are still accepting the same payment,” she said coyly.

“Um, well…” I couldn’t reply to her.  I was just too excited.

“Did you enjoy your last compensation?”

“Well, yeah.  I did.  Thank-you very much, auntie.”

“Well, your welcome, nephew.  No get on home.”

I took just enough care to get home without running off the road.  I was so excited about opening this package that I raced to my room, locked the door, and tore into the package my aunt had given me.  

I was not disappointed.  Inside the gift wrapped package was another three pairs of women’s panties.  These were different than the last ones, they were all nylon bikinis; very sexy garments compared to the earlier panties.  One pair was pure white, the second pair was a nude color, and the third pair was black.  

I wrapped the black panties around my cock as soon as I could get my pants down to my knees and began jerking furiously.  I didn’t want to soil these panties with my semen, so when I sensed that I was going to come I pulled them away from my cock and came while standing over a wastebasket.  I spent the rest of the weekend enjoying these new undies; making myself come so many times I thought I would go dry.

Again, several weeks passed before I heard from Aunt Sherrie.  It was now early spring, and she called to see if I would help with some carpentry.  They were building a deck outside the house and she wanted to know if I was willing to lend a hand.

“Sure, anything for my favorite aunt,” I said with a big cheesy grin over the phone.

“Wonderful.  By the way, how have you been enjoying your payment?” she asked.

“I, well, thank-you.  I have been enjoying them,” I answered her.

“I’ll bet they’re all stained and everything.”  I was taken back by that comment.

“What?” I said meekishly.

“Come on.  I know what you have been doing.  Remember Vincent, you can tell me anything.”

I confessed that I used them to jerk off as soon as I got home each time.  She seemed gratified by that.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re having fun.”  She smiled at me  “We’ll expect you this weekend then.”

“Sure,” I replied, “I’ll be over at the same time.”

“I’ll see you then.  Will the same payment do?” she asked.

“Well, I guess we have established a price,” I said jokingly.

“Excellent.  Then we’ll be expecting you.”

Well, it was a beautiful spring day, and an unseasonably warm one at that.  Once again I assisted my uncle and his brother Brian with the construction of the deck.  Most of the boards were pre-cut requiring little more than nailing them in place.  The only hard work was setting the concrete blocks for support posts that held up the whole endeavor.

We finished in the late afternoon.  Brian was talking to my aunt, his sister, while my uncle and I put away the tools and picked up scattered lumber.  After Brian left we all ate a late lunch.  Once again Aunt Sherrie gave me payment as I was on my way home.  Once again I got home as quickly as possible to open my compensation.

This time I thought I had hit the jackpot.  These three panties were the most exquisite.  There were three pairs of satin bikinis with French cut thighs.  One pair was a pale green, another was light pink, and the third was white.  I got those pink panties wrapped around my penis as fast as possible and stroked and stroked and stroked until I felt a good squirt coming on.

However, this time I stopped short of coming.  I grabbed all the other panties that I had from their secret hiding place and pulled out the nude color bikinis.  Sitting in a chair with a pair in each hand I slowly jerked my cock and fondled my balls until I felt the onset of another orgasm.  Again, I cut this one short and pulled out the rainbow panties and the white ones from my latest payment and continued stroking.  This time I had built up a good head of steam and didn’t stop until I saw a line of white fluid spew forth from my cock and spill out onto my leg.

Could life get any better than this?

*	*	*

In May that year Aunt Sherrie called me and asked if I would be willing to help her sister with a project hat they were doing around their house.  Aunt Sherrie’s older sister, Patti, and her husband were planning on installing an underground sprinkler system, and she asked if I was available to help dig the trench around the property where they would lay the pipes.  I could never say no to my favorite aunt at this point, besides the prospect of her paying me with another set of panties loomed in the air.  I told her that I would be happy to help.

That weekend I went over to her sister Patti’s house and set out to dig the trench.  It had to be at least 18-inches deep all the way around a 100-foot circumference.  Needless to say it took a long time for Patti’s husband and me to dig.  It was a two-day job that we had to do with shovels because they could not fit any heavy equipment past the landscaping without ruining it.  When we finally finished late Sunday afternoon I was exhausted.

Patti rewarded us with some lemonade and hot dogs that she had bee grilling on the patio.  I cleaned up inside the house and went back out to eat.  When dinner was over Patti’s husband went inside to take a shower.  I had to go home.  

Before I got to my car Patti came over to me and handed me a package.  The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise as I accepted the package from her.

“Sherrie told me that this is how you prefer to be paid,” she said to me.

“What?”  My hand trembled as I took the package from her.  I was like a zombie with my mouth wide open; I could not formulate any words.  Even if I could I would not know what to say.

“Sherrie, your aunt.  Remember, silly.  She told me that you prefer to be paid with panties.”

“I … what?  She … no,” was all I could stammer out of my mouth.

“It’s okay, Vincent.  I know all about it.  She is my sister; we share everything.  Don’t be so shocked.  I understand your little fetish, and it is fine with me,” she offered in a very understanding way.

“It is?”

“Sure.  Besides, I have some experience with this, after all.  Drive home safely.  And, I hope you enjoy them.”  She turned back into the house and closed the door before I could say anything else.

I raced to get back to my house.  The thought of someone other that Aunt Sherrie knowing about my fetish, let alone providing me with new panties both disturbed and excited me.  On the one had I was scared that someone else knew my secret now.  On the other hand the fact that another woman had selected panties just for me was very exciting.

I got home and rushed to take a shower.  Afterwards I closed the door to my room to open up the new payment.  This may have been the greatest set yet.  Patti had given me three pairs of matching satin panties in baby blue, royal, and navy.  They had a lace trim around the waistband and lace trim around the legs.  I wrapped the royal blue panties around my cock and held the other pairs in my hand to fondle my nuts as I stroked myself into bliss.  I spent a half-hour changing back and forth between the different shades of blue and thinking about the scene when Patti, a very attractive woman, handed me the panties with an understanding smile.  I kept the though of her smiling at me as I squirt a shot of come onto my chest.

“Great, now I have to take another shower,” I said to myself.

I went to sleep that night with the navy blue panties I got from Patti.  It was the first night that I had gone to bed wearing women’s panties.  It would not be the last.

The following morning I decided to wear the royal blue panties to classes.  I had three morning classes that day, and I would be out by noon.  All morning long I struggled to pay attention to what my professors were talking about, but it was hard to concentrate with my cock straining against the satin fabric.  I wondered if women always walk around in this state of arousal.


Will Work for Panties Ch. 01



That week I waited for a call from Aunt Sherrie.  I wanted to ask her why she told Patti about my secret.  I was not upset with her; how could I be?  I just wanted to know why she had told Patti.

An entire week went by before Aunt Sherrie did call me.  I asked her about Patti, and she said that sisters share everything.  If I could trust her I could also trust Patti.

“Do you like the panties that she gave you?” she asked.

“Well, yeah.  They were great.”

“Good, then there isn’t a problem.”

“No, Auntie.  I guess there isn’t,” I answered.

“Great.  By the way, my sister Bambi needs someone to do some landscaping work around the house this week.  Are you interested?” she asked me.

“Well, is she going to wind up giving me panties, too?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.

“She will if you take the job,” she said.

That weekend I found myself over at Aunt Sherrie’s younger sister Bambi’s house laying down sod and mulch.  I pruned shrubs.  I raked clippings.  I did one hell of a good job if I do say so myself.

The whole time I was working I was thinking about just what Bambi was going to give me.  Would it be panties, or would she give me a thong?  What colors would they be?  What were her tastes in panties?  What kind of fabric would they be?  My mind just raced with questions.  I felt like a big girl.

Bambi would come out from time to time and offer me something to drink, but she was preoccupied with taking care of the children.  Her husband had to work that day so she was left alone with the kids.  She left for a little while to take them to the playground, but she came back within the hour and asked how I was doing.

“Well, I’ve just about finished everything that you needed done,” I told her.

“That’s just great.  Why don’t you go inside and I’ll get you your panties?”

Man, that was blunt.  I wondered if the kids heard what she said.  I doubt it as they were in the other room with the television blaring.  I couldn’t help but get instantly aroused by her bluntness; she just tossed that one out there.  To this day I am amazed at how casually she treated the whole situation.

Bambi came back with a small plastic bag and lay it down on the kitchen table.

“Here you go, Vincent.  Why don’t you go clean up before you leave?”  She offered the laundry room to me.

I washed my hands in the big sink, and Bambi came up to me and put out another blunt statement.

“So, you’re turned on by panties, huh?”  Again, no delicateness about the topic as Sherrie and Patti had demonstrated.  Bambi was different than her older sisters; the youngest, she was also the most aggressive.

“Well…” what the hell was I supposed to say to her?

“It’s okay.  I know all about that.  I do have some experience with it you know.”

Patti had made the same statement to me earlier, but I didn’t give it any thought until now.  Just what did they mean by that?

I walked back to the kitchen and took the bag.

“Check them out,” Bambi said.  “See if you like them.”

I opened the bag and saw a black string bikini and a black thong with lace all around the edges.  They were beautiful.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“Well … yes,” I said with more than a little embarrassment.

“But?” she offered.

“But, I usually get three pairs.”

“Oh, do you?  Well, I guess I’ll just have to go get you another pair.  Wait here and I’ll be right back.”

Bambi left the room to retrieve the other pair from her bedroom.  When she returned she started to speak, but one of the kids popped out from the living room into the kitchen to get a glass of soda.

“I hope that these will do.  I only got you two pair, so I had to get these from my own drawer,” she continued as the little rug rat left the room without paying us any attention.  That was the tensest moment for me.  Bambi didn’t even slow down when the kids were around.

“Thank-you,” I said to her as she handed me a red thong trimmed in black lace.  I paused, “Thank-you very much.”

“Well, thank-you for doing all that yard-work.  I’ve been on my husband’s back for weeks to get it done, but he is always busy.”

We said our final goodbyes and I drove home still reeling by Bambi’s bluntness and the fact that I almost got discovered by one of her kids.  I knew I’d have to talk to Aunt Sherrie about this the next time she called.  For now I was content to get home and wrap these beautiful thongs around my member to jerk-off.

That evening I prepared a little ritual for myself that I have since conducted several times.  I laid out each pair of panties that Aunt Sherrie and her sisters had given me for all the jobs that I had done for them.  There were now 15 pairs of panties in all, and I hardly knew where to begin.  Black thong or heart panties; blue lace trimmed panties or pure white nylon; pink French cut or rainbows – there were so many choices.  I wrapped the red thong that Bambi had given me that day around my cock and stood over my bed admiring all the panties laid out before me.  After a while I put down the red thong and picked up the baby blue panties that Patti had given me.  I alternated a few times that night before working myself up to another ejaculation.

I went to sleep that night wearing Bambi’s red thong.  Life was certainly good.

*	*	*

“Hello, Vincent.”

“Yes.”

“It is Auntie.  How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine.  How is everything over there?”

“Just great.  Say I was talking to Bambi yesterday and she said that you did a marvelous job on the yard.”

“Well, thank her for me.”

“I think that you can thank her yourself.”

“How?”

“I want you to come over Friday at eleven o’clock.  Can you make it?”

“Well, I think I can.  I don’t have any classes on Friday, so I guess I can come over.  What’s up?”

“Well, there is something I want you to do for me.  I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll bet that Bambi really shook you up when she paid you the other day.”

“Yeah, she scared the crap out of me.”

“She told me the story.  She said you were cute the way that you got all flush when she blurted out that she was going to give you panties.”

“I didn’t think that she’d do that.”

“Did you think it was a big secret or something?”

“Well, no.  You told me that she knew.”

“Don’t worry.  Bambi can be tactless.  Anyway, I’ll plan on seeing you Friday at noon.  Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be over.”

“Great.  There is just one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to wear your favorite pair of panties when you come over.  Bye, bye.”

Click.  She hung up the phone.

“Why the fuck does she want me to wear panties to her house?” I thought to myself.

I guessed that the answer would be revealed on Friday.



Will Work for Panties Ch. 02



I had spent a night in aggravated sleep. Sleep? Let's call it tossing and turning from side to side. Let's call it staring at the ceiling in the dark. Let's call it anything except sleep. Sleep denotes restfulness, but I was anything but restful. I was agitated. I was nervous.

Two days earlier I had a brief conversation with a very special aunt, my uncle Donald's wife. She was a woman who seemed very understanding about the quirks that a young man has in his developing years. She had once caught me raiding her hamper during a holiday at their house. Aghast at first, she soon proved to be very understanding and even helpful in coming months. 

I have a panty fetish. Aunt Sherrie not only talked to me about it, she even fed my habit. For doing some odd jobs for her around the house she had rewarded me on three occasions with payment in panties. Sounds odd? How about this: she got her two sisters in on the act. I did jobs for them and they too paid me in glorious panties. Now Aunt Sherrie wanted me to come by her house, and she wanted me to wear my favorite pair of panties.

I know this all sounds bizarre. I would not believe it myself if it hadn't happened to me, but here I am living this incredible story for almost a year. Now I was only a few hours away from having to show up at Aunt Sherrie's house wearing my favorite pair, and I couldn't sleep. I spent a night tossing and turning trying to figure out which panties to wear.





Will Work for Panties Ch. 02



I may have gotten myself a little greasy and dirty, but after a few hours of loving attention to these vehicles I knew that each of these women would be driving down the street in the shiniest, cleanest cars on the road; frankly they didn't deserve anything less. Beautiful women in beautiful cars, now that's America.

When I finished I went inside Sherrie's house wash myself. I had totally lost myself in the job and didn't realize how late in the day it was. Patti and Bambi came outside to see how I had done and they were both very happy. Bambi gave me a pat on the back before saying goodbye to both Patti and myself; she said that my aunt was inside getting ready to go out. 

After Bambi pulled out and drove off Patti spent a moment with me.

"Thanks for doing such a good job Vincent."

"It's no problem at all. Especially not for you, Patti."

"That's sweet of you to say. I hope you enjoy what is inside in the bag."

"I'm sure I will."

Patti gave me a little kiss on the cheek before leaving causing my heart stop jump. I went back into the house and cleaned up in the bathroom. After I dried clean I went back into the living room and saw Aunt Sherrie was coming out of her bedroom. She was dressed to kill in a short black skirt and black blouse with a low plunging lace neckline.

"Well, you'd better get going home soon. Your uncle is going to be getting home in a little while. We're going out with my brother and his wife. I have something for you here, of course."

I stood in the middle of her living room. She picked up the bag from the corner next to the sofa and motioned for me to sit down next to her. As she sat she crossed her legs, which gave me a great view of her calves. She was very sexy.

"I think that everything went well today. You seemed very comfortable talking to us. I'm so glad that you trust us, Vincent."

"Well, it's nice to have someone to talk to. Patti was right, I do get a little confused sometimes with who I am, but you all have been so good to me. Thanks a lot."

"Patti likes you," she said it like a schoolgirl teasing someone. It was intentional.

"Well, I like her too," I swallowed hard. I felt like a schoolboy being teased.

"Do you have a crush on her?" again with the teasing.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, so I do."

Aunt Sherrie just grinned at me and handed me the bag.

"Here you go, sweetie. There are nine pairs in all, three from each of us. I'll bet you can guess who bought which pairs."

"I think I'm beginning to understand all of your tastes."

"We went to a little boutique that we have been shopping at for years. They sell a lot of imported lingerie. Most of these are from France. In fact I think they all are. That may be why they looked so different to you."

"Thank-you. I guess you're learning my tastes too," I said.

"Well, we have some experience with this after all."

There was that sentence again. The first time that Bambi and Patti had each given me payment in panties for jobs that I did for them they said the same thing to me. Now I needed to ask a question that had been rolling around in the back of my mind for months.

"Auntie, what do you mean by that? Patti and Bambi each said the same thing before. What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say that once upon a time someone very close to us confided in us that he had the same fascination that you have. We teased him at first and it caused a problem, a big problem. When we apologized and told him that we would support him, things got better. It was important for him to have someone to trust. That is just what I want for you. Okay?"

"Well, okay. I understand. You have been great to me. I love you, Auntie."

"I love you too, honey. Now it's time to go. Your uncle and I are going out in a little while."





Will Work for Panties Ch. 03



In the several weeks following my interview with my aunt Sherrie and her sisters, Patti and Bambi, things sort of went into cruise control. I was entrenched in studies during my sophomore year in college, and I was also busy with an after hours job to help pay my way. To all outward appearances I was a typical college student just trying his hardest to earn good grades, make a little money, and put myself in a position to get a good job after my eventual graduation.

Of course there was this other little factor that was happening also. A little thing that precious few people in this world knew about, and I wanted to keep it that way. I’m not ashamed to say it now, but I was just a little panty freak. I have this panty fetish. Nothing gets me turned on more than a sexy pair of women’s panties. The sexier or more exotic they are, the more aroused I get.

Best of all, I had this incredible source of panties: my aforementioned Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters. The interview - as I came to call it - took place several weeks earlier. It basically involved my giving the ladies a summary of what I liked to do with the panties that they had given me for doing several jobs around their houses. These were typical handyman things that any trained chimpanzee could do. It just gave them the opportunity to help me along. Talking about my sexual proclivities with the ladies’ undergarments was the most erotic experience of my life up to that time.

I had always wondered why they would do something that most people would consider weird, if not a little disturbed. My Aunt had told me that I reminded them of someone close to the three of them who had a similar issue, and that they found the need to be supportive. She did not tell me who it was or elaborate more on the story, and I thought that she was protecting someone’s privacy as she had protected mine. She had given me support and understanding and love, and there wasn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for her.

The winter had come slowly that year, but when it did arrive it hit hard. By the end of a late January storm there was so much snow on the ground that the weathermen had lost track of how much had fallen. They didn’t need rulers to measure it anymore they needed yardsticks. All that crystallized moisture on the ground needed to get moved somehow. Fortunately for my aunt and her sisters they had a willing helper at the ready.

I had arranged with my Aunt Sherrie and her older sister Patti to plow and shovel around their houses. Bambi was too far away, and her husband was home to take care of the snow removal anyway. I talked with both Sherrie and Patti the night before the snow really hit, and we arranged the same price of three pairs of panties for services rendered.

By this time in my relationship with these women the whole issue of payment in panties had become a running joke. They all knew that if any of them called me for any reason that I would be all too glad to drop whatever I was doing and help them, panties or not. Patti specifically had a special place in my heart, and I accepted that I would do back flips for her at her request. While all three women had been understanding with me, and while I certainly felt an attraction to each of them, I thought that I connected with Patti on a different level.

Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, I woke up with strong morning wood. I was aroused and wanted to tend to my first erection of the day, so I grabbed a fistful of panties from their drawer and placed them on the bed in a pile. I knelt in front of the panties on the bed and one by one began to rub them around my hard-on. I went through the thongs and bikinis first and eventually got to the more sophisticated fare that had come from the French Boutique, a lingerie shop where Aunt Sherrie and her sisters shopped.

I held my cock in the pink tap pants that Patti had bought while rubbing my chest with the mauve panties that Aunt Sherrie gave me. This was a favorite combination of mine. My penis was rigid as I graced the silk pink tap pants around and around the most sensitive parts of my groin. Then I decided to try something new.

