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Dark gray, french lace bikini panties. Cotton. Easily my favorite pair.
I shook my head in disbelief once more as I lay back, happily draping them over my face like a veil, with a light pink pair of lace ‘hipster’ panties wrapped around my cock. The rest were scattered all around me. I lay back on my bed quite content, with an arm behind my head and my legs apart, again reliving what had happened to me last week. It was such a thrill to think about her, and be surrounded by her panties like this. It’s like I had a connection with her. An echo of her, like she had just left the room and you could still feel her in the air.
These panties did that. They were as soft and delicate and sexy as she was and it was another stomach tickling thrill to know where they had been. What they were. Even after doing this no less than eleven times in seven days, a surprise in of itself, it was amazing how this still felt every time I headed back into my bedroom.
To think, she had sold them to me. Yes, that’s right. She sold them to me. On the day we met, and after what had taken place in the back of her garage, she had sorted out and bagged up nearly every single pair of her panties that had mistakenly been brought out to that table. Sold them to me. Talk about adding to the entire lustful and naughty nature of what we had done together. That simple brown bag holding the ‘goods’ and how we pretended all was normal up at the change box, yet both still feeling dizzy with that sexual high.
It was electric and kinky, leading me right back to where I was now, laying here looking up at the ceiling through the thin fringe of her French underwear.
I let go out of my cock, slipping the other pair off my face, and rolling over onto my side, I started picking through the other odd pairs I had spread out all over the bed. I never tired of admiring them like this.
I picked through them and held up a small red thong. You can only imagine what she looked like on days she wore this one. That tiny little triangle of cloth doing it’s level best to hug her pussy, while right here, this spot must have been rubbing up against her asshole. All day long. A reminder of how naughty she was being every time she moved, feeling that thong around her.
The thongs gave me trouble, though. They simply didn’t have enough fabric for me to use in my hand, but I was content to press them to my lips. Sometimes I slid them into my mouth with two fingers and lay back again to masturbate, imagining her heat and scent. I felt like such a pervert laying there, but I didn’t care. Being a pervert with her panties was the point, and we both were in on it. Besides, such an opportunity would never come again.
Or would it?
Ever since I arrived home after that first day, I had wracked my brain for ways to contact her. Trouble was, she said it had to be a one time thing. I was well aware of all the consequences surrounding the act of contacting her again, and it had kept me from doing anything stupid.
That, and there was no guarantee she wanted anything more to do with me, right? The odds, in fact, were pretty low. Had she just been a lustful, hot housewife rubbing herself off that morning while her hubby was across town? Had I just been dumb lucky enough to catch her in the right mood? There was no way I could just show up at her front door. That would be an absolute disaster, and there had been no exchange of contact information whatsoever. Take the hint, right?
Dammit. I knew her address and with a little work, I could find out plenty about her, but where do I take it from there? Turn into some kind of creepy stalker?
I sighed. I just had no way of judging what any outcome would be, of any kind, in any way, except all in the negative, and it always came down to a tug of war in my mind shortly after I tugged myself off in another pair of her panties. I came out of my daydream, slipping her moist thong from my mouth, and putting my arm back behind my head. I even twirled it in the air as I lay there mulling things over.
That was the other sorry thing about all this. Her panties. They were all clean. I put my arm across my eyes with a groan, feeling the first stirrings of how this wasn’t going to cut it for too much longer. Something inside me was calling out for more. Had to have more.
I held the thong up with up both hands above my face, interlacing it with my fingers. I was aching for more because I could literally picture her wearing them. For what are panties if not a catch all for the gorgeous woman they are snugged up around? Women surely don’t understand the appeal of their dirty panties, I can tell you that. Well, that’s not exactly accurate. I’m sure they do understand, they just don’t get the base nature of that appeal. The fever heat of scent, touch and taste drowning a man’s senses.
