PANTY STORY # 38

Greetings,

I've been watching your page for some time now, and must say I really enjoy it, especially the stories. So I thought I'd contribute my two favorites for your consideration.

Shopping ... (this is a true story)

As I'm into clean panties, one of the pleasures I occasionally indulge myself in is a shopping trip to the lingerie department. But I manage to turn it into a little game, getting the unsuspecting sales lady to help me in my fantasies. See, I never was brave enough to just wander into a lingerie department and fondle panties to find the pair I wanted, and I never would admit that they were for me. So I came up with the note idea, kinda' like a permission slip to go on a class trip. I picked up some stationary that had lilacs on it, and in a very flowing handwriting (complete with little o's over the i's) I wrote a note to the lingerie sales lady asking her to help me pick out some stuff for "the wife." It was a good note - took me hours to come up with just the right wording. In fact I had to stop several times because I kept getting hard just writing it, just thinking of the best way to ask some stranger to help me pick out panties. "Please help my husband pick out some undies. They should be ..." By dropping the "for me" from the end of the first sentence it left it up in the air as to who the undies were for. Most of the time it was assumed it was for "the wife" and I would be led through the lingerie department, being asked my opinion on what kind of panties we should be getting, does she like pastel, what kind of pattern, what style, etc. I would get so hard and ooze precum on the front of my pants as I walked through the lingerie department feeling all of the fabrics, discussing what kind of panties I should buy. But last week I decided to go a little farther and I wrote that a full slip was needed and that "the wife" and I were about the same height. I wandered into a store I had never been in and in a well rehearsed, embarrassed manner, handed my note over the a short 30-ish woman with curly blond hair, deep blue eyes you could swim in and a very cocked smile. In retrospect I think she knew what I was up to from the very first second. She walked me over to the rack, picked out a very simple slip and slowly, very slowly, let it drift upwards until she was holding it in front of me, at shoulder height, just inches from my body. I swallowed very hard. I asked about the slips over there, the ones with the lace hem. No, she informed me, those weren't as much fun. Besides, this is the type she wears. I almost died. She then replaced the first slip and pulled another one out of the same style, just a little shorter, and again, very slowly, let it drift up to me. She apologized for doing this, for holding the slip against me and embarrassing me, and I assured her it was ok, I mean how else was she going to make sure it was the right length, and she smiled and inched the slip even closer to me. Now it was all but pressed up against me in the middle of the day in the middle of the lingerie department for god and the whole world to see and I was sure my stiff dick was pressing thru the fabric and that for sure she could see the impression all this was having on me. You'll need panties too, right? Here, hold this slip. The panties you want are over there. And with one movement she places the slip over my shoulder and gently grabs my wrist and pulls me over to the panty rack, leading me around the lingerie department like a mother and her little boy, and she bends down to pull some panties off of the bottom rack and slowly, ever so slowly, lets her hand drift up, trying to show me the panties she's selected, but from her perspective (which I can immediately see) she is positioning the panties right in front of my crouch just to size me up. My mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow. We flirted a little at the check out counter and discussed this one particular movie (Pulp fiction) and how she needed to see it again and how she would have to go with her mother because she was not married and did not have a boyfriend to take her. If I wasn't buying this for "the wife" I would have asked her out on the spot.

I checked the video store that night to see if I could purchase the movie for her as a gift of gratitude or something like that, but it wasn't for sale yet.

I was so pleased at how this shopping venture went that I felt I had to try it again, so I rewrote the note to thank her for all of her help, but to complain that the slip was too tight around the bust and could she please exchange it for something shorter and by the way the panties were nice and I need some more. Of course I waited a whole day before I went back and lurked in the shoe department until I saw the same sales lady come into the department. Over I went with my note, which she commented on how nice the note paper was (was I going overboard on preparation here?) and she immediately led me over to the slips again and had remembered my size and was already pulling things off of the rack. And once again she held the slips up against me to check out the size, and again she apologized for doing it, and again I told her it was all right, and by the way "the wife" thought it was a real joke that you were doing that to me that you were holding the slips up in front of me and embarrassing me like that and she said that I had better behave or she'd grab a waist cincher and pull me into the dressing room and make me try the slip on, and I said "be still my beating heart", and all of this was in the middle of the lingerie department in the middle of the day in front of all those customers and in front of her boss who heard the entire conversation and then, just then, a silence fell over the store, like when 100 separate conversations all come to a pause at the same instant, and she turned and faced me and her head was cocked and her eyes gleamed and her smile was wicked and right then and there I knew, I mean I really knew, she knew what was going on and that everything was for me and that it was all right by her if we play this little game.

At the check out counter I inquired about a specific pattern of panties, ones with a small floral pattern. This pattern happens to be one of my favorites and I noticed there were none in nylon, only in cotton, so I asked and she said she'd check into it and I should call her tomorrow and she'd let me know. Well, I called, all excited and my heart was beating hard and the phone answers and I ask for the lingerie department and my throat is dry and I get transferred and I listen to the canned muzak and now the phone is ringing and its the lingerie department and I ask for my sales lady and I'm told they're sorry, but she had to leave the state, very unexpectedly, and will not be returning, ever, and was there anything they could help me, and I realized, just then, that my little game had gotten her fired. I guess I'm lucky they didn't cause a hassle for me right there in the store.

As a footnote, I’ve spent the last three years touring various department stores looking for her and have never seen her again. Her name was Peggy and I would jump on her in an instant if I ever saw her again.

