Your erotic stories

"Look at yourself," Randi quietly ordered in my ear. She stood behind me. Her hands caressed from the tops of my shoulders, down the lengths of my arms, and up again. Then her fingertips flowed lightly down my back. Chills covered my body at her touch and at my excitement. I felt my cock twitch as I looked.

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I'm a relatively normal 25 year old guy, and the only thing "abnormal" about me is I have a panty fetish. It started when I was a teenager by playing with my mom's and sister's panties, but once I went off to college, I didn't hesitate to walk into a store and buy my own lingerie. Dresses and makeup were never my style, I didn't want to be a girl, I just wanted the silky feel of nylon panties on my cock.

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For as long as I can remember, I've always had a thing for panties. Not wearing them. Seeing them, smelling them, touching them. And, of course, coming on them. I'm almost always turned on when I see a girl's panties. With the current trend of low-slung jeans and pants, my eyes are always on the lookout for a girl whose panties or thong is in view.

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Sunday morning came sooner than I hoped it would but nonetheless it was here. It was around 8 am and I had ordered breakfast in bed to be delivered at 9:30. I rolled over and saw Steve still sleeping soundly facing away from me. He was still in his new sheer black babydoll and tanga panties that I had given him last night as a gift for a wonderful orgasm.

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Another month passed since Steve got his promotion and we had any time away from the kids. That previous night alone was another memorable one in which I bought him a nice black pair of thigh highs and a black lacy garter belt that matched his black satin bikini panties. He was so aroused he came in his panties as I rubbed his crotch on the drive home from dinner.

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I met Gord in a local chat room frequented by swingers and people that leaned towards the alternative lifestyles. Neither my husband Rick or I had partaken of any extramarital sex but it sounded so spicy that I was constantly returning and getting into conversations with the fifty-nine year old gentleman who lived a couple of miles from us.

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It began with a pair of panties, left in the wash by my wife, belonging to my niece, and the unmistakable fragrance of sweet, tender young pussy and fruits forbidden. She had "blossomed" that summer, her breasts growing full and round like honeydew melons, her cheeks rose petal pink, her lips strawberry red, her cute navel peaking out from beneath her half shirts like the inner part of a morning glory, her ass...

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I was just entering second year of college and decided to rent a room instead of going back to residence. It was so noisy there and the food sucked. So I thought finding a room would be better. Checking the Student Housing Office on campus I found a couple of places that seemed interesting. After checking them out, I decided to take the room at Mrs. Johnson's house. Mrs. Johnson, or Mary as she wanted me to call her, was about 60. She had a full time job but needed the extra cash from my rent to make ends meet.

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Mike had been happily married to Marie for about 10 years. He was very much in love with her, and had always been faithful. In fact, only 2 things were weaknesses for him in any fashion at all: panties, and Marie's younger sister Annie. Mike had developed a fetish for panties as a teen, when he masturbated for the very first time with a satin pair that was taken from a friend's sister.

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