I emptied the entire drawer of panties onto the pile on the bed. I placed the copper thong on the pillow at the head of my bed, and thrust my cock into the pile of panties beneath me. I called it a panty fuck. There I was on the bed thrusting my hips into a pile of nylon and silk, a virtual panty pussy. It was exquisite.

My fantasies took over. I thought about Bambi, a beautiful woman with a big mouth who never hesitated to cause a stir. It was she who bought the copper thong that lay undisturbed on my pillow. As I fantasized about grinding my cock into her pussy I leaned forward and pushed my face into the thong, rubbing my face around it. I thought about what it might feel like to fill her big mouth with my cock, knowing how much she loved cocks and all.

Then I switched scenarios and thought about Patti. Patti was a loving and supportive woman who held my hand throughout the interview with her and her sisters. I felt excited sitting next to her on the sofa in my aunt’s living room and often played out a fantasy of her guiding my hand to her own panties. She would take one finger at a time from my hand and rub her pussy through her own silk underwear.

I fantasized that Patti leaned back on the sofa, with Sherrie and Bambi watching, and guided my hand as she masturbated herself with my fingers. As she rubbed my hand between her legs I would start to feel her panties getting wet. Using my palm as a sex toy, she would guide it inside her panties as she stroked herself to climax with my hand. I always imagined her wearing a pair of virgin white tap pants since she said they were her favorite.

As my arousal grew I was careful to break for a brief moment and put a condom on myself. I had started donning the rubber as a way of preserving my precious panties from spillage.

That done I returned to my panty fuck and imagined that I was penetrating my Aunt Sherrie. She was the one who had gotten the whole ball rolling for me. From the day that she caught me raiding her hamper to arranging this whole relationship with her sisters, I knew that I owed the position that I was in at the moment to her. I fantasized about thrusting my cock into her pussy, her panties pulled to the side to allow me access to her sex. She would wrap her long sexy legs around my body as I continued to thrust into her.

I fantasized about leaning back slightly and raising one of her legs up to my shoulder. I gave myself quite a mental image: there I am sliding my cock into her pussy while gently stroking her panties with my free hand. In and out, back and forth, up and down.

The tension mounted so much that I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. Rather than fight the urge to come I just bucked my body into the pile of lingerie faster and harder until I exploded a shot of come into the condom. It was nice and sanitary. It also drained my balls of semen. I learned one thing that morning: a panty fuck is fun.

Now I had to straighten up things and get ready for some work.

***

The storm had ended on a Tuesday. That left the beginning of the week for us to shovel and plow our way to freedom. For anyone living in warmer climates snow is just something that they have in the mountains for skiing. For those of us living in harsher winter climates it weighs us down and tests our will; how long can you shovel until you snap?

I plowed Patti’s house first. Her kids were home from school and they built a snowman in the front yard. Her brother Brian was over to lend a hand as well. It was a big task because their house was on a corner lot had a lot of frontage to the street, and a city ordinance clearly stated that the property owner was responsible for all snow removal within 24-hours of the end of a storm or else it was a $50 fine. We had to clear out her entire driveway, the sidewalk in front of her house, and the walkways all around the house. The plow didn’t fit in some areas, so I had to take care of those by hand shovel. It was a heavy wet snow that weighs a shovel down and doesn’t clear off easily. It was almost more work to get the snow off the shovel than it was to pick up the snow itself.

As I worked with Brian we had a little chat.

“So, how are things going at school, Vincent?” he asked.

“Just fine I guess. I have this one professor who is a real asshole. He never shows up to classes and has a research assistant doing all his classroom work for him. It makes me wonder what the hell I’m paying for,” I said.

“Yeah, my wife’s sister complains about the same thing too. It seems to be a common problem these days. She’s at City University.”

That caught my attention. “Oh yeah? That’s where I go.”

“Yeah I know. Sherrie told me that. She asked me if I’d introduce you two. She isn’t seeing anyone, and Sherrie thought that you two might hit it off.”

I pondered an introduction to a real girl. Damn, that seemed scary. But Aunt Sherrie had told me before that I needed to get out and circulate more. I had avoided doing that, but she had stayed on my back about it. She even hinted that she could do something to help. This must be what she had in mind.

“Well, I guess I don’t have any problems meeting a pretty girl,” boy was that a fucking lie.

“Great, then I’ll give you her phone number. I already spoke to her, so you won’t totally surprise her by calling tonight. She is pretty, too”

Patti came out to the front door as we finished the last of the shoveling.

“Do you two want something to warm up?” she called to us.

“No,” Brian called back. “None for me. I have to get going.” Then her turned to me and handed me a piece of paper with a name and number on it. “Here you go, Vincent. Give her a call tonight and see what happens.”

Brian left, and I went inside to take Patti up on her offer.

“Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“Yes, please,” I answered. 

I took the cocoa and some cookies, and I sat down at the kitchen table. Patti looked out the window to check on her children who were making a snowman that looked like he needed a chiropractor. It tilted to the left.

“I have something for you here,” she said. She took out a familiar sized package from a drawer in the kitchen and handed it to me. I put in my pocket with the ease of a mobster receiving protection payments from the local merchants.

“Thank-you,” I said. “Patti, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Well, when Sherrie first told you about me, you know, when she first told you about my fetish…did you think that I was weird or something?”

She paused for a moment and contemplated an honest answer.

“I thought that you were kinky.”

“Kinky?” I asked.

“Yeah, kinky. Like you have some sexual tastes that run to the untraditional. I was kind of surprised at first that she was talking about you, but not about your fetish.” It seemed like an honest answer.

“So why have you, you yourself been willing to go along with this. Why have you been, ah, paying me this way?”

“Because kinky can be nice,” she giggled.

“Come on, tell me the truth,” I countered.

“That is the truth, sweetie.” She paused and then leaned forward and took my hand. “Sherrie wanted to help you, and she asked Bambi and me for support. Support for you. She thought that if a few women helped you understand your desires that you would be able to deal with them. It’s all about having a healthy respect for yourself and being able to keep the things that turn you on in context.”

“But, I’ve told you what I do with these panties. Some people would find that really bizarre. You all just accepted it,” I said.

“Listen, right now you are just experimenting. It feels great and you’re having a lot of fun. Right?”

“Right,” I was unsure of my answer.

“You will learn, in time, to enjoy this fetish or any others that you may have within the context of a healthy relationship.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

“Trust me I know so. I’ve seen this before and it turned out to be okay for everyone involved.”

Patti was hinting to some experience that my Aunt Sherrie and her sisters had with someone close to them. Somewhere along the line they had encountered this fetish before. Each had hinted to it long ago, and my aunt told me without much detail that this was not uncharted territory for them.

“Being turned on by something inanimate is one thing,” she continued, “but being turned on by a living, breathing woman is another. When you can carefully combine the one with the other life is really going to be fun.”

“Do you have any fetishes?” I asked.

“I sure do.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” I asked thinking it was all a bit unfair that she wouldn’t tell me.

Patti leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Because you might not be able to handle it.”

I felt myself staring blankly at the refrigerator door after that response. I squeezed her hand thoughtlessly, and then felt her squeeze back. I let it go at that and finished off my cocoa and cookie before springing another question.

“Patti, can I tell you something personal?”

“More personal than what you’ve already shared?” she asked jokingly.

“Yeah, all kidding aside. This is serious.”

“Sure Vincent, you can tell me anything.”

“You’re my favorite.” 

Those four words were harder to get out of my mouth than anything that I had ever said to this woman. Months ago I had sat on a sofa in my aunt’s living room and described in graphic detail the manner in which I used the panties these women had given me to masturbate. I talked about my favorite panties, and I even wore a pair as I sat in that room talking to them. But this confession of feelings for Patti was a hundred times more difficult.

Patti smiled at my confession and squeezed my hand once again.

“I’m flattered,” she replied. 

It just sort of hung in the air like that for a second. I was looking her right in the eyes at this point, and I felt my heart pounding like the beat at a hip-hop concert. My penis was responding also. That troublemaker was straining inside my pants and left me no maneuverability. After a pause that was a bit uncomfortable for me I threw out one more piece of personal information.

“Patti, you’re my favorite fantasy.”

That caught her off guard. She squeezed my hand and smiled a little nervous smile. She also seemed to get slightly teary eyed, but it didn’t last long.

“Well, that really is flattering. Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said in a voice little more than a whisper. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears.

A few more awkward moments passed and I decided that it was time to get more work done. Patti saw me to the door as I put on my coat. I tried to zip it up, but the zipped got stuck.

“Here, let me help you. It happens to my children all the time.” And she loosened the zipper and closed my coat all the way. The she straightened my collar a little and brushed the coat out with her hands.

“Remember Vincent, anytime you need to talk I’m always here.”

“Sure, I know.”

“And thank-you for sharing your secret today. I think that is very sweet.”

She kissed me on the cheek, and I got flush all over.

We said goodbye to each other and I left Patti’s house. As I passed by the children in the front yard I got hit with a snowball in the back of the head. A brief battle ensued that pitted the forces of good, me, against the forces of evil, Patti’s children who had just thrown about ten snowballs my way landing in the driveway I had worked so hard to clear. Aunt Sherrie’s house was next.

My Uncle Donald was in the driveway already plowing. I got out, said hello, and started shoveling in the few places where he had left snow.

There’s hardly any snow left. That son of a bitch is going to cheat me out of a day’s wages.

After what few flakes had remained on their property I was informed that we were obliged to help out his elderly neighbors across the street; two more houses in addition to my uncle’s. No wonder he wanted to get such an early start. The plowing was easy enough, but there was a layer of ice underneath left over from previous snowfall that hadn’t been properly cleared. The ensuing task of chipping away the ice by hand so that these people would not slip and break a hip was tedious, but after about two hours of chipping and building calluses we were finished.

We were welcomed inside the house by my aunt and the children who were just getting dressed for what seemed to be an arctic expedition. In reality the kids were going to go sledding.

“Do you two want anything to warm up?” my aunt asked.

“Yeah,” said Uncle Donald, “how about some coffee?”

“Vincent, do you want coffee?” she asked.

“Do you have any hot chocolate? Coffee makes me jumpy.”

“Sure we do.”

We sat at the table for a few minutes downing copious amounts of hot fluid and chocolate cookies. After gulping down his third cup, my uncle rose and ordered the children out of the house and down the street. My aunt said that she was waiting for a phone call, and that she would join them in a little while. Actually it was an elaborate ruse to pay me in my preferred choice of currency and have a brief conversation once my uncle left with the kids.

“So long you little rug rats,” I called out, teasing them.

“Well, it’s nice to see how you win friends and influence people,” my aunt teased me.

“Yeah, I’m a regular Andrew Carnegie.”

“I think you mean Dale Carnegie,” she corrected me. “Wait a minute. I’ll be back in a second. Wait for me in the living room”

She left the room and I went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Aunt Sherrie returned with a small shopping bag that I recognized it as coming from the French Boutique.

“Here you are,” she handed me the bag and sat down next to me on the sofa. I put it by my side.

“Aren’t you going to open it up and see what I bought you?” she asked.

“Oh, sure. Sorry.”

I opened the bag and took out three pair of French cut panties each trimmed in lace of the same color. They each had a floral pattern of sorts stitched into them, and they were all very silky. One pair was a deep navy blue, another pair was magenta, and the third pair was black. The last pair reminded me of the sort of panties that a French maid might wear. They were all quite beautiful and I laid them on my lap; that caused my penis to react.

“Thank-you very much,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Patti bought the really pretty colors this time around.”

“Oh, I didn’t check the ones that she bought me. I left them in the car.”

“Well, that’s no way to treat the panties she gives you,” she gave me a little reprimand. “Now go out to your car and get your panties.”

I ran out to the car quickly, slipped on a stray piece of ice that my asshole uncle didn’t move with the snow blower, and landed right on my butt. I picked myself up with the most dignity that I could muster, took the panties Patti bought me out of the car, and returned to the house limping.

“What happened to you,” Aunt Sherrie asked.

“I think I just broke my coccyx.”

“We’ll have to get you a codpiece instead of panties next time.”

“No, no. I said coccyx.”

“Bambi will be terribly disappointed that you broke your coccyx. You know how much she loves them.”

“I said coccyx. You know, the tailbone.”

“Your bone will never get any tale with a broken coccyx,” she teased. She couldn’t contain her laughter at this point and we both started laughing. Aunt Sherrie put her hand on my knee while trying to compose herself over our rather stupid joke, and my cock – yes my cock – jumped with excitement. I don’t know if it was her hand on my knee or the dirty joke that she had just made, but I was excited.

“Let’s see what we have here,” she said after shaking out the silly laughter.




Will Work for Panties Ch. 03



The first pair of panties I took out was a pair of silver tap pants, Patti’s favorite thing to wear. I laid them on my lap and took out the second pair, a pair of pastel blue tap pants. Sherrie took those and held them in her hand.

“I think these are just beautiful,” she said. “Patti has such good taste.”

“I think so too,” I replied.

The final pair of panties were a thing to behold. It was an elegant thong with material that flowed from the center of the garment. It was a deep rich burgundy color embossed with a gold paisley pattern.

“Oh, I really like these,” I said. I also felt more pressure in my loins at this point.

“Yes, I bought a pair just like these for myself when Patti picked these out for you.”

“You’re going to wear a pair like this?” I asked.

“Does that sound so surprising? You aren’t the only one who likes to wear sexy underwear you know.”

“Well yeah, I figured that, I mean I knew, you know, that you probably…” I stammered in my most eloquent manner.

“Girls get just as turned on as boys you know,” she replied.

“Well yeah, it’s just that, I didn’t mean to say, it was just that…” Fuck, someone please shoot me.

Aunt Sherrie leaned close to me and put her lips right by my ear.

“Just calm down a little,” she advised. “I think you need a moment to compose yourself.”

I did. The mental image of my aunt wearing the very type panties that I saw laying in my lap coupled with the overtone of the conversation was more than a young man can handle. My cock was throbbing at this point, taking so much blood from my brain that I was actually a little lightheaded. It was only after a moment’s respite that I noticed my aunt looking at me in a funny way. She wasn’t looking at me so much as the bulge in my pants. Then she noticed me noticing her notice my bulge.

“Like anything you see?” I asked flippantly.

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

“What?” I said.

“Oh, let’s just drop it,” she trailed off and shifted her position next to me to pull away.

“No, no,” I said. “I want to know what’s up. I think there’s something going on here.”

“Vincent, we all have our little fetishes. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” I complained. “Here I am sitting with a half-dozen panties in my lap because you know so much about my fetish and I don’t know anything about anyone else. Patti said she had hers, but she won’t tell me, and now you’re concealing yours. Come on, fess up.”

Aunt Sherrie put her hand on my knee and squeezed hard. My cock throbbed.

“Okay, Bambi isn’t the only one who likes cocks,” she confessed.

“So, you’re a woman and you like men’s … sexual organs,” I said delicately, “What is so kinky about that?”

She squeezed my knee again and my cock twitched almost with a mind of it’s own.

“What I like is the bulge they make in men’s pants when they get big,” she squeezed again. “Like yours is now.” More squeezing.

“Oh-ho.”

“You were really turned on the day that you sat with us and told us all about your activities with the panties.”

“Ye-yeah,” I was becoming incoherent again.

“Well, you aren’t the only one who got something out of it that day. I did too. Your bulge was so big that I couldn’t stop looking at it. You went home and played with yourself that day. I waited for your uncle to come home and I jumped his bones. By the way, thank-you.”

And with that she gave me a tiny little kiss on the cheek.

“So you’re saying that . . . what?” I stuttered

“I’m saying that as a woman there are certain things that turn me on. One of those things is a nice big bulge in a man’s trousers. It’s kind of like the reaction that you get from handling panties.”

“And, are you having that reaction right now,” I asked.

“Yes,” she smiled. “But don’t get your hopes up buster.”

“So when did you first notice your fetish?” I inquired.

“Well, let’s see. When I was in high school I noticed that some of the boys walked around in a perpetual state of arousal. I felt sorry for them all, they didn’t have any control over themselves. My girlfriends and I would play a little game about seeing who we could get to squirm the most. We might go up to some lowly freshman in the library and get him all worked up by striking up an innocent conversation. We called it tenting; we wanted to see who we could get to pitch the biggest tent. You guys are all predictable: a little smile, a few bats of the eyelashes, and you’re all at attention.

“As time went on I found myself fantasizing about some of the cuter boys who had erections that they just couldn’t conceal.”

“So, that still gets you all worked up,” I said.

“Yes, of course. I’m married, not dead. Besides I decided long ago that I liked your uncle’s bulge the most. But I confess that I did indeed admire yours; it seems to run in your family. Now it’s time for you to go. I have to go see my children sledding. By the way did Brian give you that phone number?”

“Wh-wh-wha. Num-number? Wh-wha number?” My bulge? She was fucking turned on by my bulge? What fucking number is she talking about? Where the fuck am I?

“Hey,” she snapped her fingers in front of me to help me snap out of this trance I was in. “Did Brian give you that phone number? His sister, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Phone number. I’ve got it right here.” I pointed to my pocket.

“Good. Give her a call this week. Her name is Gail. You’ll like her. She’s pretty. Now go on home, okay.” She patted me quickly on the knee and almost caused me to come right there.

“Yeah, bye. Goodbye.” I floated off in a daze.

***

Sometimes it is best not to learn very intimate things about other people. This was not one of those times. Well, let me clarify that; the time it took me to drive from my aunt’s house back to mine could have been spent more productively. For instance, I could have been watching where I was going. If I had, I would have seen the light turn red, I would have stopped the car sooner, and I would have avoided the brief and financially costly conversation that I had with a traffic cop who issued me a fine for failure to stop on red. He seemed stern enough already, but if he only knew.

But officer, I had a really good reason for not stopping in time for that red light.

Oh really? Well let’s hear it.

Okay, I was just at my aunt’s house shoveling away the snow. And when I finished she gave me three pairs of panties, just like her sister had done earlier in the day because they both know that it is this really big fetish that I have. Actually their other sister knows too. And after I laid out these six pairs of panties in my lap my aunt started looking at the bulge that my hard-on was making and she told me all about this fetish of hers which is she likes looking at men’s erections through their pants and . . . hey, what are the handcuffs for?

I’m taking you down to the station, son. I think I want to check your name against the sexual offender registry.

Yeah, that would have been a scene.

So, several minutes and several dollars later I finally got home. The sun was setting by now, and the early winter sunset just set my mood perfectly. I cleaned up in the shower and got ready for some heavy-duty panty play. My erection never subsided from the time I left my aunt, even during my encounter with the traffic cop.

This time I never even touched the drawer with all my older panties in it. I went straight for the bag that had the new goodies. I took them all out and spread them over the bed, stroking myself all the while remembering the conversations that I had with both Patti and Aunt Sherrie. I was a nice rock solid hard when I took the magenta panties out and wrapped them around myself. I tried desperately to fantasize about Patti. I tried to think about what her secret fetish was, and how I could fit in to it. I thought about the kiss she had given me and how turned on it made me. But much as I desired the mental image of cuddling up in Patti’s bosom, suckling at her soft flesh while caressing her pantied bum I couldn’t stop thinking about Aunt Sherrie.

