Back in My Own Panties?..What a Joy!

Back home I looked at my foot-to-knee boot, resplendent with its many straps, and for the first time, took it off. Ohhhh the joy! 

But a bigger joy came in the form of a pair of light green panties from my drawer. They’re nothing special, and they have seen service over the years. But pulling my own panties on was like….oh, I don’t know….like settling into a familiar armchair. Wearing Dani’s French Panties was a thrill in and of itself of course, especially when I fantasised about them not being clean when she gave them to me, but these….these were old friends who have been through a lot with me.

Carefully, I drew both feet up close to my bum as I lay on my bed, then equally slowly let my knees flop apart. The familiar feeling of the crotch of my panties stretching tight against me felt delicious. Oh, the vast number of people who have seen the crotch of these panties hugging my rapidly moistening sex! The number of times I’ve squatted outdoors and let myself pee before masturbating to orgasm. The number of times I’ve rubbed off in these while leaning against a tree in the woods and cumming heavily and wetly into the crotch, then walking home smelling of girl cum…even making heads turn as I passed close to people. 

As if to celebrate this simple pleasure, I felt myself contract internally as a welt of liquid oozed out of me and into the material. Feeling between my legs, the dry soft cotton has become slick and slippery. Holding my exploratory finger to my nose reveals that pure, musky scent of an aroused girl. A girl whose vagina is lubricating, ready for anything, be it the simple touch of fingers, the insertion of a sex toy, or a vigorous fucking by a penis that will add its lubrication to my own, and crown it with a liberal serving of semen. 

I slip a hand under the waistband, so much more restrictive than Dani’s panties. Miss Brain gives me and instant, vivid flashback. I’m 13 again, and have just begun to explore my changing body. I’m just home from school and the walk back made me acutely aware of the slippery feeling between my legs. I remember the tightness of the waistband on my wrist as my fingers explored the slippery slit between my legs, and it’s sparse covering of hair. The sudden electric flash as my fingers grazed over my clit. Oh boy! Back for another touch…or two…or several. The unspoken desire to spread my legs, to be open. My eyes had closed and my other hand had found my emergent boob. 

Then that strange feeling almost like needing to pee urgently, but then not like that at all. I did stop though, for a few seconds anyway, but then my hand wormed it’s way back into the mess between my legs. Another touch which became a steady circulatory motion. Each pass over my clit felt amazing. But where did the words come from? And why? I was lying there, thoroughly enjoying the sensations within my body, but it was as if someone else controlled my mouth. I opened it and said “Fuck”. I recalled how the obscenity had coupled with the physical sensations to make me really excited. So I did it again, bolder this time. ‘Cunt….feel my cunt.” The pressure felt almost insurmountable. My total lack of sexual experience made my uttering seem naive in the extreme, but I didn’t care.

The speed of my fingers had increased substantially, but the slipperiness had helped. For a moment, I had a snapshot of how I would look if anyone had walked into my bedroom at that precise moment. One hand clutching a barely formed breast, my kilt flopped wide open, my knees apart and a hand in my panties, my school tie draped lazily over a shoulder and my white socks visible. “Fuck me up my cunt.” As if, at that age, I had even considered the possibility of being fucked anywhere else! Ah, if I knew then what I know now….

The orgasm tore me apart now, as it did then. Suddenly, I was 13 any more, I was transitioned from the then to the now, but it was seamless, a merging of two moments in time. I felt myself squirt into my panties as I had on that day 9 years ago. Is that all it was? Nine years? At the time, I thought I had peed myself.

I love that moment towards the end of an orgasm when you try to eke out the very last vestiges of it, to keep it going before it fades into nothingness. I like that moment because you are more in the now than the nebulous world of orgasm. I feel the wetness, the spurts, I am more aware of the warm, musky scent, and my body position becomes more real to me. Filaments of real world assert themselves. Dani talking about liking to watch me and Emily masturbate and wanting to do it, “…up close and personal” as she had said. Me, that day I picked up Dani’s used panties from where they had fallen from her armful of laundry on the stairs. The stains in the crotch, and how I’d inhaled her intimate scent for the first time. Oh, it was glorious. 

Eventually, reality asserted itself again, and my world became ordered. My leg had been in this unaccustomed position for too long and, I now realised, ached like a bitch. My panties were soaked, and yes, I do mean ‘soaked’. Not wet, not damp. I decided I’d keep them on at least for a few moments. My 13 year old self hadn’t quite disappeared back into history yet. She urged me towards the bathroom, as she had on that day. I sat on the toilet and again spread my knees. I had examined the wreckage by running my fingers over the wetness and bringing them to my face and first smelling, then tasting. Pure musk….pure girl-cum. 

The second orgasm was better than the first. 

The clean up after messy sex is always fun….tinged with a tiny feeling of guilt sometimes. I remembered sitting here letting the remains of Chris’s semen run out of me grinning ruefully as I remembered this was my sister’s boyfriend. His cock has been inside her, and now, by agreement, he had shot his capacious load inside me. I remembered how, slowly, gently, he had pushed it inside Emily. I recalled another time when he had screwed me anally as a demonstration to Alison on how to have painless anal sex. (The clues are imagine how much lube you think is enough, then treble it, and imagine how slow you think you should go, then quadruple it.) 

I washed my wrecked panties out in the sink before tossing them into the laundry. Dani will find these, still soaking wet, tomorrow. She will guess something happened that made me rinse them out, but I doubt she will guess the finer details. 

Another dry pair fitting snuggly around my still leaking vulva, and one removable orthopaedic boot refitted, and I felt ready to face the afternoon, and the lovely Dani. 

On the way downstairs, I was suddenly filled with a desire to simply hug her…to feel her body pressed up to mine. Oh make no mistake, it was 100% sexual, but I make no apologies for that. I really wanted to feel her boobs, the gentle swell of her tummy, and her mound against me….

…and fortunately, girls don’t need an excuse to huh one another.