It tells itself in how they say women need a reason for sex, men need a place, and how in my past there were girlfriends who never understood how I found them irresistible at certain times where they felt disgusting. Like right after a work güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri out. Or those days you’re both cleaning the garage in some tattered old clothes, and she has those smudges on her cheeks? With her hair tied up and those few strands falling around her face? Oh yeah, that’s a fine, primitive kind of thing where she thinks she’s all dirty and gross, but you like it. You like her dirty. You want to run your tongue up her sweaty legs and kiss her ass. You want to smell her. You want that taste of body heat and dirty sex as you kiss across her warm tits. Something primitive responds in women too, and rare is the moment they don’t end up wrapping their legs around your face.
I dropped the thong on my chest and laid there with my hands at my sides. There had to be a way to reach her. To let her know. I was thinking, she had enjoyed herself, too, right? What we had done? And you just don’t send a guy off with better than a dozen pairs of your panties and expect him not to think about you. That helped my resolve to learn more about her, despite my anxieties. The thought of her was overpowering any other concerns.
My hand took up another pair of panties without looking and I wrapped them around my painfully hard cock. After a moment, I looked down to watch myself perform what I had done before eleven other times this week alone. Soon to be twelve.
I would think of a way. I had to.
Right after this.
<<<<<< I finished my note and reread it. Then I reread it again. Printing one out was too informal and this was my tenth try by hand, but now it looked pretty good. It was part apology, part offer, part humor and part diary. A combination to let her know what I had been up to. I had thought on the matter for some time, always proceeding from the fact she had enjoyed the concept of me being in possession of her panties. So naturally, she wouldn’t mind at least a follow up, right? Just a note? Still, I couldn’t deny the risks involved and how this all seemed a little surreal. I tucked it into an envelope along with a card giving my cell number and email. There were many worst case scenarios here, but I was going to see it through. Why not? What did I have to lose? I sealed it all up but didn’t get up right away. I just sat there and tapped the letter on the table a few times, looking out my window and psyching myself up to go drop it in the box. “She’s going to think I’m a stalker. Or a creep.” I shook my head. I didn’t stop my line of self recrimination there, nor all the way to the post office, nor up to the window to send my letter off via registered mail. I stepped back out into the cool air, feeling a little queasy and blowing into my hands. Well, I had seen it through. The false summer was over and the days were getting wet and chilly. No more yard sales for me, just me winging it with a letter that was trying to get the attention of a woman that had a power over me I couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it was the naughty nature of it all. Registered mail. Only she and she alone could sign for it. I was smart enough to think of that, at least. <<<<<< Of course, on the way home I regretted sending it. I envisioned almost anyone but her contacting me. Everyone from an enraged husband to the police. I clicked my bedroom light on, tossing my jacket on my office chair. Her panties still lay in a pile on the bed and I leaned against the wall for a moment and stared at them. That woman sold me fourteen pairs of her panties. You don’t go through with something like that on a whim. Something in her enjoyed it. Enjoyed knowing I still had them. This had to work. <<<<<< Nothing. I waited three weeks and nothing. I felt stupid for how much I dwelt on it and how often I checked my messages. Nothing. I clicked laptop shut and slumped back in my chair. Going to all just be a sweet memory then, eh? Or would I be stupid enough to try something else? Then my phone rang. One night at 3 AM it went off right next to my head on the night stand. I was hazy and fumbled around in the dark but finally I grabbed it and keyed the answer. “Hello?” I murmured. “You really are a pervert, you know that?” a melodic voice tilted out at me. I went from hazy to awake in the single blink of an eye. Literally. I sat up and clicked my light on, clearing my throat a little and getting my bearings. “Well…it’s your fault.” I managed to answer. She brushed that aside. “Look, I can’t talk very long, so I’ll make this short.” her voice turned a little formal. I thought for sure I was going to be lectured off on the spot or worse, but if that was the case, why was she calling me now? “Tomorrow night. I’ll call you again, ok? Same time. It should be there tomorrow.” “Wh-what? What will?” I stammered, sitting up higher and starting off into the shadows of my bedroom with a baffled look. “Don’t open it until I call.” And then she was gone. <<<<<< I didn’t think I would have been able to get back to sleep after that, but somehow güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri I managed it. In fact, I slept so heavily, for some time the next day I wondered if I had dreamt it all the night before. Then the mail man was rapping on my door, and a moment later, slightly baffled all over again, I was in the possession of my own registered mail. A wide, flat envelope that bulged slightly.