It was easiest to take the path of least resistance. All I could think about was the look on Aunt Sherrie’s face as she examined the rise in my pants. She had been looking at me like a piece of meat, and that thought turned me on even more. I thought about what she said, that I had made her so horny that she jumped my uncle for sexual release. That turned up my temperature also.

I fantasized about the day that the three women had me talk about my playtime with their soft and silky gifts. I drew the mental image of my aunt grabbing my uncle by the shirt collar and dragging him into the bedroom. I thought about how she might throw him to the bed and drape those long, sexy legs of hers over his body and dry hump his bulge, eventually burying his cock in her pussy.

Then I decided that all that was too good for him. As I stroked myself I wanted to think of Aunt Sherrie riding me. It was I, after all, who turned her on that day. It was I whom she had been looking at today, lustfully. I thought about Aunt Sherrie wearing the maroon and gold thong that Patti had bought for me. I pictured her straddling my body, her thong pulled slightly to the side to allow my cock to ride up into her pussy. I thought about her breasts heaving as she rocked back and forth on my body, as she filled herself with the bulge that she had given me today.

I dropped the magenta panties and picked up the maroon and gold thong. Rubbing it all around my body I continued to stroke my cock and think about what she must have been like in high school. Did she ride any of the boys she turned on back then? Did she ever turn on a teacher and ride him? I had silly thoughts about her riding several members of the football team. But I always got back to the mental imagine of my beautiful aunt wrapping herself around me and giving me her passion.

I incorporated both Patti and Bambi at this point. I fantasized about them stroking my body with soft, silky panties as my aunt slowly rode my erection. I thought about them planting soft kisses on my skin as they caressed me through silk and satin fabric.

When I had all I could stand I decided to let myself release. I grabbed for a condom, the last one that I had, and put it on quickly. I continued stroking my cock with one hand while stroking my body with the magenta bikini with the other, building myself up to a feverish pace. Closing my eyes I leaned back on my bed, dropped the thong onto my face, and continued pounding away at my cock, building up each thrust with more and more force.

Finally I shot my load. I filled that condom with every drop of come that I could muster out of my cock. When I was done shooting everything I had I lay back on the bed and took the new thong in my hand and just gently pulled it back and forth across my chest. I just lay there thinking about everything that had been said that day. It was almost more than I could handle, but it was all so erotic that I just let my mind wander about Sherrie, and Patti, and Bambi, and … Oh crap! I totally forgot. I hope it isn’t too late.

***

“Hi, Gail? It’s Vincent, your brother’s sister’s husband’s nephew. Boy, that’s a hell of a roadmap.”

“Hi, how are you?”

“Just fine. So, Brian gave me your number and said that I could give you a call tonight. He said you go to City College also.”

“Yes, I’m a sophomore there.”

“Really. So am I. Maybe we’ve bumped into each other somewhere?”

“Maybe.”

“So, maybe we could get together this weekend.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. Would you like to go out this weekend?”



Will Work for Panties Ch. 04



I sat on the sofa in my Aunt Sherrie's living room between her and her sister Patti. Each of the women cuddled close to my body and took turns kissing me lightly on the cheeks, arousing me, exciting me. Patti unbuttoned my shirt while Aunt Sherrie slipped it down past my shoulders and let it rest behind my back at my elbows. I leaned back on the sofa and was trapped at the elbows, my arms almost immobile. 

The two women touched me, caressed me, probing my chest and shoulders and arms with their fingers, feeling my muscles. They took gentle kisses of my body – my chest, my shoulders, my abdomen - and smiled at me, enticing me with their seductive glances, making my heart pound faster. Their hands were warm, and they ran their fingers through the hair on my chest.

Aunt Sherrie was wearing a short red skirt and white blouse unbuttoned to her cleavage; a pair of red pumps finished off her outfit. She rose from her seat on the sofa and stood in front of me and turned her back to me bending over at the waist. She reached under her skirt, and without showing me anything but her legs, removed a pair of dark lavender elastic string bikinis. 

Returning to her seat next to me on the sofa she shifted her body to face me crossing her legs, highlighting the sexy outline of her calf. Aunt Sherrie placed my left hand between her thighs and trapped it between the warm flesh of her long, sexy legs. She silently rubbed her panties across my chest and neck, caressing me through the soft silky lavender fabric. She continued to kiss my body, and my breathing quickened.

As my aunt stroked me with her panties, Patti rose from her seat. Patti is very curvy with full hips and an ample bosom. She was wearing a flattering blue dress that was cut low in the front and had a slit that ran up the side. She also bent over to pull off a pair of dark blue French cut panties, and as she did she flashed me a peek of her white garters that connected to the nude stockings that she wore with her black high heels. 

Patti sat next to me again and stroked her panties across my abdomen and up to my nipples, then on to my neck and face. Patti took my right hand in her left and held it close to her bosom easing my nervousness, but not my arousal. Our fingers intertwined, and she kissed me on the lips and caressed my cheek with her panties never saying a word.

My penis was rock hard all through their attentions to my body. I felt tightness in my jeans as my hardened cock was struggling to spring free from the awkward angle in which it was bent, but I was helpless to do anything. My face was warm - hot actually - from my rising temperature. The unfamiliar sensation of two beautiful women sensually working me over was intense enough to make my hard cock throb powerfully. 

Aunt Sherrie had now turned her attention entirely to my chest. She probed at my sensitive nipples with her fingernails through the fabric of her panties and increased my excitement. Sherrie began sucking at my left nipple. She grabbed a fistful of my chest hair and pulled at it. I broke away from Patti's kiss to exclaim, to moan actually, but she continued pulling. I didn't really want her to stop. 

After my cry of pleasurable pain, Patti returned to my lips. Patti softly locked her mouth around my lower lip and carefully sucked on it. Her mouth was warm and moist, and she lingered on my lip as she kissed me deeply. She rubbed her blue panties across my neck and down to my chest. She too pulled at my chest hair and pinched a nipple. I moaned into her lips.

Aunt Sherrie shifted her legs and rubbed my hand between them. I tightened my grip on her thigh as she did this, as I wanted to feel her warm, soft skin. I tried to slide my hand upwards towards her pussy, but she stopped me by squeezing her legs together.

"No," she whispered softly in my ear. They were in control, not me.

My hand, trapped between her thighs, felt her warmth. Her thigh muscles were firm, and her skin was smooth, freshly shaved. Every nerve ending in my hand seemed to stretch itself in order to enjoy the full experience of her soft, warm flesh.

Sherrie nibbled on my earlobe and used both of her hands to play with my nipples. With her panties in one hand she gently caressed my right nipple with her fingernail, but with her other hand she aggressively pinched my left nipple. I moaned again into Patti's mouth.

My erection was harder now. My cock strained in its position and pressed out against my trousers. However, I felt something pressing back. Something was pushing down on my cock creating more of the unbearable pressure I was experiencing. Patti had my face locked into her panty-clad hand, so I could not move to look down. Sherrie had both of my nipples under control and chewed and licked at my earlobe.

I felt my belt being unfastened, and then my pants. Someone was slowly unzipping my jeans and reaching inside for my cock. I felt warm fingers tiptoe their way into my pants and pull out my hard penis; it brought relief in that it removed my cock from an awkward position, but fear as well since I did not know who was stripping me bare. Now the warm hands were pulling my jeans down over my hips and then my legs. Now they were brought to my knees and then to my ankles. The warm hands caressed my thighs up to my groin and grabbed my cock firmly.

Patti pulled back from my lips just long enough to allow me to see her sister Bambi silently squeezing and pumping my engorged tool. I struggled for air among the women: erotic claustrophobia. Bambi took command of my cock, kneeling on the floor between my legs, and pumped me mercilessly. Flogging my penis with her right hand, she pulled on my testicles with her left hand. I squirmed in place and groaned. I squeezed Aunt Sherrie's leg with one hand and Patti's hand with the other.

Bambi wrapped her lips around the head of my cock and sucked on it once very hard.

"Ahrgh," I moaned. I could not speak.

Bambi let go of my groin and stood in front of me as her sisters had. She was wearing a short black leather dress. It was shorter and tighter than either Sherrie's or Patti's, and it wrapped around her neck, exposing her bare shoulders. Bambi wore black fishnet stockings running down her legs to a pair of black pumps; the stockings ran up to her thigh just above the line of her skirt, and they stayed up without garters. She stood in front of me and removed her black satin thong.

Patti pulled my face back to hers to resume kissing me. She covered my face with her panties as she tilted me towards her, and I could smell the scent of her body on the fabric of her garment. She continued kissing me with long, succulent osculation. 

Sherrie was now sucking on my left nipple and rubbing her finger through her panties across my right nipple. My palpitations increased, and breathing was harder than ever.

Bambi tied the string of her thong around the base of my cock and under my testicles. Bambi loves cocks, and she trussed mine up and pulled slightly enough to be gentle yet hard enough to pull my organ up and display it.

"Pretty," she cooed. She wrapped her lips around the head of my penis and sucked and licked me while using her thong as a leash. She pulled the thong, and I raised my hips, but Aunt Sherrie pushed me back down and pinched my nipple hard through her panties.

Patti gave me few moments to break free and breath. After a quick breath of air she locked her lips into mine, and she held my face in her hand holding me in place again. I could feel the sensuous softness of her blue panties against my cheek, and again I could smell her body on them. Again she kissed me. She led with her tongue this time and probed my mouth. I responded by probing back into hers and our tongues glided together. I grasped her hand harder. Patti is my favorite.

Aunt Sherrie has long, sexy legs. She grinded my hand between her thighs. She rolled my nipple between her teeth and gently bit down for the first time. 

My heart raced faster than ever. Sweat beaded up on my forehead and dripped down my brow and into my eyes.

Bambi continued sucking and licking my penis. She pulled up on the thong and jerked my cock into her mouth, deeper. Bambi bobbed her head up and down with a quickening pace making rude sucking noises, and I knew that in a few moments this sensual torture would result in my climax.

Aunt Sherrie was now more aggressive with my nipple in her teeth, and she continued to pinch me through her panties. She sucked on my tit faster and harder making her own sloppy sounds, and a trickle of saliva slid past her lips and down from my chest. I could feel the saliva drip down my abdomen and down my side. 

Bambi was also dripping saliva from her mouth; it rolled down my cock and over my testicles. Bambi raised the pace of the blowjob that she was giving me and pulled harder on the leash her thong made around my sex. I could feel my cock straining like never before.

Patti continued to kiss me and probe my mouth with her tongue. My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear the thump-thump-thump in my ears; it began to drown out the sounds of Aunt Sherrie's sucking sounds. Breathing was almost impossible. Sweat rolled down my body. My nipple and cock were covered in saliva. Panties – soft, silky, feminine panties – were caressing my face and chest. Bambi pulled the groin of her thong over the head of my cock covering it and wrapped her mouth around me. Aunt Sherrie bit my nipple harder than before while simultaneously pinching my other nipple with her fingernails through her panties. I had lost all control.

"Grahhhh!" I exploded. I could feel a powerful burst of come surging through my cock and out to freedom. I lunged forth and gasped for air.

Then everything went black. I mean everything; I had virtually lost all senses. I gasped for air, but I could no longer feel the women's bodies. No Bambi sucking my cock. No Aunt Sherrie biting my nipple. No Patti kissing me. Nothing. Blackness. Emptiness.

Panic seized my mind. My eyes were wide open, but there was nothing but black space in front of me; perhaps I was blinded with hysteria. I flailed my arms in front of me, reaching for the women, but I could make no contact. I panicked, and I struggled for air.

I was hot and sweaty. I felt as if I were no longer sitting on the sofa. Instead, I felt as if I were floating. I felt horizontal. Another rush of panic gripped me.

Did I lose my mind? Am I blind? Why can't I breathe? Where are they? Why can't I feel them? The thoughts raced through my mind in a split second. I had so much fear and so few answers. I could feel a puddle in my lap.

In desperation I jolted my body one final time and gasped for one desperate breath of air.

"Arhhhhh," I breathed at last.

I clutched down and grabbed something beneath me; it was some type of cloth. I turned to the right and saw black. I turned to the left and saw a small light. It was numbers, blue numbers.

5:09

 

5:09. What? I'm, I'm…

Home. I'm home, in bed. My eyes adjusted to the light from my clock and I could make out some of the shapes in my bedroom. I sat up and felt a warm puddle shift in my lap. I reached over to the lamp next to my bed and turned it on. The quick flash of the light hurt my eyes at first, but the panic subsided and I could breathe at last.

Knock-knock-knock.

"Vincent, are you okay in there? Is everything alright?" my mother asked through the door.

"Yes," I paused. Was everything all right?

"What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Hardly.

"Yeah, something like that. I'm okay. You can go back to bed."

"Okay. As long as you're alright." She left. I could hear her walk away.

I looked down and saw a puddle of semen covering my abdomen and leg. The pink tap pants that I had worn to bed were soiled with my fluid. I jumped up and yanked them off. They were the precious tap pants that Patti had given me.

"Fuck it," I said under my breath, "I fucking ruined them. Fucking wet dream."





Will Work for Panties Ch. 04



"So, what do you think?" she asked me.

"They're very beautiful. Thank-you very much."

"Do you think they're sexy?"

"Yes, I do. They're incredible. I love them."

"Great. So, would you do something for me?"

"Sure, anything."

"Go put on a pair."

"What? Now?" I asked in astonishment.

"Please. Pretty please."

How could I say no to her? I went into the bathroom and pulled down my pants. I took off my own underwear and decided to put on the black and gold panties with the tassel. They were silk. I slid them on and tucked my penis and testicles into their very snug quarters. I put my pants back on, put my old underwear in the bag and went back into the living room to sit next to Aunt Sherrie.

"So, which ones did you put on?" she asked.

"The first ones," I answered. "The black ones with the gold design."

"Mmmm. I liked those best. See, our tastes are very similar."

"Oh, is that how you knew I'd like Gail?"

"No, that's how I knew she'd like you."

"Huh?" She had me puzzled.

Aunt Sherrie pulled herself close to me, wrapped her hands around my bicep, and whispered in my ear, "I told you before that I have some experience with these things."

I had no response; I just felt my cheeks blush.

"So," she continued, "do you have something to show me?" She squeezed my arm a little.

"Like what?" I imagined what she was going to say next. I was right.

"How about pitching a tent for me?" She leaned in close to my ear and whispered the words slowly, seductively. She was treating me like one of those lowly freshmen in high school that she and her girlfriends used to tease.

"I think I'm about to," I said.

"Good," she whispered again as she let go of my arm and rubbed the crotch of my jeans with her fingertips.

I never expected that. My cock responded immediately. I got hard – rock hard – almost instantly. Aunt Sherrie guided her long fingers over the crotch on my jeans and down between my legs. Then she stroked me in reverse. My unit was now so hard that I could feel it slip out of the satin material and it was lodged between my panties and my leg. It was the first time that Aunt Sherrie had ever touched me in any sexual manner.

"Ah, how's that?" I asked. I was very nervous. This was no dream.

"Mmm. It's very nice," she answered.

Aunt Sherrie just sort of sat next to me holding my arm in one hand. She stopped stroking my penis through my jeans and just sat there looking at the bulge in my pants. I had never taken the time to look at her while she was getting turned-on by my bulge since I had usually been oblivious to what turned her on, but this time I did. Her cheeks got flush, and her eyes just remained transfixed on the rise in my pants.

I got a little bold, realizing that I was turning on my sexy aunt. I stroked myself with my free hand. I rubbed the sensitive part of my penis, the part just under the head, with my finger. My cock responded and we could see the tent get slightly bigger. Aunt Sherrie gripped my arm a little tighter.

She pulled herself away after a few more moments.

"Thank-you, Vincent. I really think you should be going now."

Usually Aunt Sherrie will see me to the door, give me a compliment or some encouragement, perhaps a little kiss on the cheek, and send me on my way. This time she just sort of ushered me out in a hurry. As I walked to my car, my Uncle Donald pulled into the garage. I stopped to talk to him.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked.

"Well, I just came by to fill in auntie about my date with Brian's sister because she was so nice about fixing us up."

"Hey, that's good. I hope everything went well."

"Yeah, she's great. I like her a lot."

"By the way, thanks for helping with that insulation job. I'd been meaning to do that for a while, but I haven't had the time. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. Well I've got to be going. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, take in easy. Bye."

We shook hands and parted company. As I pulled away from the curb I saw him enter his house.

I wonder what's going to happen in there tonight.





Will Work for Panties Ch. 04



I stroked my cock with the pink panties thinking of my experience in the store. I remembered Madeline looking at me. She had resembled a hungry lioness salivating over a piece of meat. That's what I was to her, a piece of meat. My own meat was rigid.

I fantasized about her full bosom and full-figured hips, about the low neckline of her dress that revealed her white bra, and about the hemline that displayed her garters. I thought about her uncrossing her legs and giving me a peek of her own panties. If I had knelt down to pick something up, perhaps she would have uncrossed her legs and showed me her panties. I imagined her wearing lacy, white French cut panties. I imagined her taking them off and stroking my body with them.

My mind flashed to my Aunt Sherrie. She had actually groped me today; that was no fantasy. She just reached out and stroked my cock through my jeans with her fingers. Did she even know what she was doing? Why didn't she just unzip my pants? Why didn't she just pull out my member and stroke me? Wouldn't that have aroused her?

I fantasized about Aunt Sherrie doing just that, running her hand into my pants and caressing my member, and then pulling me on top of her and wrapping those long sexy legs of hers around my body. I wanted to feel the warmth of her pussy around my cock. I wanted her to squeeze her legs around me, tightly.

I thought about Patti. I could have spent an entire week with her in that store. The thought of all those sensual feminine garments, and Patti in the foreground made my cock twitch. I wanted to bury my face in her panties; bury myself between her legs.

But as I fantasized about all these older women, there was one thought that kept gnawing at me. As I looked at the second pair of tap pants that Patti had bought for me, all other thoughts abandoned my head. I put down the pink panties and picked up the others, the ones that reminded me of something.

These panties were a rich baby blue, even richer that the blue panties Patti had bought for me as payment for chores so long ago. These were silk and they shimmered with life. They reminded me of something very beautiful. They were the exact color of Gail's eyes.

I held those panties in my left hand and stroked myself with my right.

Gail. Gail. Now she was all I could think about: the brilliance of her baby blue eyes, the tight angora sweater that outlined her breasts, the curve of her figure as we skated and spent out date together. Beautiful Gail.

I continued fondling my cock and thinking about this sweet, beautiful girl. I thought about her long brown hair and the way it fell over her shoulders. I imagined kissing her full lips and holding her close to my body. My thoughts of her were romantic and sensual, not outright sexual. Why?

Eventually I was so stimulated that I came right in my hand. The panties were a safe distance this time; there was no damage. I didn't take the time to put on a condom, and the semen dripped down my fingers and into my lap. I sat there for a minute or two not panicking about the mess I made; I knew I could clean it up. I just wanted to stare at those blue panties.