——-

Roommates ... (Also true)

Back in my college days I shared an apartment with Whitney. She and I were pretty good friends. We never fucked. We went back a real long time, but she never knew about my panty fetish.

We were familiar enough with each other that around the apartment in the summer we would just wear our underwear. Whit would always wear a full slip and panties. Based on what she wore that day to class (she taught) she would also wear pantyhose or thigh-highs. I would generally wear my BVD’s and a T-shirt. We’d always sit on the couch and watch TV. I’d sit in the corner and she’d lay on the couch with her head in my lap, sometimes wrapping her arms around my leg like you would a pillow, and I’d always sit there and just "pet" her, you know, like just stroke her down her side or hips, or sometimes just stroke her head. Whenever we would cuddle on the couch I would complement her on her outfit and while stroking her I would tell her much I liked it. I would, of course, always try to get it on with her, I mean shit, I’m a guy, right? I would be stroking her and gently pull her slip up and try to rub her pussy through her panties and she would always gently pull the slip back down and I would always say "Sorry" and she’d always reply "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try."

It was nice and comfortable living with Whitney. I liked it.

One night while we were watching TV, and I was doing my usual attempt to get some, I started to massage her stomach and started working my way up to her breast, but to my surprise, she didn’t stop me, so I kept going and while I was gently rubbing her left breast she just looked up at me with those eyes, questioning, and I looked very sincere at her and said "Friend to friend, no strings." She just closed her eyes and smiled ever so slightly. I then slid my hand down and began stroking her hip and leg, pushing the slip higher and higher until the crouch of her panties was showing, when she parted her legs and moaned. I continued to rub her hip bone and playing with the elastic band of her panties, sliding my hand in from the top, playing with the edge of her bush, pulling on her hair, and finally working my way down to her clit. I gently parted her lips, slid my finger in slightly to get some of her moisture on my finger, and used her juice to lubricate her hardening mound. Witney gently placed her hand on my hand over the panties and stroked my hand while I stroked her. I played with her like that for almost an hour, gently giving her orgasm after orgasm, her stroking my hand through the panties, watching the expressions change on her face as I found good spots and lost them and found them again. Finally she pulled my hand out, reached up for my neck, pulled me down and kissed me sweetly. "Thank you" was all she said.

I beat myself silly that night when I went to bed, cumming very hard and thick.

Time went by and neither of us mentioned that evening. And why should we? It was friend to friend, that’s what I said. Several weeks past and it was all but a favorite fantasy of mine to use late at night, in bed, alone.

Then one night when I was coming out of my room after school, having changed into my BVD’s, Whitney called me into her room. She was dressed in her usual after work attire of panties, full slip and hose, and she was holding another slip up to herself looking into her full mirror. She had a date the next night and was trying to decide what to wear, she told me. "This one?" She pulled the slip off and tried on the other one. "Or this one?" "Can’t decide. Let me see the other again." thinking, let me see you take off your slip again and show me that body of yours in those panties. "No, come here, hold it up for me so I can see them side by side." So I walked over, took the slip out of her hands and held it out next to her. "No, come closer. I can’t tell that way. Hold it closer to you so I can see its length better." I did, my heart starting to pound. "No, that’s not going to work. Put your arms through the straps and hold the front to your waist." I just looked at her, a little stunned. "Come here." She walked over to me, pulled my T-shirt off and held the slip right up against me. "Oh my" was all she said, then took the slip down, adjusted the straps, and pulled it over my head. I was beyond stunned, I was in shock. She kept walking around me, smoothing out the fabric, rubbing my butt through the fabric. I was getting hard and there was no way to hide it. "No, that’s not right. Your BVD’s give it a bad line." With that she just reached up under the slip and pulled my briefs off. My now hard dick extended from the front of the slip, making the classic tent. She walked over to her dresser, pulled out a pair of panties, and dangling them from the waistband with two fingers, extended them towards me. "Here, I know you want to." I just stood there and stared at her in disbelief. "Friend to friend. No strings. Please take them." I took the panties from her and pulled them up. She walked around me and smoothed the fabric again, rubbing my ass and gently brushing against my engorged cock. She then went over to her dresser and pulled out the whitest, sheerest stockings I had ever seen. I sat on the edge of the bed, coiled one up in my hand and gently putting it on my toes, pulled the first one up my leg slowly. "You’ve done this before I see." I didn’t comment.

She took my hand and lead me out to the living room, turned on the tube and sat in the corner of the couch. I took her normal position laying on the couch with my head in her lap. It was like a total role reversal. She stroked my head and my back and my side and hips, and would occasionally side down my legs and try to pull my slip up, and I would gently pull it back down, and she would say "Sorry" and I would say "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try." And she stroked my chest and worked her way down until she was stroking my organ through the slip and panties, and would be able to sense when I got close to cumming because she would move her hand and stroke me somewhere else, teasing me endlessly. Then she pulled my slip up and stroked me through only the panties, gently stroking my organ, long strokes, from the base of my balls all the way to the tip and back down, sometimes full handed and sometimes with just a single finger, slowing dragging her nail against the vein, teasing me beyond belief, until I finally exploded into the panties. I just looked at her and said "Thank you" and she smiled.

A short time after that Whitney moved out. Although we speak on the phone now and then, I never saw her again. We never mentioned that night, ever, to this day.

—— Hope you've enjoyed the stories well enough to share them. Panty Thief (PT to my friends)

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