My landlady had gone to Asia for sixth months leaving me the run of the flat and I was in heaven, so many nights dressed, so many weekends made-up and being the girl I was inside, or so I thought. Within 3 weeks my freedom was shattered when a woman turns up and informs me that she is a friend of my landlady and has been given permission to stay at the flat. I check and it is true. She is young attractive but a cookoo in my nest!
Though the next few weeks I fume at the misfortune but she does have one saving grace and that is a lovely, no fantastic, line in undies. How do I know? She leaves them on the washing line, on the radiators in the tumble dryer everywhere I go. She does not even dream of how much these riches fill my imagination, how much the very sight of the silk and lace fire my body with desire, how every time I accidentally brush my hands against them I have surges of lust. There is one set in particular that I can’t stop wanting, a pair of creamy peach panties, all silky and lace front and silky back with matching bra. Oh how I sometimes wake in the night and try to not think of them but I can’t, I really can’t.
Then this little interloper in my life goes away for the weekend, at last back to normal. There I am on a Saturday night, nails polished, my bra and panties on standing in front of the mirror doing my make-up, I have been drinking. I have been drinking too much. I know this because the thought that I have been fighting re-emerges and it says "I wonder whether Ms X has left those panties behind". I am a good girl, I respect the privacy of others, I will not look.
I am now in her room "well if they are in the washing basket it is ok…isn’t it?" I search, they are not. There is a lovely pair of black panties which I hold with a growing passion but not "those" panties.
"Leave now" I think but my body fuelled by beer takes me to her drawers, I open one, two, three and there is the shrine that I worship at…a place of silk, lace and flowers..the panty drawer! "they won’t be there" I think as I gently move my fingers through the magic, but they are.
I reach in, my body shakes, I am holding them. There is no going back, I will tell you that I tried to resist but it is a lie, I am pulling off my panties with abandon whilst readying myself for this new ecstasy. I pull them over my feet and draw them up my legs, I make a pretence at my thighs that I am not going to cover my by now super stiff master, I know it’s a lie. I pull them up the last few beautiful inches and let go, I am now encased, my whole being is centred around that fraction of my body between my bellybutton and my upper thigh.
I add the bra, I dress fully, skirt, blouse, tights, shoes, wig, jewellery all the magic stuff but all the time it is all for those panties. I am reliving the very first times when it was so so exciting, I know I am dripping, I know I am doing wrong, and I care nothing. I look at them in the mirror through the tights. I walk about the flat. I go out and walk around the local streets, and all the time I pulsate in that special place.
I get back to the flat, I can wait no longer. My hand caresses my thighs and then finds it’s way up my skirt, I want to delay it but I can’t. I rub the front of the panties gently, those special panties, "goodness that feels…soooo good!" I can’t help myself I know it is so bad but….I carry on rubbing, I am so close and then…." Oh yes" I thank the panties in the way I know how….
I am bad I know, I wash them and hope that it is enough. They go back in the drawer. I am guilty but see them again another time on the line, not with me but I remember them with so much pleasure..