They're exactly the same color as her eyes.



Will Work for Panties Ch. 05



Time flies when you’re having fun.  The second semester at college flew by quickly, and before I knew it spring had passed and summer had arrived.  Already two years down and two left to go; halfway to go to the real world.  Between school, holding down a part-time job, and building a relationship with my girlfriend there didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day.

I had been gaining experience in construction while working for a contractor.  We did general work, everything from finished carpentry to pouring concrete.  Weekends in the spring were hellacious since many of his suburbanite clients had wanted to do things like add patios, build extensions to their kitchens, and otherwise sink untold thousands of dollars into improving the value of their homes.  Thank goodness for a booming economy.

The boss was a good enough man, and he paid me well.  I had to be in the union.  That was fine even though I was only temporary help.  The wages were good enough to help me squeeze through school.  If only the union boys knew how I had arranged payment for work in the past.  They would probably pour concrete around me and bury me next to Jimmy Hoffa.

I am a panty fetishist.  Once upon a time – it seems so long ago now – I was caught red-handed raiding my aunt’s hamper looking for panties.  It was stupid.  I didn’t even lock the door to the bathroom where the hamper was located.  That was careless.  Ironically that embarrassing moment would lead to one of the oddest relationships that I could ever imagine.  One that allowed me to put my knack for backbreaking labor to constructive use yet still feed my fetish.

I began working for panties.  I didn’t hold a sign by the side of the road, and I certainly did not advertise in the local paper.  My client list was exclusive and payment is set at three pairs of women’s panties for every job that I did.  My client list consisted of my aforementioned aunt and her two sisters.  They had all been understanding of my rather odd quirk and respectful of my privacy.  I in turn probably performed somewhere in the neighborhood of $50,000 in labor around their homes combined.

Well, maybe not that much.

In addition to feeding my fetish, my aunt also got me together with her brother’s sister, Gail.  We both attended the same college, but in different programs.  We had been dating for about six months.  By the way, I fell for her like a ton of cinder blocks.

That said, I’ll continue.


*	*	*


The spring passed and the summer arrived.  My Aunt Sherrie’s sister, Patti, and her husband decided during the winter that they wanted to finish the basement to add two rooms to the house.  Both Patti and David, her husband, knew that they could rely on yours truly to provide much of the labor for that job.  David took for granted that I worked cheap, though he didn’t know how cheap.  Patti on the other hand knew my price exactly.

It took two entire weekends of starting early in the morning and finishing late in the evening to get the whole job completed.  Framing the walls and the floor, laying the proper insulation on the ground, and putting up the wallboard went fast enough on the first week.  We painted the walls and ceiling and laid the carpeting the following weekend.  

By the last day of the job I was alone in the basement admiring the completed job, wondering what goodies Patti would have in store for me.  She had the most elegant taste in panties.  Her favorite place to shop was a little lingerie store called The French Boutique, which was run by a woman who seemed to elevate the art of being sensuous to a science.

“Vincent, are you finished with the painting?” Patti called out to me from the to of the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m done.  I was just cleaning up.  It’ll take a while for the paint to dry, but the job is done at last,” I answered.

“Great.  You must be hungry.  Do you want a sandwich or something?” she asked.

“Sure, that’ll be great.”

I walked up the stairs to the kitchen and took the remaining paint and brushes to the garage.  By the time that I returned she had a chicken salad sandwich sitting on the table for me.

“You’d better wash your hands.  Here use the sink,” she said.

“Is David still around?” I asked

“No.  He’s talking to our neighbors telling them what a great job he did finishing the basement.”

“Wow.  What a prince,” I said sarcastically.  The fact was that her husband David was all thumbs and got in the way more than he helped.  In fact, if it hadn’t been for his “help” I would have finished the job in one weekend.  What the hell, it was his house.

I rinsed my hands off in the sink with a quick splash of water.  It was more ceremonial than anything.  I sat down at the table and reached for my sandwich.

We talked for a while about the work I had just completed in her basement and about how I was looking forward to my junior year in college.  The topic predictably got around to my relationship with Gail and how things were going between us.

“Pretty heavy,” was my initial reply.

“Oh, really?  How heavy?” Patti asked.

“We spend as much time together as possible with both of us holding down jobs in addition to schoolwork.  We often get together in the library to study.  It’s just too bad that she’s going away for the summer.  I miss her already.  I won’t get to see her for two months.”

“Will you talk to her?”

“Sure, I’ll call her all the time.”

“Well, that sounds pretty bland.”  Patti offered.

“Well, when we have free time that isn’t dedicated to studying we take advantage and get intimate, but we haven’t, you know, crossed that final threshold.  Know what I mean?”

“Oh well,’ she said, “there’ll be time enough for that.”

“I hope so.”  I took another bite out of my sandwich before continuing.  “The only thing that seems to stand in the way of my relationship with her is the fact that I’ve never told her about my fetish.  You, Sherrie, and Bambi are the only ones who know.”

“You haven’t mentioned your fetish to her?”

“No, how in the heck am I going to do that? ‘Gail darling, I have a little confession.  I’d like to get into your panties.  Well actually, besides sex, I’d like to get into your panties literally.’  That would be a scene.”

“You never know, she might be as kinky as you.”

“I don’t think so.  It’s like we start getting close one minute and then she backs off the next.  It isn’t like she doesn’t want to fool around or anything, it’s more like there’s something on her mind that interrupts her train of thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I feel like she’s hiding something, as if there’s something she wants to tell me but maybe she doesn’t trust me.  We’ve been together for months now, and I just don’t understand why she acts like that.  She knows how I feel about her; I tell her all the time.”

“If there is something that she’s keeping from you, it could be that she’s trying to figure out a way to tell you.  It might be that you’re misreading her feelings, Vincent.”

I sat in Patti’s kitchen for the last half-hour and just poured my guts out to her.  Patti was one of my closest confidants and the keeper of my own deeply held secret.  

“You know, this only becomes an issue when it looks like we might actually get around to some sex,” I confessed.  “I can start to cuddle up with her and try to make out, and she goes along and seems to enjoy it for a while, but if I try to get sexual she gets distant.  It’s almost like she’s afraid of getting turned on if I try to fondle her breast or something.  She shies away when I put my hands on her.  She keeps telling me that she’s into me and everything, but I can’t help feeling like there’s something going on way in the back of her head.”

“How long have you two been going out now?” Patti asked.

“Well, since January.  Six months,” I answered.

It had been six wonderful months since my Aunt Sherrie had asked her brother Brian to give me his sister’s phone number.  We hit it off from our first date, and soon we were a pretty hot item.

“It might still be too soon for her,” she advised.

“I’ve thought about that, and I’ve even asked her.  She just won’t open up to me.  I’m crazy for this girl.  I just don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe I could talk to her, just to try and get things from a woman’s point of view,” she offered.

“I can’t ask you to do that.  This is my problem to solve, if it is a problem.  It might just be my hyperactive imagination.”

“Yeah, well we all know what that means,” she said.

I nearly spit up the soda that I was drinking.  In fact I got a little backup of carbonation up my nostril when she made reference to a rather intense nocturnal event I suffered – okay, enjoyed – just around the time I met Gail.

“Oops, sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t want that to happen.”

“I just can’t believe that it’s anything more embarrassing than what I could tell her about myself,” I said.

“Well, maybe you have to tell her your secret before she tells you hers, if she has one,” she advised.

“Right, then after I tell her I have a hard-on for women’s underwear she tells me that she’s been thinking about becoming a nun,” I replied sarcastically.

“Well life is all about risks.  If you want to share in other people’s lives sometimes you have to open up first.  You admit that you’re sexually attracted to her and that you want to have sex with her, yet at the same time you’re concealing an important part of your own sexual identity from her,” she said.

I thought about the wisdom of those words.  Then I decided to tease Patti.

“That’s kind of funny coming from you.  You know my secret, but you’ve never been willing to tell me yours.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean that a long time ago you told me about how you can mix your fetishes with someone you care about, someone you love, and enjoy them more.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you now.”

“I know.  But you also told me that you have your own fetish, and you won’t tell me what it is.”

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.  I didn’t want to be too aggressive with her after all she had done for me.  I didn’t just mean the panties either; Patti was truly someone I cared for very deeply.  I would do anything for her.

“I mean even Aunt Sherrie opened up to me that way,” I continued.  “For crying out loud, she groped me in her living room just to get a rise out of my … pants.”

“Tent.  She calls it a tent.  And I know; she told me.  I couldn’t believe that she carried things that far.  Sometimes that girl has big discipline problems.”

“Girl?” I wouldn’t call my aunt that.

“Well, she’ll always be my kid sister.”

“I would have thought that Bambi would be the wild one.”

”She is,” answered Patti.  “You really have no idea how wild.”

Okay.

“So come on, tell me,” I pressed and took the last bit of my sandwich.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what your fetish is,” I answered with a mouthful of chicken salad.  I tried to seem a bit mischievous by almost daring her to tell me.

I knew that she wouldn’t.  Patti was too reserved, too disciplined.  That reserve added greatly to my attraction to her.  She was so unattainable.  She always played things close to the vest, and the possibility of her revealing her fetish to me was just too remote.  I sat there, still holding her hand, and she squeezed.  We just sat there for a few minutes looking at each other.  Actually I looked at her and she stared into space.

“Do you really want to know?”  She surprised me by asking.

“Yes.  I do.”

No way is she going to tell me.

Patti squeezed my hand again.

“Okay I will.”

She squeezed again.

Oh boy.

“This is my fetish,” and with that she held up my hand.

“What is?” I was perplexed.

“Your hand.  Your hands.  Men’s hands.  Vincent, I have a hand fetish,”  she confessed, but it made no sense to me.

A fucking what fetish?

“A what fetish?” I asked.

“A hand fetish.  I have a fetish for men’s hands.”

She really squeezed hard now and looked me straight in the eyes.  She had a curious little smile on her face, half Mona Lisa and half bank robber passing a note to the teller.

“Vincent, I get aroused – turned on – by men’s hands.  Some men, many men actually, have a foot fetish.  Mine is just a little different.  A man’s strong hands, like my husband’s or yours, well … they arouse me.  It’s been a big turn-on for me for as long as I can remember.  

“I dated different boys in high school, and I always wound up judging them by their hands.  I sort of compared the hands of the different boys I dated.  I dated a football player who had fantastic hands.  They were big and strong, and I just melted whenever he touched me.  To this day I can’t resist them.”

“You’d better not let your husband find out,” I quipped.

“That’s who I’m talking about, silly,” she replied with a smirk.

Maybe David wasn’t all thumbs after all.

She put it all out there in the open.  All I could do was sit there with my jaw hanging somewhere down around my belly button and feel her warm hands as she held mine.  Now that she had told me her turn-on she was rubbing my fingers and staring at them.

“So do you mean to tell me that after all this time, after almost two years of confiding in you and talking to you about my innermost thoughts and problems while you held my hand to comfort me, you weren’t really comforting me?”  I was incredulous.

“Sure I was,” she said.  “But I was also getting turned on at the time.”  She smiled something wicked.

“I feel so used.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Well … no.  Not really.”

I just shook my head back and forth.

The things you find out about people.

“So, you’re turned on by hands?  Men’s hands?  I just don’t get it.”  I didn’t.  She needed to explain this to me.

“There are things that turn on some people that others don’t understand.  It is all about accepting the things that arouse you and that arouse the ones you love.  Some men are turned-on by women’s feet or legs; foot fetishists are out there everywhere.  Others are turned on by panties, like you.  I for one don’t understand why you get so horny over a simple piece of fabric, but I can accept that you do and help you.”  She offered up the explanation, but it just didn’t seem to sink into my head.

“Yeah, but panties are sexy,” I attempted my own feeble justification.

“Only because you think they are; only because your mind has made a link between women’s panties and sex.  I on the other hand have made a link between a man’s hands and sex,” she replied.

“Yeah, but hands?  That’s just nuts.”  It was the best retort I could summon.

“What is so nuts about hands?” she asked.  She could have been a little defensive.  I came close to ridiculing her, and she did nothing to deserve that.  It was my own failure to understand the scope of human sexuality at that time that got in the way.  Fortunately for me, Patti was a very patient woman.

“Well, because they’re just hands.  Look at mine; they still have plaster and paint on them.  They’re filthy, yet you’ve been holding them this whole time.  Do you mean to tell me that these filthy hands get you going?” I though that was a brilliant point.  Little did I realize that I had just kicked the door open to the explanation that I needed.

“Well, let’s get them cleaned up and take a closer look at them.  Shall we?” she said.

It wasn’t a question that needed an answer.  I would have followed Patti anywhere.  She stood up and led me to the kitchen sink.  Patti turned on the water and we waited a few seconds for it to get hot.  She squirted some dishwashing soap into the sink and it created a rising mound of bubbles.

“Come here, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said.

She took my right hand and immersed it in the hot soapy water.  She also took a bar of soap by the sink and started rubbing it around my hand.  She lathered up my hand and cleaned my palms and between my fingers.  She rubbed the soap around the back of my hand and around my knuckles.  She lathered it up aggressively and held it under the water.  I could feel my hand getting softer and warmer in the hot water.

“Okay, hold on to your hat Vincent, but this is the big part of my fetish.  This is what I like to do.  I do it with my husband all the time.”

“What, you wash his hands,” I asked.

“That’s right, sweetie.  I wash his hands.  I love to wash a man’s hands.  I love to feel the soapy warmth of a pair of strong hands.”  She was staring at my palm as she rubbed my fingers.

“I love to rub the soap around and feel each finger,” she continued looking down into the sink.  “I love to feel how strong each finger is and how large the palm is.  

“I love to feel the little callous right here where the finger joins the palm.”  She turned over my hand and rubbed the dead piece of skin under my middle finger and then looked up at me.  “I love to feel them get warm and wet, and I love to fantasize about them holding me.  I love to think about a pair of warm wet hands running themselves all over my body, gently caressing my skin, fondling my breasts and arousing me.

“Panties?  Panties are just fabric.  What good are they when they’re empty?  But a warm pair of living hands, now that’s something to fantasize about.  That’s what I think is sexy.”

You could have knocked me over with a flimsy nylon g-string.  If Patti had not been holding my hand I might have just fallen over backwards.  All this time I had no idea.  All this time I was living in he dark.

“So, do you want to wash the other one?” I asked sarcastically.

Patti didn’t answer me.  She simply took my left hand into the water and washed it as thoroughly as she did the right hand.  The whole time she just stood next to me at the sink, silently washing my left hand and then my right hand again.  She stared down into the dirty water of the sink and admired my hands as she lathered them up repeatedly and washed them off once, then twice, then three times.  If I had any sense I would have worried about her husband walking into the room.  I didn’t.

My heart thumped harder, and my penis grew rigid as she caressed my wet, soapy hand.

I now had a pair of warm, wet, pruned hands.  Patti just kept running her fingers over my palms and then down the back of my fingers.  I lost track of time, but I felt the need to break away.  All this hand play was causing havoc in my pants.  Patti was getting that same look in her eyes that Aunt Sherrie had the day she groped my groin.  I was as hard as a rock and I wanted to go home and jerk off.  All this because of holding a woman’s hand.

“Ahh, Patti,” I said.

“Yes.”

“I think they’re clean now.”

Patti turned and took a dishtowel from a drawer near the sink.

“I’ll just dry you off,” she said with a glazed look in her eyes.

“Part of the big finish I hope,” I said to her.

“Mmm.”

She had a big grin across her face, like the cat that swallowed the canary.  Maybe she grinned because I was so stunned.  Maybe she grinned because my horizons were just a little more open.  Or maybe she grinned because she had just shared a unique moment of intimacy with me.  I hoped it was the later.

“Don’t worry, Vincent.  I’m not going to grope you.”

Shit.  I would have enjoyed that.

My hands were dry now, and I started to back away from her.  However, she did not let go of my hand just yet.

“I hope you aren’t in a hurry to leave,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t paid you for the job yet.”

“Oh yeah.  You owe me three pairs of cold, lifeless panties for two weekends worth of construction work with my warm, sexy hands.”

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” she said.  “The bad news is that I don’t have any panties here for you.”

“And the good news?” I asked.

“The good news is that you and I are going to the boutique together.”




Will Work for Panties Ch. 05



“We are?”

“Yes, we are.”

Oh boy.  That is good news.

*	*	*

It had been a long time since I had stepped foot in The French Boutique, the favorite lingerie shop of my Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters.  Here is where they had bought so many of the sexy undergarments that they had given me as payment for jobs done around their homes, and here I stood now hand-in-hand with Patti as we looked around the store for three pairs of panties suitable for the construction job I had just completed at her house.

Of course holding hands with Patti had taken on an entirely new dimension in the past half hour.  I was tempted to ask her if she had an orgasm while washing my hands, but I thought that it would be more tactful not to ask that particular question and just let myself believe that she did.  Ignorance is bliss.

“Bon soir, mon ami,” Madeline, the owner of the boutique addressed Patti.  “I see that after all this time you have returned with your young man.  Bon, très bon.”

“Now Madeline, how many times do I have to tell you that you have the wrong idea?” Patti said to her.

“So you say, Pat-teesh.  But if I do have the wrong idea then I know for sure that you have the wrong idea as well.  Il est très beau.  No?”

Patti actually giggled when Madeline said that, whatever it was.

This was all going over my head.  I studied Spanish in high school, and I was not too good at that.  What I did understand was that Madeline was giving me that hungry sort of look again.  In our previous sojourn to the boutique Patti had told me that Madeline was sizing me up like a piece of meat.  That explained why the hairs on the back of my neck stood up every so often.  Now I felt her glare again.

“We’re just going to look around for a few minutes.  Okay?” Patti said.

“Very well, Pat-teesh.  You have the run of the store,” Madeline replied.

“I’ve know her for years and she always mispronounces my name,” she whispered to me.  “I don’t think she can say the word ‘Patricia.’”

“Why doesn’t she just call you Patti like everyone else?”

“I think she’s trying to?”  We giggled.

Patti took me over to a large display table next to a line of negligees.  The table had several pairs of elaborate panties spread out on it.

“These are her top-of-the-line merchandise.  See anything you like?” Patti asked me.

“Well, yeah.  The problem is in trying to narrow it down,” I whispered nervously.

There were so many from which to choose.  The colors were rich and vibrant shades of blue, pink, green, and red.  There were panties with tassels and those without.  I found myself focusing on a brand of silk panties that had different designs on them.  One pair had a gold base with a combination of intricate dark blue and black designs.  The color scheme turned me on; in fact my groin was stirring now and pressing out against my jeans.

“I like these, here.”  I pointed them out to Patti and she picked them up.

“Yes, these are nice,” she replied.

Next my eyes caught a burgundy panty with silver and black designs.  The burgundy was rich and dark, and the silver offset against the background fabric perfectly.

“I like these too,” I said as I pointed them out.

“Very nice.”  She picked up those as well.

I could not decide between the last two pairs that I saw.  One pair was a dark green French cut panty that had what looked like a black letter ‘V’ embossed in lace.  The other was pink and had the same ‘V’ embossed in white.  I liked them both, but could not decide between the two of them.