Like a strange prop from some crime-drama movie, all there was was a post office box for a return address, so for some reason, while withholding her name from me, she had managed to send me a package. It simply dominated the rest of my day and into the night and I if I set the thing down, I found myself looking over at it time and time again. Eventually, I ended up carrying it with me, exploring it as much as I dared and sniffing the corners over and over, catching the lightest hint of a jasmine. While cardboard stiff, the bulge in the center seemed to have a certain softness to it.
Imagine the rush when I figured it out.
Could it possibly be another pair? It didn’t seem like it could be anything else. I’ll say one thing about living alone, there’s no one to see you be your true self, and I fingered and fondled that package with a huge grin on my face every inch the happy and excited idiot I felt myself to be. I kept it near me like a protective kitten with a ball of yarn, but despite my excitement, and with the help of some pizza, eventually I fell asleep on the sofa.
<<<<<< While they don’t exactly ring as loud as those old phones in the movies, the sound of my phone ringing was enough to galvanize me right out of a dead sleep again, and I fumbled and dropped it a second time as I scrambled up to a sitting position. A moment more, snatching it up off the living room floor, I just managed to mute the TV as I finally answered “Hello?” “You didn’t open it, did you?” I felt a bright stab of excitement thrill me from head to toe. I worked some moisture into my mouth and set down the remote. “No, I didn’t.” “What have you been doing?” “To be honest, I fell asleep.” “I must be losing my effect on you.” “Not hardly. I was using your package as a pillow.” It wasn’t true, but it had the desired result. She actually giggled. “If you had known what was in it, you probably wouldn’t have been able to resist.” “Resist what?” “Open it and find out.” Pressing my phone to my cheek with my shoulder, I zipped open the cardboard tab and squeezed the envelope open with both hands. Tipping it over, a plastic baggie slid out and landed in my lap, and there was no mistaking the soft, black lace fabric that was folded up like a tiny burrito inside it. I picked it up slowly, my entire body on edge and my mind buzzing with excitement. “Oh, wow.” “Happy?” she seemed to smile. “Don’t open it yet, though. Let me explain.” “Umm…yeah, I wanted to, uh…well that is to say…you know I don’t want you to think…” “Look, just listen.” she paused, as if making sure we were alone. “…call it whatever you want, but just think of it as someone who never gets a chance to be as naughty as she would like to be, ok?” “I find that hard to believe.” “Don’t get going about me. Stay with me, ok? I need to say this right.” “Ok.” “That being said, this is what it is, ok? And it’s not going to be more. Can you accept that? That if I get a chance, then it’s a chance, but you have to be content with waiting for one like this and not try to…talk me into anything, all right?” “That’s a hard sell. I think you’re the most intoxicating…” “Gushing, remember! Look, I get that. I like that. But for what’s going on here, you got to let it be what it is and leave how you want to feel about me out of it.” “Are you saying to let you act out and for me to just…enjoy it?” “I suppose, so, yeah. Kinda flies in the face of the whole don’t objectify me thing, but I’m not risking you feeling like I am leading you on and getting your mind all twisted up about us.” “I can’t help but…but want you.” “I know…but let’s just play around a little, all right? Let me enjoy this as much as you do.” I smiled, feeling a touch sad, but understanding. “All right.” “Promise?” “I do, I really do.” <<<<<< These little black lace boy short panties were wrapped in simple cellophane and it took just a moment to arrange them like a rare piece of jewelery on the table, with me managing to fold the plastic back without disturbing them. They lay in a few tiny folds of cloth and I didn’t rush to snatch them up, per her instructions over the phone. I finished putting my earbuds in so that whatever was about to happen, it would be hands free. “Ok?” she asked. “Yep.” I replied, breathing out deeply, my heartbeat slow with excitement. “What am I seeing here?” “This is a special pair. The kind of pair you couldn’t take home with you.” “You wore them.” “All day and more.” There was a rustle güvenilir bahis şirketleri of cloth on the other end of her call. No mistaking it. It sounded for all the world like she was getting comfortable on her bed, and I could just imagine her tossing pillows off one by one before doubling a few of them up behind her shoulders, those long sculpted legs being stretched out, her knees up, her thighs apart…
“And more?” my voice was thicker and unsteady as I folded open this delicate little pair, which I now realized she had folded in a certain way, to be unveiled like the treasure they were.
