I got a lovely e-mail yesterday (13 December 2018), it started:
“Hey Panty Pal! As promised, here’s my account of my ‘panty morning’ today.”
Mark – known on Twitter as @aguyinpanties – and I became friends because I admire men in women’s underwear. I noticed him modelling a pair of black lace panties which were almost exactly the same as some I have! We compared pictures and became friends.
Mark shared his panty-wearing experiences with me so that I could write a piece of fiction for #Kinkoftheweek and he’s since shared his erotic fiction on my blog:
* A voyeuristic story
* Christmas-themed fantasy
I hope you’ll enjoy this non-fiction piece which Mark is kindly allowing me to share:
My name is Mark, I’m in my mid-thirties and for the last couple of years I’ve occasionally worn knickers when I’m alone. At first I borrowed my wife’s, then I began buying my own. It was something I’d been curious about for a while but had never wanted to cross the threshold and take it from fantasy to reality. When I finally did, it was a revelation and I’ve been indulging myself ever since.
Yesterday my manager said that I could work from home today, so my first thought was “free house, panty morning!” And that’s exactly what I did.
Mrs Guy in Panties would be out until 1 pm, so I planned, for the first time, to wear knickers for an entire morning. I live tweeted my experiences via @aguyinpanties but also kept a diarised record which you can read here. It’s honest and raw and I hope you enjoy it.
7.15am – the front door clicks shut and I’m alone for the next 6 hours. I choose three pairs of knickers – one black, white and lacy, a purple-y pair with little flowers and lace detail at the front, or dainty green French knickers. I hand over the responsibility of choice to my Twitter followers and wait.
8.00 am – Their vote is unanimous – green. It’s Christmas after all.
I pull on the panties and feel that familiar cocktail of excitement, naughtiness, arousal and a touch of shame. The fabric nestles between my bum cheeks and the mild chafing feels great. With no elastic at the front, I have to arrange myself to stay in them.
I look at myself in the mirror and consider the contrast – masculine vs feminine. A bulge in knickers that shouldn’t be there. The hairy trail from my belly button, disappearing under the bow-fronted waistband. I pull some joggers over them and head downstairs to begin my day.
8.15 am – Before starting work I fold the washing and take it upstairs and as I climb each step the fabric caresses my bum, little movements that feel lovely, but just on the right side of arousal so I’m not tempted to touch myself. Perhaps I will later, but it’s much too early for that.
8.30 am – I empty the dishwasher. Moving to and from the cupboards as I put things away causes more movement and I can’t work out whether I’ve fallen out of these things. I peer down the waistband of my joggers. Negative. All still in place.
9.10 am – I’m Skyping my boss while wearing size 14 green French knickers under my clothes. This is bizarre in a wonderful way. I feel alive!
9.30 am – Toilet break. Even though it’s a number one, I sit on the toilet, girly style. I gaze down at the lacy knickers inside my men’s joggers and feel compelled to tweet a photo. Has this gone too far?
When I pull the knickers up, I hoist them high onto my hips, accentuating the bulge at the front and drawing the fabric tight between my buttocks. It’s the most aroused I’ve felt all morning as the lace tickles my anus when I bend down to pull up my joggers. I re-adjust the knickers lower down and get back to work.
10.10 am – What if Mrs Guy in Panties comes home early? OK, she won’t KNOW I’m wearing knickers, but I know I’d panic and she’d see it in my face. I put a contingency plan in place for this eventuality before returning to work.
11.00 am – I pull my joggers down and snap myself leaning back against the wall. My bulge is perfect, pulling the knickers down at the front and creating a tantalising outline of my cock while exposing the top of my pubes over the waistband. I feel a heady mix of masculinity and femininity and begin to swell. Joggers up and back to work.
11.30 am – At my desk, I slip a hand into my joggers and cup myself over the knickers. This feels gorgeous through the silky panel at the front, and strangely not in an overtly sexual way. It’s a nice sensation. Comfortable. I stand and feel the rough pattern of lace around my bum through the cotton of my joggers. I feel good.
12.00 pm – ‘Lunchtime’. I head upstairs.
At 7.00 am I wasn’t sure how this experience would end but I am now. I strip down to the knickers and lay back on the bed. I caress myself through the material and feel tingles shoot down my legs and up into my stomach. Soon I’m hard and the knickers no longer contain me, my erection poking through a leg hole.
I pull the knickers off and drag them slowly over my balls and cock, their delicate lace grazing my most sensitive parts exquisitely. I continue teasing myself with the lightest strokes down my shaft until desire takes over and I take myself in my hand. Slow, rhythmic strokes bring me to the edge almost immediately before a huge climax bolts through my penis. I come hard and long, massaging my glans through the aftershocks to wring out every last drop of pleasure.
The knickers return to their hiding place ready to be washed (when I have more time) and I’m back in a pair of boxers and back to reality.