“Which ones do you prefer, Patti?”

“Well let me see.  I’m a girl so I guess I like the pink ones better.”  She picked them up and handed them to me.

“Yeah, I guess those are prettier,” I said.  “Here, you’d better hold them,” and I pushed them back to her as if I would get the cooties or something.

“Take it easy,” she said.  “It isn’t like holding them is going to give you the cooties or anything.”

Patti always seemed to have a way of reading my mind.

We shopped for about fifteen minutes before we had settled on three pairs of absolutely beautiful panties.  The gold, blue, and black pair, the pink French cut panties with the embossed ‘V’ pattern, and the burgundy, silver, and black pair.  All three were pairs that caught my eye, and my imagination, early.

“Are you settled there, mon ami?” Madeline asked Patti.

“Yes, we are.”

“Bon, très bon.”  Madeline had an evil little smirk on her face.  I spent a quick moment looking at her as she rang up the merchandise.

Madeline looked like she was in her early fifties, somewhat matronly, but quite attractive.  I had once before found myself admiring how meticulously groomed she kept herself.  She had perfectly styled hair and make-up; she was quite a striking woman.  She was also a curvaceous woman with a full bosom and full hips; I found myself looking along the curves of her body as she talked with Patti.  I may have been staring.  She was everything a lingerie saleswoman should be.

“Madeleine, have you had any more luck in fixing that second fitting room in the back?” Patti asked.

“Mai non, Pat-teesh.  The problem is that the workman I hire, oooh, il est un grand cochon.  Comprenez?”  She waved her hand in the air angrily.

“Madeline is having some labor problems,” Patti said to me.

“I see.”

“It is a simple job,” she complained.  “The problem is I hire a simple man to do it,” she was animated now.  “I ire a man to do some simple work and what do I get?  ‘edache after ‘eadache.  Eediot.  I fire ‘im, but now I do not know what I am to do.”  Her accent got more exaggerated as she became more upset.  Her cheeks started to flush themselves red a little.

“I know where you can hire someone who is competent and trustworthy,” Patti said.

“Oh, where Pat-teesh?  I am desperate to fineesh the job.  I have customers come into my store, and they have to see an embarrazzing mezz like that.”

“Well, he’s right here.”  Patti squeezed my arm.

 “What’d you say?” I asked amazed.

“You could help out Madeline, Vincent.”

“I could?”

“Yes,” Patti turned to Madeline.  “You should see the job he just finished at my house.  He built two brand new rooms in the basement.  I’ll bet fixing a fitting room would be no trouble for him.”

“It wouldn’t?” I asked still amazed and wondering what the hell she was doing to me.

“Are you really that good?  Do you think you could ‘elp me, cherie?” Madeleine asked me.  She pleaded, actually.

“Well, ah, well,” I stammered and looked back and forth between the two women.

“Of course he could.  Let’s go back there and show him the job,” Patti answered for me.

Madeline guided us to the rear of the store and showed us the problem.  She had all the supplies she needed, but the place was a mess.

“I come in ‘ere the other day and what do I find?  That fat peeg is drinking.  Le cochon.  J'espère qu’ils l’accrochent.”  This woman was mad.

“Everytheeng is ‘ere to do the work.  I just need someone in whom I can trust; someone who will work ‘ard,” she said.

“Well, what do you say, Vincent?  Are you going to help out my good friend or not?” Patti was putting me to the challenge and clasping my hand tightly.  My hard-on throbbed.

What the hell did I have to lose?

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be to much work,” I answered.  “If I come over after my regular job I could probably get it done in about four days.  Five tops.”

“Oh cherie, I will be indebted to you.  Can you start this week?”

“Sure, yeah I’ll come over tomorrow after work.”

Later that night I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, clutching the pair of burgundy and silver panties in my hand while I wore Patti’s favorite pink tap pants. I realized that I would be working for almost a week in the fitting room of a lingerie store.  My erection throbbed against the silk of the tap pants.

Someone up there really likes me.

I was restless and couldn’t sleep, so to occupy my time and burn off some energy I got out of bed and walked over to the bureau that housed my prized collection.  I opened the bureau and removed the newest additions, the panties that Patti had bought for me that night.  I took out other pairs of panties as well and laid them out on the bed.  I removed the black lace bikinis and a gold thong that Bambi had recently bought me.  I took out the fancy tasseled green panties my Aunt Sherrie had recently purchased for me.  I took out a pair of the older cotton panties, the ones with the little rainbows on them that had been among the very first panties my Aunt Sherrie had ever given to me.

I spread them out on the bed with the new additions and picked them up one by one to fondle and admired.  I wrapped the brand new pink French cut panties with the embossed ‘V’ around my penis and stroked myself to erection.  I took the gold thong and placed it over the top of my erection and began stroking.  One by one I picked up a pair and used them to stimulate myself.  I wanted to come, and I wanted to come quickly.

I imagined Patti naked except for a pair of virgin white tap pants, her back pressed to my chest so that I could fondle her breasts.  I imagined her caressing my hands with hers and I pressed the length of my manhood into her tap pants along the crack of her ass.  I imagined humping her through the soft, silky material.  It wasn’t enough to make me come.

I imagined both Bambi and my Aunt Sherrie caressing my body with their panties, Bambi using a gold thong like the one I had just dropped that lay on the floor, my aunt using a silver and black panty.  I imagined each of the women pulling the panties from their bodies and down their legs and rubbing the slightly damp material around my chest and back.  I imagined my aunt stroking and groping at my cock, but still I did not come.

Desperate for a quick sexual release I piled the panties on the bed and prepared for a panty fuck.  I wrapped my cock with a condom quickly, haphazardly, and mounted the pile.  I grabbed a fistful of silk and lace and violently humped the fabric desperately trying to achieve a quick release.

I fantasized bout Madeline’s store.  I closed my eyes, clinched my teeth and remembered all the varieties of feminine apparel lying about in her wonderful store.  The memory of all those panties, as well as all the other feminine finery, brought forth a quick series of twitches to my cock.  I knew I was close.

I tossed the blue tap pants that reminded me of Gail’s eyes on the pillow and humped the pile of panties without mercy.  Trying desperately to see her face in the panties I thrust and thrust until I finally felt a warm surge of semen rise up and escape into the rubber.

Mission accomplished.  I had no idea how narrow minded I was.


*	*	*

Mahogany.  The woman liked mahogany.  The whole changing room was to be fitted out with mahogany wood cabinets, mahogany paneling, even the table and chair were stained mahogany.  It took me about four days after my regular job to complete the room.

The fringe benefit of course was that I got to spend so much time in a store dedicated to the sale and distribution of my favorite fetish item.  It is amazing that I got any work done at all.  At my regular day job I didn’t have the distraction of being surrounded by women’s underwear.  However at Madeline’s store I was in a constant state of arousal.  Even when I was in the back fitting room with the door closed my erection was relentless.  

Each day I got home from work – the first four days in a row - I would dive into my bureau drawer and set myself up for a glorious panty fuck.  I was showered and naked in about ten minutes.  My family thought that I was tired from working overtime at my job, and they just let me get cleaned up for bed.

“Do you want any dinner, Vincent?  I left something in the refrigerator for you.”

“No thanks, Mom.  I ate a little while ago.”

“Okay.  Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight mom.”

But once I was ensconced in my room, the bathrobe came off and the panty drawer came out, and was it ever stuffed.  The exquisite stuff was my favorite, the panties with intricate floral designs and tassels; the panties with rich, bold colors; the panties made of smooth silk and satin with lace borders and trim.

My arousal would have lasted all night long if I didn’t do something to tame the beast.  I would caress my body with a pair of deep blue panties while stroking my member with a gold thong or a black lace-trimmed panty.  I would give myself slow strokes at first, but soon either I would be pumping myself furiously with my fist or humping a pile of panties on my bed while I thought about all the gloriously sensual underwear throughout the store.

I never lasted long, usually only long enough to get on a condom so as not to ruin my collection.  I didn’t want to foul my most prized possessions with any semen stains.  In fact my orgasms had been coming sooner and sooner.  The sexual scenarios that I would fabricate in my head were getting briefer in order to accommodate my shorter staying time.  Soon it was all that I could do to hold onto a fantasy of penetrating Patti in the doggie position while Bambi and my aunt caressed my body with their panties.  I even entertained a fantasy about Madeline; after all it was her store.  Then, bang, I was done.

It was becoming all about getting off as fast as possible.  I just wanted to shoot my load.

Besides the arousal the store provided me, I also got quite an education in the retail aspect of lingerie.  The clientele was diverse.  A little less than half of the customers were men, most of whom would come in and skulk around before either making a purchase or leaving empty handed.  A few men were on a first name basis with Madeline, and appeared to be making purchases for their wives or girlfriends; maybe both.

Several of the women who came in to shop did so with other women.  In fact most of the time there would be two women shopping together, comparing items, and just generally having a good time.  Again most were familiar with Madeline.  She seemed to have a very loyal customer base.

On the last day of work on Madeline’s fitting room, Friday, I thought I had seen a familiar man exit the store after making a purchase.  I got a brief look at him, but at the time I just couldn’t place him.  It kind off bugged me for a moment because I thought I recognized him.

“Madeline, who was that guy?” I asked.

“Oh, just one of my loyal customers.  So tell me, cherie, ‘ave you fineeshed the feeting room?”

“Yeah, it’s all done.  I just need to clean up the mess and you’ll be in business,” I replied.

“Oh, I am so excited I cannot wait.  Let’s see it now.”

Madeline had been to the new fitting room about a million times since I started working on it.  She would sometimes make small talk when there were no customers to attend to, but that wasn’t often.  Mostly I just got the feeling that she was leering at me, sucking on her fingernail in that sexy way she had about her.  She was also always trying to make some sort of physical contact with me such as a hug or a kiss before I left for the night or by finding some excuse to brush against me.  I’ll tell you the truth, I enjoyed having a sexy older woman paying so much attention to me.  It was just another cause for my state of perpetual arousal.

“Oh, it is just perfect,” she complemented my work.

“Well, it’s not much different from yesterday,” I replied.

“I know, I know.  But I have been wanting to get thees room fineeshed for months now.  You see how much bees-ness I have in ‘ere during the week.  I always need a second room. Oh, merci cherie.  Merci beaucoup.”  And with that she gave me a hug.

It was a big hug.  A very big hug.  She wrapped her arms around my body and pulled me close to her.  I could feel her breasts press against my chest.  The soft crush of her bosom against my body was an enjoyable feeling to say the least.  Then she loosed her grip on my body and let her hands run down my back before lightly running her fingers across my butt.

“Well, gee, thanks.  Glad you like it,” What the hell was I supposed to say at this point?

“Oh cherie, you have done a very good job.  Please come upstairs weeth me.  We must celebrate, no?” she offered.

“Well you’re busy right now.  You could have customers coming in any moment, and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Nonsense cherie, it is past eight o’clock.  I seldom get anyone past this time on a Friday night.  Everyone is busy right now.  I would not have a customer if I stayed open for another hour.  Come, come upstairs and we will ‘ave a leetle celebration.”

I took a few minutes to vacuum the floor of the new fitting room and clear out my tools.  I got everything from my circular saw and cordless drill to my hammer locked up in the trunk of my car and went back inside through the rear door.  Madeline was just locking up the front and turning out the light.  She flipped the “Closed” sign in the window and led me to a staircase in the back.

Madeline lived in the apartment above the store.  Once upstairs I noticed that it had a bigger floor layout than the store downstairs; it spread out over the entire space of the building below.  There were quite a few rooms and each was exquisitely furnished.  I guessed that the lingerie business was good.

“Quite a place you have here,” I complimented her on her apartment.

“Oh, thank-you cherie.  Actually I own the ‘ole building,” she explained.

“Really?”

“Oh yes.  This one and a few others.  My ‘usband was in real estate for many years.  I am quite comfortable.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I said.

“Oh, I married several years ago.  He was an older man, and he ‘as been gone for some years now.”

I didn’t know whether she was telling me that her husband died or walked out, and I thought the tactful thing to do was not ask and just leave that part of the conversation where it was.

“Please, come and clean up,” she said.  “Clean up and we shall ‘ave our celebration.  I ‘ave a bottle chilled just right.  Clean up and ‘ave yourself a glass,” she offered.

“I don’t know, I probably shouldn’t be drinking anything.”

“Nonsense, a man can ‘ave a glass of champagne.  I will ‘ave none of it.  You will clean up,” she said, “and we will ‘ave a leetle something.”

I complied.  Even if I wasn’t technically old enough to drink yet – just a few weeks shy of my twenty-first birthday actually, it had been a long week and I guessed I deserved it.  I worked hard after all.

I washed up in her bathroom then returned to her living room.  Madeline called to me.

“Vincent, just ‘ave a seat and I will be back.”

“Sure, anything you say,” I said as I emerged from the bathroom and entered her living room.

The room was furnished with elegant French period furniture.  I sat on a sofa with a high back and intricate wooden designs.  The carpenter in me admired the fine workmanship.  In fact there was nothing cheap or flimsy about this place.  The wallpaper was expensive, the mantle and hearth of the fireplace were hand-carved, the furniture was all either imported or antique.  

Madeline had several paintings hanging on the walls of the room.  One was a portrait of a woman reclining on a chaise lounge.  Her hair was black and her skin was fair.  She was nude from the waist up, but she wore a white robe or gown that covered her waist to her knees.  

Another painting showed several sailboats out on a lake at the foot of a mountain.  It was a fuzzy painting without the detail of the portrait, and the pant used was comprised mostly of pastels.  It hung above the mantle of the fireplace.

“’ere we are cherie,” she said as she came back into the room holding a magnum of champagne and two flutes.  “I ‘ave been saving this bottle for a special occasion.”  With that she popped the cork from the bottle.




Will Work for Panties Ch. 05



There was a little hiss from the bottle, not some big flowing gush of champagne bursting forth.  She sat close to me on the sofa.

“Gee, Madeline, I don’t know what the big deal is.  All I did was finish off some work in one room.  It really isn’t that big a deal,” I said attempting humbly to put what I had done in perspective.

“Nonsense.  I ‘ave waited far too long for that job too be done,” she said as she poured the wine into the two glasses and placed the bottle in a bucket on the coffee table in front of the sofa.  “I ‘ave customers coming in all day, and it is more often than not that two or three ladies are lined up waiting for the fitting room.  Your work is going to make my business more profitable, and for that I am very appreciative.”  She said this and handed me a glass.  

“Besides, you fixed the drawers in that old bureau and gave it a brand new finish, and you repaired the chairs and the table.  You ‘ave done a wonderful job.  That room is so beautiful I could rent it out, oui?”

“You flatter me,” I said with a little smile trying to sound a little sophisticated but probably failing.

“Oui, cherie.  And it is deserved.  A toast,” she held up her glass.  I held up mine.  “To a job well done.”

Clink.

So I wasn’t old enough to drink yet.  That didn’t mean that I never did.  The carbonation of sparkling wine is different than that of beer.  The champagne was dry and it tickled my nostrils as I drank it down.  Madeline drank hers down too, but she kept an eye on me as she did.

“So, do you do such good work for Pat-teesh also, cherie?”

“Well, I take pride in my work.”

“Well, that is as it should be.  ‘ere,” she said, “let me refresh your glass.”

A magnum is a big bottle that holds a lot of wine.  I had the feeling that Madeline wanted to share to whole thing with me.  After she touched up her glass she excused herself.

“Give me a moment, cherie.”

She rose from the sofa and walked over to a cabinet with her glass in hand.  She opened up the dark walnut top and revealed a phonograph system.  She placed her glass down on the table next to it and knelt down.  She opened the front doors to the cabinet and took out several records.  After placing several of them on a spindle in the turntable she turned it on.  A record dropped and started playing some music.  Madeline picked up her glass and started swaying to the sound of romantic piano.

After a minute or two, she dimmed the light to the room a notch and returned to her spot on the sofa next to me.  I had sipped about half of the champagne in my glass while she was preparing the records, so she reached for the bottle and topped off both of us.

She turned to face me from my left and placed her right arm just behind my left shoulder.  She crossed her legs painfully slow.  It was the deliberate type of movement a woman makes when she is in the process of wrapping a man around her finger.  Madeline’s legs were well shaped.  Her body had soft, full curves to it and her somewhat matronly appearance was betrayed by an experienced sensuality.  That, plus her meticulous grooming, made her quite an extraordinary woman to behold.  I had a sense of what she was trying to do, even with my relative inexperience.  The only question was whether or not I had the good sense to allow myself to be seduced.

“So cherie, how do you like the wine?” she asked.

“I thought it was champagne,” I said ignorantly.

“Champagne is wine; it is sparkling wine.  That is the carbonation, cherie.  It comes from a village in France called Champagne,” she explained.

“Yeah, but don’t they make champagne in California too?” I asked.

“Mais non, they make sparkling wine.  ‘owever, many people meestakenly call that champagne as well,” she said.

“I’ll remember the difference,” I said as I took another sip of sparkling wine from a village in France called Champagne.  I giggled a little as I sipped it.

“You like?”

“Yeah, it’s different.  It tickles.”

Madeline smiled and sipped some more from her glass.

“How come you have a picture of a half-naked lady in your living room?” I asked.  In retrospect it seems like a stupid and awkward question to ask a woman from out of the blue, but I think the combination of my own nervousness and the intoxicating effect of the wine conspired to weaken my judgment.

“You do not recognize ‘er, cherie?”

“No.”

“Take a good look at ‘er.”

“I don’t know,” I said as I considered the picture from across the room.  “Is she someone famous?  Is she an actress or something?”

“Mais non, look closer.”

I did, but the face just didn’t seem to click with anyone I should know.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “Who is it?”

“Silly,” she replied, “elle es moi.”

“What?  I don’t understand.”

“She is me.”

“What?”

I looked closer at the portrait.  The girl in the picture had long black hair and a generous bosom.  She appeared to be in her late teens, but her face – the shape of it and the little smirk on her mouth – quickly revealed itself to be the very woman I sat next to on the sofa.

“Hey, I see it now.  That is you.  When did you pose for it?” I asked her.

“Oh cherie, that was a very long time ago.  I was but a girl, not long in Paris.  I ‘ad high ‘opes of becoming a model back then.  I modeled for that portrait, and others as well,” she explained.

“Who painted it?”

“The same artist who painted that one above the mantle,” she pointed to the painting of the sailboats.  “That was one of ‘is impressionist paintings.”

“Who was the artist?”

“Oh, no one famous.  Claude was very talented and expressive.  He dabbled in one genre after another, but never really found the one that was right for ‘im.”

“Was he your husband?” I asked carefully.  I didn’t want to probe too far about her marriage since I didn’t know how it had ended.”

“Mais non.  Claude was not my ‘usband.”

“So you only modeled for him?” I asked.  I took another long sip of champagne.  I would need to refresh my glass in a moment.

“I modeled for ‘im, oui.  But he was also my lover.”

That caught me a bit off guard.

“Oh?”