“I masturbated in them.” she said with a resigned little sigh. Her tone was simple, matter of fact even, but notable for how she wasn’t giggling anymore and she sounded like she was sinking into a bubble bath. “…like I am…right now.”
“Oh, God.” I sighed, looking down at them, where a sizable, dry patch of crystallized wetness could be seen in the delicate weave of black cotton right on the crotch. I picked them up like the golden fleece from Greek legend, and her voice filled my mind with electricity in my ear.
“I had them on, like I am laying right now, only right now I’m not wearing anything. Can you imagine it?”
“Yes.” I sighed, turning them inside out and seeing the dry little crystals of her wetness were even more concentrated on the inside, all up and down the crotch, nearly sparkling in the light, being in contrast to the black cotton as they were.
“Just like this. I had them on. I had them in me.” and she actually moaned softly, just a little gasp, and I realized whatever she was doing, be it her fingers or something else, she had just penetrated herself.
“God, my nipples are so hard.”
“So am I.” I said stupidly, though neither of us noticed.
“Taste me. Taste me right now.” she moaned.
I did. I draped the crotch of her panties over my open palm, holding them just so with my other hand, and began immediately licking my tongue up and down the outline of her where her wetness had run and dried. To be honest, even as listened to her masturbating, as she visualized me doing this, the result was a little underwhelming. I didn’t taste anything. What the Hell? I kept licking, and licking some more. I even frowned a little and pulled back, stretching them out with my hands and then focusing my tongue some more, licking my lips before going back at it.
This wasn’t what…and then it happened. Like a scene from a movie, those panties, once thoroughly moistened from my licking, gave up their treasure like I was unlocking some incredible secret. The touch of her tingled on my tongue, waking up my senses, and my eyes lifted up, looking over at the living room wall, as my brain boiled over with that one single pronouncement.
There she is.
Coupled with the sounds of her panting and moaning, seeing her in my mind laying back with her legs up, her pretty fingers at work on her pussy, an incredible thing happened. It was like I was whisked away in The Matrix or something, to be suddenly lying down beneath her, my face at a front row seat for her masturbation, her fantastic legs sliding over my shoulders to make sure I didn’t miss a thing.
That’s what it’s like to do what we did. That’s where she took me with her panties. Where she put me, right there with her, and the tightness in my chest melted into warm amber that flowed down though my stomach and out between my legs like this was the very first time I had ever experienced the touch and taste of a real woman. It stunned me, my strength left my limbs as my body poured all it’s energy into the hardness of my cock, which actually ached in it’s throbbing in my shorts. I tried to hold myself suspended here, preserving the sensation, locked into the very essence of her.
“Oh my God.” I groaned, pressing my face into the wetness of her panties, licking, tasting, sniffing, lifting her from the fabric, sucking the cloth, pulling her in to my mouth as real as if I had my arms around her thighs and was pulling her onto my face.
She too, of course, knew this. I knew where she was in her mind, and how she must have been visualizing the same thing. She responded with a moan of her own, and I could all but see her back arching as she did so.
“God, yes!” she cried out.
“I can taste you. I can taste you.” I growled, repeating it, licking it, sucking it into my lips where her revitalized nectar coated my tongue like smooth olive oil. It was hard to form any words, so we didn’t. She listened to the animal nature of my arousal and I listened to hers, and we only managed to pull ourselves out of it for brief moments.
“Let me hear you!” I groaned and it took her all of a second to hold her phone down between her legs, where her finger was plunging into her pussy with real fire. I will tell you now, there is absolutely no sound like it in the world. You can mimic, but you can never capture, the absolute deliciousness of a woman’s finger in her own pussy. The soft, wet sucking sound of her finger sliding in and out of her, made me subconsciously match the tempo with my own hand, stroking as I lay back on the sofa. By now, so thoroughly wet thru, I had her panties clamped over my face with one hand, with my other hand stroking hard myself openly, simply shoving my boxers down and grabbing myself at the sound of her pleasure washing all through me. She knew it too.
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