“Don’t be so surprised, cherie.  I was young and in love with ‘im.  I learned so much about life by seeing it through ‘is eyes.  I learned so much by seeing the world through ‘is art.”

“Really?” I was lost for conversation at this point.  I picked up the magnum myself and refilled both of our glasses.

“Is it not the same way between you and Pat-teesh?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Does she not teach you much about love ‘erself?”

I blushed.  The conversation was becoming very personal now and I didn’t know how to respond.  I had tremendous feelings of affection for Patti, and I had learned a few things from her, but I never quite understood some of the lessons that she was trying to teach me.

“Well, no.”

“Non?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.  She hinted that she knew better.

I thought that I had better clear things up for her.

“Well Patti is a good friend, but we’re not lovers or anything like that.”  I took an aggressive drink of champagne.

“Never?  Not even once?”  She stroked her fingers along the back of my neck and combed them through my hair.  My erection pressed hard against my jeans.

“No, never.”  Another sip of wine.

“That is a pity, mon cherie.  Tell me, ‘ave you ever been with a woman?”

Now the conversation was very personal.  My heart was nervously beating faster, and I was worried that my voice might break when I spoke.

“Well, yeah.  I did it once.”

“You deed it?”  She put emphasis on her accented ‘did,’ but I didn’t understand what she was hinting at yet.

“Sure, I was in high school,” I replied.

I was seventeen at the time.  I had a date with a girl I met at a dance early in my senior year.  Until that time I had only masturbated with magazine pictures of women in panties for sexual release.  Lisa Lewis was pretty and she seemed to like me.  After we had gone out four or five times we both decided that we wanted to lose our virginity.  It was certainly a departure for a boy who had up until then been obsessed with panties and not their contents.

I had the use of my father’s car, and we were going to go to a movie and then home.  We missed the movie and drove out to an isolated spot just outside of the city where teenagers had been going all the way back to the end of World War II.  We spent a lot of time nervously kissing each other, and it was doubtful if we were even going to take off our clothes or not.  At some point I screwed up the courage to attempt a first awkward move.  I wasn’t smooth, and I wasn’t graceful, but mercifully Lisa was expecting neither from me.

	“Are you sure you want to go through with it?” I asked.

	“Yeah, … I guess so,” she said.

	“Do you want me to wear this thing?” I pulled a condom out of my wallet.

	“Where did you get that?”

	“Billy lent it to me.”

	“Lent it to you?”

	“Yeah.”

	“Do you have to give it back to him afterwards?” she started laughing.  It really broke the ice.

	“No,” I said laughing myself.  “Just let me put it on.”

	“Do you know how?”

	“Of course I do,” I lied.

A few minutes later we were finished.  I just stuck my penis in her vagina, humped a few times, shot my load and figured that I was a man at last.  I had finally screwed a girl.  I thought that it felt good, but I wasn’t sure.  I guess the idea of having had sex was more important than the sex itself.  I didn’t spend any time trying to arouse her.  Just to show what kind of asshole I was I didn’t even ask if it was good for her.  I think that’s why she never saw me again after that night.

I hit the highlights of the story for Madeline.

“That is such a sad story, cherie,” she said.

“Sad?  Why?”

“Because you went in so blind and eegnorant.”

“What else should I have done?”

“Cherie, all you were looking for was an opportunity to ‘do’ it.”  She continued to stroke the back of my head and neck with her right hand.  “You never considered that loving a woman is much more than just jumping into the back seat and getting sex over weeth.

“It is so much more.”  She placed her glass down on the coffee table then turned to me.  Her left hand was now free, and she placed it on my chest right over my heart.  I had no doubt that she could feel my heart pounding out a beat totally out of rhythm with the romantic music playing in the background.  My penis twitched in rhythm with my heart.

“Well, yeah.  I mean I know that now.”  I took another aggressive sip of champagne.

“Oh?  And what exactly do you know?” she challenged my knowledge.  It was a clever ploy if she was trying to embarrass me, but I do not think that was her intention.

“Well, like with my girlfriend?”

“So, you ‘ave a lady friend now?”

“Yeah, sure I do.  Her name is Gail.”

“And you and Gail ‘ave been intimate?”  She stroked my chest up and down with her left hand.  My erection was begging for release.

“No.”

“Does she never touch you like this?”  Madeline’s hand roamed from my chest, past my belt, and down to the crease in my pants where she gave me a fondling I have never been able to describe in words.  (Sorry dear reader.)  Not even my aunt’s now infamous groping could compare.

“Ah, n… no,” I stammered.

“Does she keess you, like this?”  She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against mine.  The suction was moist and gentle at first.  She added a little suction and parted my lips with her tongue.  She gently licked at my tongue and our teeth scraped.  Then she pulled back, but continued to fondle me.

“N, … n, ah, no.”

“Do you keess ‘er like this?”  Madeline repeated her incredible kiss and she outlind the length of my ever hardening cock with her fingernail.

I was speechless.  I forgot all about the glass of champagne that I was holding while Madeline fondled and kissed me.  When I momentarily regained my senses I took a long sip of the wine and emptied my glass.  I leaned forward and placed the glass on the coffee table, then relaxed back in my seat just staring into Madeline’s eyes.

“Cherie, there is so much more to loving a woman properly than simply ‘doing it.’  It takes patience and tenderness.  You must take time, cherie, to explore each other and let all your senses enjoy the experience.  Remember, it is all about the journey, not the destination.  Comprenez?”

“Uh, yeah … yeah.”  I looked for a refill of my glass.

“Oh?  I theenk not.”  She kissed me again then rose to her feet.  “Cherie, I will be back in un moment.  Please refill our glasses.”

She gracefully left the room, strolling out elegantly on her high heels.  I briefly entertained the thought of bailing out while she was in the other room.  This was a complete assault.  But how stupid would I feel in the morning if I walked out on this?  At least some part of me had the sense to stay put, my fucking erection.  Even if I had made the decision to get up and bolt, that little (well, I wouldn’t say little really, but you know what I mean) bastard had me immobile.

The record stopped, I could hear the needle scrape against the label, then a couple of clicks.  A second record dropped in place and the stylus swung back and down.  Soft Spanish guitar emanated from the phono player.  Madeline walked back into the room still wearing her high heels, but a different outfit.

She wore a sheer black robe that did little to conceal her body.  She was obviously not wearing a bra; the robe parted revealing her ample cleavage.  Yet her breasts were obscured by the material of the robe just enough to leave something to my imagination.  What caught my eye of course were the champagne colored panties that she wore.  They were made from a shimmering silk stitched with black lace trimmed all around the edges.  Her sheer robe opened just below her waist as she walked back to the sofa.  It afforded me a wonderful view of her legs, but more so of her panties which the opening of her robe highlighted.  My heart pounded like a bass drum.

She sashayed towards me.  The lace trim of her robe brushed against the outside of her legs as she walked.  “I thought you would refresh our drinks, cherie.”

“Oh, sorry.”  I took the magnum and poured the remaining contents into our glasses.  The alcohol was taking full effect; or was it her perfume?

We drank down the remaining champagne silently.  Madeline sat next to me, almost on top of me, smiling the whole time, devising some evil plot behind those sensuous eyes.  Or was her plot already devised?  She crossed her legs painfully slow once again.  She continued to comb her fingers through my hair.  When she was done with her glass she placed it on the table one last time.  She took my glass from my hand and put it down also.  She was in total control.

“Put your ‘and on my thigh,” she whispered into my ear.  I obeyed.

Madeline unbuttoned my shirt with her left hand.  She reached inside and stroked the warm flesh of my chest with long crimson polished nails.  She guided her hand up to my face and tilted it towards hers.  Again she placed a sensuous, moist kiss on my lips.

“So, Pat-teesh ‘as never given you a lesson in love?” she asked again in a throaty growl.

“N … no,” I fought to get the word out.  It was stuck in my throat.

“Then why do you come into my store weeth ‘er to by such beautiful lingerie?”  She kissed my neck and ear.

“They’re not … they’re not … for her,” I stuttered.

“Oh, then for whom?  Your young lady?”  Her fingers wandered to the crease in my pants and I could feel her unbuckle my jeans.  Once unfastened, she reached inside.

“No … they’re, they’re…”

“They’re what, mon amour?”  I felt her fingers gently travel the length of my increasingly hard erection.

“Mine,” I confessed meekly.  “They’re mine.”

“Yours?” she asked unflinchingly.  Madeline stroked my naked body between my chest and manhood.  She continued kissing me.

“Yes,” I gasped for air as the confession came out.  My sweaty palm clutched her thigh while my other hand clutched the arm of the sofa.  “Yea … yea …yes.  They … they’re mi … mine.  They’re m … mine,” I spoke in a whimper.

“What do you need them for, cherie?”  She reached down between my legs to stroke the length of my engorged cock.

“They’re m … my fe … fe … fetish.  I ha … have a p … panty fetish.”

“And Pat-teesh, she ‘elps you?”  She was nibbling on my ear and rolling the head of my member between her thumb and forefinger.

“Yes,” my chest heaved excitedly as I answered.  I fought to control my breathing and to pace my sentence.  “Yes, she helps me,” I could have started crying but for her next sentence.

“I will ‘elp you more.”



Will Work for Panties Ch. 06



Hot water cascaded down my body washing away the soap from my chest, neck and shoulders. I stood under the showerhead letting the steamy water spray into my face before turning and rinsing off my back. My erection did not subside the whole time that I showered, and I replayed the events of the previous hour in my mind. I admit that I kept myself hard with the aid of my soapy palm because there was no way I wanted this throbbing erection to subside; not now. However, I think that I would have stayed hard even without the manual attention.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled myself dry. I had needed to get the smell of sweat and sawdust off of my body. Madeline might not have minded the byproduct of my labors in her fitting room; in fact, maybe she would have been aroused by the ripe, musky scent of my body. However, I felt sticky and grubby; being so very self-conscious of my own odor would only have given me something else to worry about and not have helped my situation. I wanted to wash away any stench and grime that might in some way have an adverse effect on what was already well underway: my seduction.

I toweled my hair dry then combed it as I thought about the erotic, crushing hug Madeline had given me for finishing the work in her lingerie shop downstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror while thinking about her invitation to celebrate with her, and the magnum of champagne that we shared. I thought about the sexy outline of her full figure revealed through her negligee as she swayed to music in front of her old-style record player. And, I thought about her undressing me on the sofa of her living room, and how she ran her fingers over my exposed chest and nibbled at my flesh while groping me through my dirty jeans, and how she had undressed me enough to free my erection. I throbbed at each thought, and while staring at my own face in the mirror for a few seconds wondered how I got so lucky.

I was on the verge of something big. I nervously allowed my mind to roam wildly about what Madeline had in store for me. It was going to be every young man’s dream come true, wasn’t it? How would it really feel? What would she initiate? Would I have the guts to follow through? Was I man enough to allow myself to be seduced, or would I run home, hide in my room, and jerk off with a fistful of panties – all by myself? 

What am I getting myself into? Okay, calm down. Just try and relax. It’s okay. Everything has been great so far, and you haven’t made an ass of yourself yet. Just let it happen. Okay, here’s the plan, whatever she wants give it to her. Just go with it. Be cool, and don’t back out.

A little mental prep never hurt anyone, but the truth is that I was so nervous deep inside my guts that I think I had to convince myself to go through with this. I put all other thoughts out of my mind while looking into the mirror and trying to find what it was that had this mature Frenchwoman so turned on. I had been making her horny, but no matter how hard I tried to find what her attraction to me was, I failed.

I shook a little as I wrapped a dry towel around my body and left my work clothes crumpled in a pile on the floor by the foot of the shower confident that Madeline would not mind the mess. Nervous tension would have consumed me had it not been for the several glasses of champagne I had shared with her. It was an incredible feeling of being sober enough to be nervous yet drunk enough to loose my inhibitions. I stepped out of Madeline’s bathroom and into her adjoining boudoir wrapped in the towel. 

Well, here goes everything.

Madeline’s bedroom was lighted dimly; enough light to see her clearly and appreciate her sensuality yet still shadowy enough to create an air of mystery provided by the flicker of several candles lit on either side of her bed. Stylish wallpaper gave a sensuous feel to her innermost sanctum, which reflected the tastes of a mature woman. Her furnishing were no less elegant here than in the rest of her apartment, perhaps more so. A queen size four-poster bed dominated the large room. There was typical bedroom furniture: a dark mahogany dresser and matching armoire, a loveseat on which she sat with her legs uncrossed and tilted to the side did not seem out of place in her boudoir, and a full-length dressing mirror in which I saw myself emerge from the bathroom took a prominent place next to the armoire. 

She had a more modern sound system here in her bedroom. Rather than the decades old record player of the living room, here she had a modern compact disk player stereo system providing the background music. It sat on the top of a solid oak table that, if I am not mistaken, was once used to conceal the chamber pot. I recognized the style from a shop class in high school. I thought that it was an interesting conversion piece.

Over the head of her bed hung a large oil painting of a very beautiful young woman with dark black hair flowing over her breasts. The young woman sat on the edge of a large white claw-foot bathtub combing out her hair. It was obviously another portrait that Claude had painted of Madeline. It was more beautiful than the one that hung in her living room. The frame of the painting seemed to open into another smaller room in the dim light, but the color of her eyes and skin seemed to come to life. My eyes darted back and forth between her portrait and the living, breathing Madeline in front of me, and I felt an involuntary smile cross my face.

She’s always been so poised She even sits on the loveseat as if she’s posing for a portrait.

Madeline was still wearing her sheer black robe and champagne colored panties. She held her hands out to me, motioning for me to come to next to her and sit. I took her hand and sat next to her on the loveseat.

“Come ‘ere, Cherie.”

I motioned to the painting over her bed with my eyes.

“Another Claude original?”

“Oui.”

“I like this one more than the one in the living room. It‘s so much more lifelike. It’s very … erotic.”

Indeed, her artist lover had caught something in her, or brought something out, that was captivating. Her skin was less white than the alabaster tub on which she sat, and her hair was as dark as midnight. The smile on her face struck me as a combination of emotions: modesty and pride perhaps. Modesty at posing nude for the painter, yet pride in her own beauty. Or maybe she had posed at that point in her life where innocence and sexual awareness combined to form a fledgling sensuality. 

“Merci,” she smiled back to me. “I am sure that Claude would ‘ave appreciated the compliment. ‘E called it ‘is Pièce de résistance.”

She got a momentary look of melancholy over her face as she glanced at the painting. It was as if a dark thought entered her head, not so much to cast a pall over our presence together, but rather a ghost reminder of something very old. After all, she was referring to Claude in the past tense. She quickly snapped back into a beaming smile and turned to me.

“Come ‘ere to me, Cherie.”

My hand held in hers, she pulled me towards her as she stood. Madeline reached for the towel around my waist and gently tugged it loose. It fell to the floor at our feet, and I stood before her naked as I had in the living room earlier when she had begun this seduction.

“You deed not really want to wear that, deed you?”

She dragged it with her foot to the side and I proudly took in a deep breath as she ran her fingers over my chest again. My erection was still at full staff. It was the only answer she needed.

“Ooh, you do stay excited, non?” she said as she lightly brushed my manhood with the fingers of her other hand.

“We,” I answered in a bad Americanized accent. She giggled.

“Oh, so now you are fluent en Français?” Madeline stroked her fingers across my chin and lower lip. “M'embrasser, mon amour,” she said. 

I stared at her with the gaze of a dullard.

“Kees me,” she whispered.

I hesitantly pressed my mouth against her lips and kissed her. Madeline ran her right hand around the back of my lower body and held my left cheek in her hand. She wrapped her left hand around the back of my head as she kissed me. Her mouth was warm and moist; the seal our lips made as they pressed against each other created a mild sucking sensation. It was wonderful. I could feel the probing of her tongue at my lips. It was the best kiss I ever had. The excitement of it made my already rigid staff begin to twitch.

Goosing me, Madeline pulled me closer to her body and my erection pressed against her warm flesh. She kept me close to her, guiding me with her hand on my rear.

“Mmm Cherie,” she said, “you do indeed stay excited.” She pulled back and brushed her fingers lightly along the length of my shaft several times more, dragging her fingernails along the underside of my manhood.

“That feels … I like … ahh,” I stammered as she fingered my tool.

“Well now, I theenk I might be able to do something for thees,” she said. “Are you ready for a leetle ‘elp, Cherie?”

“Help?” I asked.

“Oui. ‘Elp with what you told me earlier. Your leetle ‘obby.”

I was speechless. I just nodded my head.

She traced the length of my penis with the crimson tip of her fingernail, then turned away from me. I watched her step to the large mahogany armoire and open its doors. She pulled out the center drawer and started to sift through many pairs of panties. She took out two pair. In her left hand she held a pair of dark blue silk panties that were tastefully decorated with swirls of gold. In her other hand she held a pair of maroon satin panties with gold pinstripes.

“Which do you prefer, the silk or the sateen?” she asked.

“Well, I really don’t know. They’re both so pretty.”

Madeline stepped back to me and pressed both of her panty-clad hands against my chest. With her left hand she rubbed the blue panties around my chest, and with her right hand she rubbed the maroon panties down the length of my body and around to the left cheek of my bottom. All I could do was close my eyes and sigh a deep contented breath as Madeline caressed my flesh with delightful silk and satin tenderness.

“Ahh, mon amore, I told you I would ‘elp you,” she said as she tended to my flesh.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “that…helps a lot.” I started to breath deeply. I smiled.

Indeed, Madeline had promised to “help” me earlier as we sat on her sofa sharing champagne. This seduction had begun with my confessing to her that I was a panty fetishist. It was a secret about which only a few people knew, but the list was growing. While I had sat on her sofa, weakened by the effects of the wine and her charms, I confessed all to Madeline. I confessed that I loved the look and the feel of all kinds of panties from cotton bikinis to elegant silk tap pants. I confessed that I loved the feel of them as I rubbed them against my body in those quiet, private moments when I indulged in my fantasies. I also confessed that three wonderful women, my Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters, Patti and Bambi, provided me with these exquisite garments and the conditions under which they did so. Panties for pay; I worked for panties.

Madeline took in all this information. She took it in and decided that she too would “help” me. However, I had a feeling that before this night was over I might really need some help. Patti had once warned me about Madeline, something like ‘she licked her chops the moment she saw you’ or something to that effect. Well, Madeline the huntress had her prey just where she wanted him, and she had moved in for the kill.

My joint was as stiff as it had been all night long. I wanted to touch this woman. Until now she had been the one to make all the moves, but I sensed that she would be receptive to my touch. At least that is what I wanted to believe. While she continued to caress my body with her panties, I put my hands on her hips and squeezed too hard.

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Did I hurt you?” I was afraid I had ruined everything. I recoiled a little and let go of her. I knew my own strength. The problem was that I did not know the degree of her sensitivity. Let’s face it, I was in pretty uncharted waters for me.

“I am fine, Cherie,” she reassured me. “But I am not going to run away from you. If you ‘old a woman too tightly, she may slip out of your ‘ands. You would not want thees.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again.

“Don’t be sorry. Be gentle, Cherie. That is what a woman wants. ‘Ere, ‘old me as you deed before, only not so ‘arshly.”

Madeline placed my hands back on her hips with her fingers overlapping mine and she squeezed very gently. She looked me straight in the eyes as she spoke.

“ ‘Ere Cherie, like thees,” she said. “That is ‘ow you should ‘old a woman. Don’t be afraid to touch me. If it makes you ‘appy, then touch me anywhere you would like as I ‘ave done weeth you. That will make it all the more enjoyable for the both of us.”

With that she stroked the length of my ever-hardening manhood with her satin-pantied hand. The feeling was exquisite. I responded by slowly and gently brushing my right hand up and down the side of her body.

“Like this?” I asked as I lightly ran my fingers up from the lacy trim of her panties, up inside her wispy robe to just under her breasts.

“Oui. C’est bon. Much better. I like that. See, you catch on quickly. You can ‘old a woman longer weeth a gentle touch. ‘Old ‘er right, and she will never be able to slip away.”

I caressed her body, gently, up and down from her panties to just under her breasts. I wasn’t bold enough yet to actually grab her bosom, so I just let my fingers and palm wander around along the length of her skin. I was bold enough, however, to begin fondling her derriere with my left hand. I had wrapped it around the back of her body as she had done to me, and mimicked the motions that she made. My own ignorance of how to touch a woman led me to a wonderful discovery. Gentle works like glue.

“Ahh, Cherie that is very nice. That is good. Always begin by touching a woman slowly, softly.” Her eyes fluttered and she pulled herself close to my ear. “Me toucher doucement. Me toucher lentement,” she whispered.

Sure. Whatever.

Standing there by her bed we continued to caress each other’s body. I don’t know exactly what effect it was having on Madeline, but I was slowly realizing excitement in areas that I had previously ignored. I am a man after all, and as such most of my masturbatory attention focuses on a relatively limited area of my own body. Madeline did not focus on any one area. She roamed her hands over my torso, her hands clad in silken finery. I felt the softness over my ass and chest. I felt hairs rise on the back of my neck as her hand came down over my shoulder and down to my chest, her fingernail circling my nipple.

My own fingers seemed to sense more as I touched her softly. Her body was warm and soft. There was less of the firmness of muscle tone that I felt when I hugged my girlfriend, Gail, or even my aunt and her sisters. But then, I had never been this intimate with any of them. Madeline’s flesh was much more tender, and I started to treat her in a more delicate way.

We just stood caressing and fondling, and gazing into each other’s eyes. There was something going on behind hers, some plot she was hatching. I could sense it. For my part I just stared at her learning each and every line of her face. The uncharacteristic patience I showed fondling her must have translated into a better sense of observation. I noticed things about Madeline that I had not noticed before. I found myself examining a woman in a totally different way.

Her face was indeed beautiful, but there were slight imperfections that were accents to her countenance. She had tiny little crow’s feet around her eyes; they were just slight lines. Her nose had a very gentle tilt to the left that was hardly noticeable unless you looked at her head on at eye level. Her teeth were white, but one or two were only slightly out of perfect alignment.

Madeline’s lips were perfect, flawless. She had full pouty lips that, true to her style, were made up with just the right amount of lipstick.

Her breasts remained uncharted territory to my hands. Madeline had let no part of my body unattended to, but I had not yet ventured forth to touch those wonderful globes. I slowly eased my hands along the side of her body bringing them to a convergence between her breasts. I started to bring my fingers to her bosom, but at the last second I lost my nerve and slowly pulled my fingers away.

“You are a tease, Cherie,” she said with a deep breath.

Madeline squeezed the skin around my waist with both hands. It tickled and I flinched.

“Oh, are we a leetle ticklish?” she asked.

“Yeah, just a bit,” I answered.

“Mmm, I may ‘ave some fun weeth that.”

“Please don’t. I can’t stand to be tickled.”

“Well then, you ‘ave to answer my question or I will tickle you more,” she said. “Do you prefer the blue silk or the burgundy sateen panties?”

I pondered this for a moment. They were both so smooth and sensual. It is so difficult to make a decision sometimes, but I decided to go with the traditional answer, or at least what I thought the traditional answer was.

“I, ah, I like the silk more.”

“Well I thought you would. I theenk most men prefer silk. It is so wonderful, non?”

Madeline dropped the maroon panties to the bed and held out the blue panties in front of me.

“’Ere Cherie, step into them,” she said.

“What?” I was amazed. “You want me to put them on?”

“It is not what I want that is important right now. It is what you want. You do want to step into them, non?”

With her free hand she began to scratch her fingernail across my chest and through my chest hair.

“No. I mean yes. I … I don’t know.”

“Cherie, you told me ‘ow you like to wear the panties when you are alone, oui?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“And I ’ave offered to ‘elp you, oui?” she whispered more quietly.

“Well, yes you did.”

“So I am ‘elping you now. Trust me, it will be nice,” she whispered into my ear almost inaudibly. With that said, she kissed my cheek and playfully pinched my nipple, and I thrust my chest out involuntarily and stood erect.

Well what the heck was I going to do, put my clothes on and leave? Of course I was not. So I stepped into the blue, silk panties that Madeline held out for me. She pulled them up my legs and to my hips. They fit well enough, and they were very sensual, of course. Now I was in uncharted waters. All my previous panty play was done alone in the privacy of my bedroom with the one exception of the bizarre “interview” conducted by my Aunt Sherrie shortly after she discovered my fetish. There I had a pair of panties on under my pants in the company of three women. Here I was with Madeline in the privacy of her bedroom, naked but for the silk panties, and ready for sex.

Something flashed into my memory as Madeline pulled the panties up my legs and rested them on my hips. It was something that Patti had said to me in the past. I thought about it as I looked at the tent that my erection made in the underwear: your fetishes are more enjoyable when you share them with someone. For a moment I remembered the look in Patti’s eyes as she washed my hands that day. I remembered how much she seemed to enjoy caressing and washing my hands, feeding her own fetish. I was aroused then, as was she.

Now I stood here with Madeline clad in a pair of her dark blue silk panties with a raging erection throbbing almost uncontrollably beneath it all. Madeline held me by the hips and gracefully slid her hands back and forth across the panties I wore. She caressed my bottom and my erection. The feel of someone else, this mature woman, touching me through the silk was greater than anything I had done to myself.




Will Work for Panties Ch. 06



Patti was right. I had never felt anything so exquisite as the feel of Madeline’s fingers through the silk panties. That was when it first started dawning on me. It was the realization that Madeline was playing into my most private fantasies. She was orchestrating this seduction tailor made to my fetish and my desires. In doing so she had claimed control of me, and I was glad to give it to her.

Okay Madeline, I’m yours. What do you want me to do?

“That feels so good,” I admitted. I reciprocated by caressing her panties in the same way.

“Bon. Very good. I am glad that you like the feel. Now will you do something for me?”

“Yes. Of course. Anything.”

She placed her hands up on my shoulders and applied the slightest downward pressure. I sank to my knees in front of her and got a beautiful view of the champagne colored panties she was wearing. Madeline wrapped her fingers around the back of my head and without saying a word pulled me gently in to the crevasse between her legs.

“Now, slowly mon amore,” she said as she let her sheer robe fall to her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

She guided my lips to the smooth fabric of her panties. I pressed them lightly against her. Once, then twice, then three times I kissed her softly and gently as she said I should.

“Oui. Très bon, mon amore,” she sighed in her native tongue. “Très bon.”

I braced her hips with my hands beneath the sheer black robe. I slid my forefingers under the hip of her panties and held her lightly while kissing her through the garment with longer and longer contact. I breathed in deeply the smell of her body that came from that very sensitive area. The warmth of her soft flesh came through the silk, which was turning damp. I pressed kisses wherever there was silk, from her hips to the crevasse between her thighs. I searched for her womanhood. I kissed her as thoroughly and as imaginatively as I could. I played out every fantasy of kissing a panty-clad woman that I ever had.

She stroked her fingers through my hair and continued murmuring in French while I searched for her clitoris through the silk. I began to pay exclusive attention to it with my mouth.

Her panties were beautiful shimmering silk. A lacy black band wrapped around the waist and legs. The crotch began to dampen from the moistness of my mouth and her juices. A dark spot formed between her legs and there is where I concentrated. While kissing her wet spot I ran my hands across her panties, caressing her through the silk as she had done to me.

Perhaps not contented with letting me guide myself over her body, Madeline began to exert a subtle control. A tilt to the left from her hands and I moved my head into a different position. A tilt upward and my lips were repositioned. She used this subtlety to guide me to do exactly what she wanted me to do.

I pressed my tongue against her wet spot and wiggled it around a piece of flesh that was growing harder, almost erect.

“Voila,” she exclaimed, excitedly. “C’est bon. C’est très bon, mon amour. Encore. Le faire encore.”

“Huh?”

“Do that again, Cherie. S'il vous plaît.”

I pressed my tongue, a little harder this time, and wiggled again against the same spot.

“Cela l'est,” she exclaimed.

I pressed again, lightly.

“Ah, bon. You are learn…”

I cut her off with a nibble. I actually wrapped my mouth around the damp spot on her panties and gave a quick light nibble to that piece of flesh.

“Ah, encore,” she demanded.

I nibbled again, and again she called for more. I must have hit a very sensitive spot. Madeline lost control. Her panties got damper.

“Oui. Oh, oui Cherie. Encore, encore. Ahh, c’est bon. C’est bon.”

Madeline’s mind switched to her native language and she twitched twice two involuntarily. She took a few long, deep breaths. 

She stopped me right there. After closing her eyes and composing herself she gently pushed me back on my heels. She made eye contact with me with the most serious look I have ever seen on a woman’s face. I felt as if I were about to be devoured, and suddenly I was nervous again.

Her robe fell around her ankles. I had not seen her untie it. She stood before me naked except for her panties. She pulled me up to her and fondled her breasts in her own hands. She had flawless white skin, and her breasts were large, round globes with small red nipples.  Without saying a word she pushed them up with her hands and glanced down at them briefly. Looking back at me with that serious gaze, she offered them to me.

It was all instinct now. I licked the nipple of her breast and tasted her smooth skin. Closing my eyes, I wrapped my lips around her erect nipple, and gently sucked on her soft warm flesh. My right hand stayed on her hip, but my left hand drifted to the crevasse. Through the silk, I stroked the damp spot with the knuckle of my forefinger. I nibbled on her nipple.

“Oui, oui,” she whispered softly. “M'embrasser doucement. Me toucher lentement.”

I could feel her heart beating faster as her chest rose not with each stroke of her clitoris, but rather with each suck of my mouth on her breast. Each time she inhaled she squeezed my panty-clad erection between her fingers. I trapped her nipple between my teeth and pulled on it gently. Releasing it, I slid my tongue around the flesh and then sucked before beginning the sequence again.

This could have gone on forever, my sucking at her nipples while she fondled me through the silk panties she had put on me. I would have been content to maintain that position, mouth wrapped around her breast and finger stroking her sex, just as long as she kept fondling me. I was impossibly hard. My manhood raged and twitched and throbbed.

I do not know how long we continued this embrace of sucking and stroking. I could feel Madeline’s chest heave with each breath, and her body warmed. I was breathing through my nose so as not to break the seal on her body, but I must have been getting little air. I felt faint.

Perhaps just in time to prevent me from passing out, Madeline lifted my chin away from her breast.

“Lie back on the bed, Cherie,” she instructed.

“Sure,” I answered.

I lay back on the bed, my legs hanging over the edge, and my manhood stuck up through the panties like the Eiffel Tower clad in silk. Madeline stood before me and removed her own panties. Holding them in her left hand, she climbed up on the bed and crawled up my body until her legs straddled my hips.

“Let me leeberate thees for you, Cherie,” she said as she pulled my panties aside and freed my erection.

“Ah, voila,” she said. “C'est libre.”

It sprang into place as if wound up by a steel coil. Madeline gracefully stroked my bobbing rod. She smiled at me with a serious grin. It was not a playful, frolicking smile. She looked like a cat that was about to devour a mouse that it has been toying with. The game was fun, the hunt was enjoyable, and taunting the poor creature fulfilled a primeval desire. However, now it was time to put the poor victim out of its misery and sate the hunter’s hunger.

My hardness bobbed against her leg. The panty leg pulled against the base of my shaft. My member felt more sensitive than I could ever remember. My face felt hot. I felt more aware of my surroundings, as if all of my senses had been heightened.

Madeline repositioned herself slightly. I could feel her holding my erection and guiding me towards her womanhood.

“Are you ready, mon amore?”

“Ye…ah, I…I, ye…ah,” I stammered.

“Ah Cherie, relâcher. Relâcher, mon bel homme,” she whispered as she stroked my face with her free hand.

Madeline rocked her body back holding the base of my hardness in place. She rocked back and slipped me into her body. A warm, moist feeling enveloped my most sensitive flesh as she slowly, patiently slid back onto me. I held her hips and lifted my hips slightly pushing myself into her.

Madeline rocked back and took me deep into her body, but she did not sit still. Just as soon as she had rested into my lap she pulled herself forward. I could feel myself withdrawing from her body. I lifted my hips again to try and re-enter her, but she stopped me.

“No, no. Try to keep it in rytheem, Cherie,” Madeline said reassuringly. “I go up, but you go down.”

We repeated the movement awkwardly. Perhaps three or four more times before I found the proper rhythm passed, but soon Madeline was orchestrating a patient melding of our bodies. She controlled me gently, as she had when she directed my head as I knelt before her worshiping her panties and her body.

The panties I wore added a minor tension. I could feel the silk rubbing against my shaft, and it felt good, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Madeline’s body rising and lowering herself onto my sex.

We did not speak for what seemed like a long time. The tracks on the compact disk player changed at random. A variety of songs played on the machine. I lost all track of time and was humping Madeline from below to the whirring sound of the compact disk carousel as it rotated between songs. During that moment of near silence we fucked to the sound of our own quiet breathing.

Madeline quietly rocked herself up and down on my body, all the while giving me that serious smile that made me feel like a lamb led to the slaughter. I quietly raised and lowered my hips in concert with hers. I held her hips and her waist. I found that I did not need to support her body, so I reached for her breasts and fondled them.

Our pace never quickened very much. Madeline seemed to enjoy the slow steady cadence she had established. For me it was a departure from the furious pace with which I would flog myself in my quiet times alone with my panty collection. My typical panty fuck could be a blur both physically and mentally. I would pump my penis with my fist while my mind raced from one erotic fantasy scene to another. However, Madeline’s tranquil tempo had me relaxed. All my mind could focus on was Madeline and the feel of her body.

I felt the warmth and softness of her legs. I did not just sense that they were there. I could actually feel them on a different level, as if her legs straddling my body were a part of the sexual experience rather than just skin on skin. Of course, that is how it was with Madeline that night; every sensation was amplified. I could feel each of her fingers now pressed against my chest, her crimson nails scratching me ever so gently. I felt her breasts with my fingers and manipulated her nipples, taking the time to appreciate the hardness of them juxtaposed against her soft bosom. It was a patient awareness unfamiliar to me.

Her serious smile began to take on a peculiar visage. Her eyes glazed over and became watery. She seemed to loose focus of my face.

“I want you to use your finger, Cherie,” she said as she took my right hand from her breast. “’ere, I want you to play ‘ere.”

She placed my finger to her clitoris.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Play weeth it, mon amore. Play as you ‘ave weeth my neeple,” she answered. “Go back and forth, back and forth.”

I did not want to touch her too hard. I kept in mind what she had told me earlier about being gentle with a woman. So I decided to just barely touch her and work myself up to something more aggressive if necessary. What I did not count on was that my barely there touch is exactly what would send her over the edge.

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Le faire encore. Just like that. Back and forth, mon amore. Oui.”

“What, lightly just like this,” I said as I again barely stroked her clitoris.

“Oh. Oh! Oui, Cherie. C’est bon. C’est très bon.”

“Oh, I see. Just like this.” And again I gave her the same finger work three times in succession.

“Ah, yes. Oui. Ah, ah, oh.” She quickened her pace and rocked atop me faster.

I raised and lowered my hips in rhythm with her, and she pumped faster and faster as I fingered her. Our slow steady pace gradually turned frantic. Madeline was losing some of her composure. I could feel her nails digging into my chest a little harder, but I did not mind. Now she was pinching my nipples firmly and in cadence as she humped me. I squirmed slightly from my ticklishness, but allowed myself to enjoy it.

I fingered her clitoris a little faster, but I was not keeping up with Madeline’s pace of pumping herself up and down on my cock. Her eyes were closed. She was mouthing something, but I could not tell if it was in French or English. She was inaudible. The expression on her face changed. It looked like she might cry, but then she would smile. I just kept fingering her and raising my hips as best I could to keep up with her all the while amazed at how she had lost her comportment.

The songs in the compact disk player continued to change. The slow beat of the songs was all out of rhythm with our now up-tempo lovemaking.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Madeline started moaning loudly.

She leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of my head. Her breasts came down almost to my mouth. She pumped me faster now, faster than she had yet.

“Oh! Oh!” she cried out as she pounded down on my cock. 

I thrust myself up and into her body on each of these furious humps. I felt a trickle of moisture roll off my forehead and down the back of my neck. I know that I was holding her hips more firmly than before. I let go of her hip with my right hand and palmed her breast. I squeezed her breast with each thrust I made into her body.

“Ah-ha. Ah. Ah-ha. Oh.” Madeline made a series of exclamations. Her face contorted, she slowed down. Her once furious pounding of my hardness subsided to a gentle slide.

The smile returned to her face as she sat back up on my body. She stopped humping me and just sat on my cock with a subtle grinding motion.

“What…happened,” I panted. I was half out of breath.

“J'ai arrivé,” she answered with a devilish smile.

“What?”

“Voila.”

“Aw, come on… Madeline,” I complained. “You know… I don’t under…stand you,” I huffed.

She leaned forward, gently placed her fingers on my cheeks, and kissed me on the mouth. She propped my lips open with her tongue and slid it inside my mouth. We kissed like this for another song. After the tune ended, she pressed her hand against my chest and leaned over to my ear.

“Mon amore,” she whispered, “what I said is that I ‘ave come.”

“You did?” I asked incredulously.

“Mmmm,” she purred. “But you, mon Cherie, you ‘ave not.”

“I know. I’m still hard. Oh, please get off me.”

Wait a minute. What the fuck did I say?

“What Cherie?” she asked puzzled.

“I mean…please…get me off. I can’t even think straight. Come on, Madeline. Please help me come.”

“I ‘ave an idea,” she said. “’Ere, let us roll over. Do not pull out of me, Cherie.”

We managed to roll to the other side of the bed with me still embedded inside Madeline’s wonderful pussy. Now I was on top looking into her eyes. She was still grinning with that evil smile.

“’Ere. Take me at your own pace, Cherie.”

I began humping Madeline slowly at first. It was not enough. I wanted sexual relief and the only way to get that was to pound her as she had been pounding me minutes ago. I quickened my pace.

Madeline squeezed my right ass cheek. She was still smiling, her eyes were closed, and she began panting again.

I humped her hard, but still there was nothing coming out of me. I pumped even more heatedly, and Madeline squeezed both my cheeks, but still nothing came – and neither did I.

Frustrated, I slowed the pace of my thrusts, but I slammed each one into her hard. Madeline’s eyes shot open and she dug her nails into my ass.

“Oh!” we exclaimed in unison.

I could still not get relief.

Pumping my manhood into her sex still, I eased off on her and started humping at a slower pace.

“I should’ve come by now. It’s never this much of a problem.”

I always come real good on a panty fuck. Each time I plow into the panties I get to squirt easily. Just the other night I came with no problem, now I’m actually fucking a living, breathing woman and I can’t come.

As I wondered why I was having this problem I repositioned my hand. Under Madeline were the champagne colored panties she had been wearing. I just thoughtlessly picked them up and tossed them onto her chest.

“Cherie, don’t treat your inability to come as a problem. You should cherish your staying power. ‘Owever, if you really must...”

Madeline took the still damp undergarments and stroked them against my face. As I inhaled I could smell her scent still on them from where her juices collected when I licked her through them. I felt her other hand wrap another pair of the panties around the base of my erection and fondle my testicles.

“Argh!”

I shot a stream of come into her pussy.

“Mmm, I thought so,” Madeline said. “Keep going. Encore.”

I continued pumping Madeline and she rubbed the panties across my face and chin. I squirted a second and then a third time.

“You are a true fetisheest, I see.”

“What…what do you mean?” I asked.

“You only ‘ad your moment when I brought these to you face, Cherie. As you Americans say ‘You are ‘ooked.’”

“Hooked?”

“Oui,” she giggled.

I kissed her and she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close.

“Do not worry. It is nothing to worry about. I understand.”

“Madeline, don’t tell me that you have some experience with these things.”

“Oh. But I do, Cherie.”

***

We lay in her bed recuperating from our lovemaking. I was on my back, and Madeline was cuddled up close to me. By now we had taken a momentary break, discussed the need for me to wash my clothes, put my work rags in the washing machine, and returned to the bed naked all the while.

We kissed and cuddled. Madeline’s body was so soft to my touch that I now could not help but be delicate with her. She gave me full access to anything I wanted to touch. For her part, she stroked my semi-erect penis very gently displaying her familiarity with how to touch a man.

“This wasn’t my first time,” I said. I didn’t know why.

“No?” she asked.

“I only did it once before.”

“Deed what?”

“Had sex,” I answered.

“’Ad sex or made love?”

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“I ‘ope not. ‘Aving sex is merely mechanical. It is devoid of passion or feeling. Deed we just now ‘ave sex or deed we make love?”

“We…we made love?”

“Are you asking me, Cherie?”

“No. We made love.”

“Oui, et c'était bon. Très bon.”

“Does that mean you liked it?” I asked.

“Oui, et vous?”

“Yes, I liked it too.”

“Cherie?”

“Yes, Madeline?”

“When deed you begin to understand French?”

Damn.

“The first time you ‘deed it,’ was it good for you?”

“No, it was too quick. I rushed through and came too soon and never enjoyed it.”

“And for ‘er?”

“She never spoke to me after that. As a matter of fact I never spoke to her either.”

“You never called ‘er or saw ‘er?”

“I was embarrassed.”

Madeline kissed me gently and reassuringly. She stroked the full length of my body with hers hands.

“Maybe she was too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it ‘er first time as well?”

“Yeah. Yes it was. We kind of dated a few times and then we decided to have sex. It wasn’t a big love scene or anything, and I thought she would tell all her friends how bad I was. I just avoided her after that night.”

“And you were so embarrassed that you never spoke to ‘er again? Weethout ever talking to ‘er about it? Weethout ever understanding ‘er feelings?” she asked.

“That’s right. I guess I did.” Now I felt ashamed.

“Mon amore, do not ever do that again with a woman. Next time, no matter the problem, talk to ‘er.” She kissed me again.

“I will. I talk to my girlfriend all the time.”

“But you ‘ave not made love to ‘er?”

“No.” Then it dawned on me. “Oh crap, Gail.”

“What about ‘er?” Madeline asked.




Will Work for Panties Ch. 06



“Well, I mean me and you. And Gail is out of town for the summer. What do I do? I just cheated on my girlfriend.”

“First of all it is ‘you and me.’ I am French and even I know that much English grammar. Secondly, would you want your first time weeth Gail to be like your last time with that other girl?”

“Lisa.”

“Oui. Would you want it to be like it was weeth Lisa.”

“No, I’d want it to be good.”

“Well, ‘ave you learned anything tonight?” she smiled as she asked the question.

“Yeah. Take it slow, breath easy, lot’s of foreplay…”

“So tonight was a learning experience?” she interrupted.

“Yes.”

“So, that is a good theeng. Is it not?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I guess so. Just…” I trailed off.

“Just what, Cherie?”

“What if when I do make love to her I can’t come without a pair of panties in my face?”

“Well then I would suggest this.”

“What?” I begged.

“’Ave ‘er put a pair of panties in your face, and enjoy. Apprécier votre temps ensemble.” 

We laughed together, although I had no idea what she said last.

“So, you’re like a teacher.”

“’If it ‘elps you to theenk of me that way, then so be it.”

“Was Claude your teacher?” I asked. I was fearful of broaching a sensitive subject, but my mouth got ahead of my mind.

“Oui. Claude was my l'enseignant dans l'amour. ‘E was a wonderful man, and I loved ‘im very much. ‘E taught me so much about art, and music, and love. When I arrived in Paris as a young woman I ‘ad no such experience. I grew up on a small farm, but I wanted to be a model so I moved to Paris.”

“That’s where you fell in love with him?”

“Oui. ‘E seduced me.”

“Like you did to me tonight?” I asked.

“No Mon Cherie, Claude ‘ad to work at it.”

“What? Was I that easy?”

“Cherie, I theenk you knew exactly what was ‘appening.”

I just lay back and sighed.

“I think you’re right. So, Claude was in love with you, too.”

“Oui, Claude and I were in love for a long time. We were not always together, but we always came back to each other. That portrait ‘anging over the bed, the one you said you liked, that was the last portrait Claude ever painted. We ‘ad been apart for several years, but when we came together again after such a long separation ‘e painted that and poured all of ‘imself into it.”

I rolled onto my elbow to get a better look at the painting. I sat up in the bed and admired the artist’s handiwork.

“It is a beautiful painting. I’m not a big art fan, but this is really something else. You are so beautiful.”

“Merci, Cherie. ‘E panted that in ‘is studio. I remember when ‘e was done we made love in that very bathtub.”

“That couldn’t have been very comfortable,” I snickered.

“Fill a tub weeth warm water and two hot lovers, and it can be very comfortable. Oui, very comfortable indeed,” she replied.

“I’ll bet you two were splashing around like drowning sailors.”

She did not say anything. She just smiled a big smile, her teeth gleaming even in the dimness of the room. Madeline wrapped her arms around me and kissed me firmly again and again.

“Oui, mon amore. We made love like two people possessed.”

She stopped kissing me and just rested her head on my chest.

“It is good to be ‘ere weeth you, Cherie,” she said.

“I’m happy I’m here with you too, Madeline.”

I paused before saying anything else. I was so curious I could not help but ask. I really wanted to know what had come of the steaming hot love affair between Madeline and Claude. It was a mystery, and I had to get to the bottom of it.

“Madeline,” I hesitated. “What happened to him? What ever happened to Claude?”

Madeline kept her head on my chest. I did not ask again. If she wanted to answer me she would, otherwise I would just respect her privacy. However, she stirred from my chest, rolled onto her elbow and looked me deep in the eyes.

“What ‘appened to Claude?” she repeated my question.

“Yeah?”

“My ‘usband shot him.”

“What!”

***

“Claude and I ‘ad planned to be married when I first started modeling for ‘im. I loved ‘im very much, and I so wanted to be ‘is wife. Fate, ‘owever, ‘ad other plans for us. Claude was a struggling artist, and not one to settle down easily. So, I waited for ‘im.

“Claude always ‘ad ‘is eye out looking at the ladies. Claude was quite the ladies’ man, and I often felt as if I were in competition weeth some of ‘is other girls. They would swoon over ‘im for ‘is art. ’E would promise to make them famous, and they could not resist ‘is charms. I suppose I was no deeferent. 

“I wanted to marry ‘im, and ‘e said that ‘e anted to marry me too, but ‘e never got around to doing so. It was one of the theengs that kept us apart over the years. The day never seemed to come when Claude would want to settle down.

“Well, a woman can only wait so long for a man, even the one she loves weeth all of ‘er ‘eart. I grew tired of waiting. I met Emile during a time when Claude and I were apart. Emile swept me off my feet, and before I knew it, we were married.

“Emile was a wealthy man, and many years older than I. He deed business with the Arabs over oil. Even weeth all that I ‘ad learned from Claude in all our years together, Emile opened up many more doors for me. All of a sudden I was immersed in ‘is world; traveling to exotic places and meeting powerful people. It was all quite dizzying for a young woman from a simple place, but it was wonderful.

“I was very comfortable in the life that ‘e provided. Emile gave me almost everything a woman could want. I ‘ad money, fine clothes and expensive jewelry. But as time went by I realized that I was a mere trophy for ‘im. There was leetle love in the marriage, and I soon began to pine for my Claude.

“I began to model for ‘im again. Emile deed not object since he felt it gave ‘im greater status to be married to a model. What ‘e deed not know, but may ‘ave suspected, is that Claude and I began our love affair anew. This time we were more passionate than ever.

“Our affair lasted many years. You are an American, so for you it would seem very strange, but in France a man or woman may ‘ave a lover other than one’s spouse for many years. Some even ‘ave many lovers all at once. For me there was only Claude. We kept it secret for a long time, and we enjoyed every minute.

“We made love in the studio whenever Claude painted me. Once Claude tried ‘is talent at clay, and we wound up covered in clay. Claude never finished that statue.

“But I was still another man’s wife. And when that man felt that ‘e ‘ad been made a fool of, ‘e lost all control.

“’I will kill him!’ ‘e raged. I was very scared for Claude. I knew that Emile was very, very angry, and I deed theenk that he could kill my Claude.

“The night that Emile made the threat, I snuck out of our ‘ouse and went to see Claude to warn ‘im.

“I pleaded weeth Claude to leave Paris. I pleaded weeth ‘im to go to Amsterdam where ‘e ‘ad a brother.

“’I will not go, Madeline,’ ‘e told me. ‘I am tired of hiding, and I will not run away.’

“’Do not be foolish,’ I said to ‘im. ‘Please go before my ‘usband finds you.’

“There was no knock at the door. It just burst in, and into the room stormed Emile. ‘E ‘ad a gun in ‘is ‘and. ‘E pointed it at Claude and threatened ‘im.

“’Take your hands off my wife’ ‘e yelled. ‘Step away from her.’ Emile called ‘im vicious names.

“I stepped between them, my ‘usband and my truest love. ‘Please Emile, no,’ I cried. ‘Leave ‘im alone. I will leave ‘im. I will come back to you. Please leave ‘im alone.’

“Claude protested, ‘No, we shall not be apart. This man does not even love you, he only wants to possess you, like an object; something to enhance his status. I love you, and we should never be apart.’

“Claude charged at Emile. They fought over the gun. I screamed out of the window calling for the gendarmes, but none came fast enough. They struggled for the gun and it went off. Emile stood weeth the gun in ‘is ‘and. Claude dropped to the floor. ‘E was dead.”

I was stunned. I sat on the bed, naked, with my jaw dropped down into my lap. My head was light and the room seemed to spin after Madeline told me the story. It was just so intense: the tragic love triangle. Madeline was propped on one elbow, and she looked back towards the painting.

“Emile went to prison. ‘E is no longer weeth us. I was left alone, comfortable if not incredibly rich for Emile ‘ad partners who divided much of the business. I wanted to leave Paris. I wanted to leave France and never return. The memories were so painful.

“I took the art that Claude ‘ad left behind, especially the nude ‘e ‘ad painted that ‘angs above my bed. I moved ‘ere to America, and in time I started my life again. I ‘ad learned much about business from Emile. Most of what I ‘ave now is what I earned.

“C’est la vie. Life goes on and you learn to conquer new challenges.”

I had to say something. I could not just lay there dumb. I felt like I had to offer some sort of comfort or condolence to her. But what the hell does someone say to something like this.

“Are you okay?” What the fuck am I saying? She didn’t stub her toe, she just poured out her heart, you fucking imbecile.

“I am fine, Cherie.” She smiled as she brushed her fingers along my chest, scrapping hers nails lightly across my nipples.

“I mean, after all these years…well…do you find yourself, I don’t know…crying over it all?” I asked.

“Sometimes, but not very often. It was a long time ago, in a place now far away. I ‘ave my memories, and they are mostly ‘appy ones.”

I took her hand and held it. I never felt like I had to reassure someone before, but I could see in her eyes she was not about to start crying. It was her life. She had dealt with whatever pain she had, and while her memories were undoubtedly strong she had certainly moved on. Now she was seducing young America carpenters in lingerie shops.

“You are sweet to express such concern, but it is misplaced, Cherie,” she said.

“Really?” I replied.

“Oui. This is not a night about sadness. This ‘as been a night about ‘appiness; n’est pas?”

“I’m happy if you’re happy,”

“I am very ‘appy, mon amore. Tonight, I ‘ave been ‘appy ‘ere weeth you.”

We made love again that night. This time Madeline rode me until I came inside her. She stroked my face with her champagne colored panties and caressed my body with her long crimson nails, but this time something felt different. Getting to know her more personally through her story, I felt like there was a greater connection. There was greater passion as our bodies melded together.

Madeline put my clothes in the dryer. In a little while I would be ready to go home, late though it was. We lay in her bed naked, holding each other, kissing and caressing. Madeline kept murmuring little things in French into my ear. I did not know what she was saying, but I did not care. It was a wonderful night.

When the dryer buzzed to announce that my clothes were dry I got them and dressed. 

“Thees is for you, Cherie.” She handed me a check. “It is for the work downstairs.”

I tucked it into my shirt pocket.

“And these are for the work upstairs.” With that she handed me the three pairs of panties that we made part of our lovemaking that night. I was not expecting that.

“But…I didn’t think that…” the sentence just stopped there. Madeline placed another kiss on my mouth and prevented me from speaking further.

“I told you that I would ‘elp you,” she said. “And now I know what makes you tick. So I am giving these to you. Keep them as a memory. They are special.”

“Thanks,” I said. 

I looked at her and decided to kiss her myself. Wrapping my arms around her body, I pulled her close to me mindful to hold her gently, as she had taught me. I kissed her warm moist mouth and this time I probed her with my tongue.

“Mmm, Vincent,” she said as our lips parted.

“Yes, Madeline,” I answered.

“You are a very quick learner, Cherie.”

***

The ride home was one hell of a trip. I was bouncing on cloud nine. I could not think straight. I was so fucked up that I started heading in the wrong direction after I pulled away from Madeline’s store, The French Boutique.

I did not get four blocks before I ran a red light. At such a late hour that it should not have mattered, but I got pulled over by a traffic cop.

“License and registration,” he said.

“Is there a problem, officer?”

“Yeah, you just blew through that red light back there.”

“Oh. Sorry. I guess I didn’t see it.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, couldn’t be better.”

“You been drinking?”

“Not for a while.” Shit, that was stupid.

“Son, you want to step out of the car. I’m going to initiate a field sobriety test.”

“Uh, uh-huh.”

I got out of the car, followed his finger with my eyes, walked a straight line heels to toes, and then blew into his breathalyzer gizmo. I passed, and he let me get back in the car.

“I’m only going to issue a warning for the light since it’s so late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I pulled you over once before, a while back.”

“Hey, now that you mention it I think you did.”

“Well look kid, try to keep your mind on the road. You coming home from a date or something?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am,” I answered.

“Well, try to think of the road more than the girl. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Is this guy fucking crazy?

“Have a good night, son.”

“You too, officer.”

For the rest of the drive home I had six words rolling around in my head.

Don’t I know you from somewhere? Don’t I know you from somewhere? Don’t I know you from somewhere? Don’t I know you from somewhere? Don’t I know you from somewhere?

I pulled the car into the driveway at my house. I sat in the car spending a few moments thinking about Madeline and the night of love making that we shared. I got out of the car and started walking towards the door. It was late and the streetlight was flickering over the entrance to my house. All of a sudden for no reason I had one moment of perfect clarity.

Don’t I know you from somewhere?

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I said out loud.

Don’t I know you from somewhere?

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I said again. “Son of a bitch. That cop is the guy who left the store before Madeline got a hold of me.”

I thought that I had recognized that guy from somewhere.

***

I slipped into the house unnoticed by my family. One of the benefits of being a college man is that they were not surprised that I would be out after everyone went to sleep.

I ensconced myself in my bedroom, secure in the privacy I had for the rest of the night. I stripped down to my shorts to go to bed. I had wanted to just roll over and go to sleep, but sleep was impossible that night. I would spend the entire night awake and staring at the ceiling.

I pulled my shorts off and ran my fingers up and down my manhood. It was not long before it returned to its hardened state. I took the panties that Madeline had given me that night and wrapped the burgundy garment around my shaft to stroke myself through the soft material.

I sniffed at the champagne colored panties. I took in the scent of Madeline’ body. The smell was the same as it had been earlier. My cock twitched at the scent. I sniffed again and again. I pumped my erection and pressed her damp silk panties into my face. I took in a deep breath.

The memory of sliding into her body and making love to her came back to me. All the emotions that raced through my mind connected me to the wonderful night of passion that I had just experienced.

I sniffed again and thought of licking Madeline’s clitoris through the same panties. I sniffed again and thought of kneeling before her, kissing her. Another sniff and I remembered the exquisite feeling of her pussy as she lowered herself onto my body. Each whiff carried a familiar feeling.

I felt a surge building within. I was able to stop in time to grab a condom that I had secreted in a drawer. It was the last one. I thought it a more than worthwhile sacrifice. I put the condom on, and then I resumed stroking.

I sniffed again and again at Madeline’s damp panties. Her story about Claude and Emile, her instructions to be slow and gentle, the warmth of her fingers and flesh began to race through my mind uncontrolled. I pumped harder and harder.

As I rubbed Madeline’s panties across my cheek I exploded one last time for the night. I pumped until it hurt to continue stroking.

Finished with my latest orgasm, I removed the condom and tied it in a knot. I tossed it into the drawer. I put the new panties, including the damp ones, in the drawer with all the others that Aunt Sherrie, Patti, and Bambi had given me. 

What have you ladies gotten me into?

I reminisced over the past fantasies I had of my aunt and her sisters. I handled every pair of panties in the drawer thinking about Patti and her hand fetish, Sherrie and her fetish for men’s erections making tents in their trousers, and Bambi and whatever her purported wild side was all about. These women were all so sexy, and there were so many panties in the drawer now.

I took out the special blue panties, the one’s that are the color of Gail’s eyes. I clenched them in my hand. I rolled over and stared at a picture of her that I kept near the bed.

I tried in vain to fall asleep that night. There were too many thoughts to sort out. Sorting out all my thoughts and feelings would take quite some time, as I was to discover.