It’s the feel, I think, more than the appearance. Yes I’m interested in how they look, but I am more interested in the touch. Sure, the cut, the style, how much is covered and how much is revealed are important, but nowhere near as much as the sensations I receive. I get so aroused by simply holding the garment in my hands that sometimes it’s nearly impossible for me to put it down. The feel of the material on my fingertips does so much to me that often I have to masturbate to relieve the sexual tension sufficiently for me to get dressed.
Yes sexy lingerie is my thing, my interest and my fetish. I am a silk and lace addict, a lingerie junky, a knicker chick.
I spend hours in lingerie, or as I have noted they’re called in the US intimate apparel departments. I buy loads, far more than I could ever wear to go out, but then I don’t need to go out for I have my own fashion shows. A marvellous evening for me is a bottle of dry white wine, a full length mirror in front and behind me and a pile of new undies to try on. That can make me masturbate several times in that evening.
I have a huge collection. Whilst I do have some pastel and dark coloured stuff, most is black or white, the basic colours, the colours that lingerie should be I think. I adore both. I can handle the occasional pale yellow, oyster or pink, now and then dark blue and perhaps burgundy, but not browns and greens, light blue, orange or red. Colour is important. I have a fairly pale skin, but as I have several sun holidays a year I usually have a tan and then the freckles on my chest, shoulders, back and boobs are very obvious. Black and white sets them and my tan off wonderfully.
Firstly bras. They are not as significant a fetish to me as panties, which are the pinnacle of a knicker chick’s fascination.
I don’t have big boobs and frankly I could easily dispense with wearing a bra, but they are sexy. I like them to be see-through, white or black of course and made of a thin material similar to the nylon of stockings. The feel as I ease my boobs into the cups of such a bra is wonderful. The sensation as the material moulds itself to each mound excites me and the pressure on each boob as I do the clip up is delightful.
I tend to choose bras that dissect each breast quite acutely and, just about, cover each of my coral pink, not very large areola. I also like, but find uncomfortable, front fastening bras, although to stand in front of a lover and unclip the bra between my tits is a major turn on.
Dressing, I will sometimes put my bra on first. Naked apart from the black or white, see through bra that gives a modicum of support, but hides nothing I look at myself in the mirror. Naturally my nipples will have hardened and equally naturally they will make indentations in the gossamer thin cups. They will look good, appealing, attractive and inviting so that generally I’ll touch them, maybe even pinch them, that is such a fabulous feeling.
To help you paint a picture I guess I should describe myself.
I’m now coming up for twenty and I am uni half way through my second year at uni where I am studying English and Psychology? I am often told I look young for my age and a couple of times I have been called a Lolita! I’m five feet seven inches tall and a little bit and I’m a natural brunette. I am told I’m pretty. I have a neat figure that’s curvy in the right places, but I am a little bit short in the tits area being essentially an A cup, but I kid myself I am a B. Whilst tits may a little lacking I make up for with my ass, which I am told is my best asset. I weigh around one hundred and twenty two pounds, about eight and a half stone in UK currency.
“I think we’ll keep these on,” called Oliver Hopkins my English lecturer at university, said, referring to the white, French knickers I was wearing specially for him. Well for me as well of course as even at uni I was becoming a knicker chick.
We’d been to the university ball, not together of course, that was frowned upon. But lecturers and students could dance together and we had managed just enough to get us through the evening until I could meet him at his flat and he could fuck me. We’d been doing that for a couple of months now, fucking that is, not dancing, mainly during the afternoons.
The ball finished at one and he opened the door of his flat to me at twenty past. I was wearing a high fronted, low backed, yellow dress and no bra. He was naked. We were both slightly and pleasantly drunk. We went straight to the bedroom with him removing my dress by pulling it up and over my head on the way. I was only wearing the French knickers under the dress, no bra or tights or stockings. During the evening, I had enjoyed his body against mine and the way that his eyes had been drawn to my wobbling, bare tits under the thin material of the dress.
Standing by the bed we kissed. He caressed me. He gripped the cheeks of my bum through the silk of my knickers.
“Oh that feels lovely,” he whispered into my ear as he pressed his full konya escort erection against my silk covered tummy. I didn’t know whether he meant on his hands or cock, but I didn’t ask or care come to that for it felt lovely to me too.
He laid me on his bed, the one he shares with his bitch of a wife who lived in London, but came down most weekends. He sucked my nipples and I stroked his cock. We were getting ready to fuck. We kissed hard, deep and long as we stroked and rubbed each other.
“Come on, ” I groaned as the need for satisfying the strong want became almost unbearable.
“What baby, what do you want?” He asked his hand inside my knickers at the back his finger fiddling inside the crease of my bum.
Oliver had introduced me to anal sex. Until him I had mainly been with boys, well they seemed like boys, not like him who was very much a man. A forty two year old married man, an experienced man, a man who had cheated on his wife since they were married, yes a man who was very sexually experienced.
His was the first finger that had penetrated my tight little bumhole. His was the first tongue that had licked me there and the first that had pushed the tip slightly inside me. And his was the first cock that had slid inside me. Yes he was the first man to fuck me up my arse.
“I need it, I want you,” I replied as he pressed his finger right against the puckered, brownish skin surrounding my anal opening.
“No, no that, not now.”
“Fuck me, I need to be fucked.”
“You dirty little bitch” he whispered as he slid down a little so that the tip of his cock pressed against the gusset of my white, French knickers.
I got hold of the waist band and went to take them off.
“No,” he said a little sharply grabbing my wrist. “I’m going to fuck you with your knickers on.”
I felt him fiddling with the leg holes of the baggy silk knickers.
“What are you doing?”
“This,” he replied sliding his cock inside my knickers so that it pressed into my stomach and the silk ran over the top of his cock. “Fuck that feels marvellous,” he groaned.”
“It does,” I said smiling. “The silk feels fantastic with or without a cock in it.”
He laughed and squirmed himself in the silk before again sliding downward, this time with the gusset of the panties now holding his balls. The head of his cock pressed against my lips. I opened my legs and raised my knees. He surged into me making me grunt, his stomach now pressed against mine with just the slither of silk between us. And then, with me still wearing my white, silk French knickers he fucked me.
I must have nearly a hundred pairs of panties. Again most are black or white, but some are other colours although they don’t get worn that often, usually only when I have my personal model shows with just me, the mirrors and my underwear.
I have every style. Bikini, boy shorts, thongs, high-waisted, French, boxers, Y-fronts and cycling shorts. I have silk, satin, cotton, lace, rubber, PVC and net.
I adore lacy, silk panties and thongs, but it is a close run race with lacy shorts. Probably, though, thongs are currently what I wear most with tight jeans, trousers, skirts or, wonderfully yoga pants for they do not create VPLs, which today’s fashion has declared unacceptable. I’m happy with that for I have, or so I’m told, a pretty good bum. It’s nicely rounded, but tight and pert and wobbles and wiggles suggestively under skirts and thin trousers.
I love detail on my panties. Edgings of lace, scalloped legs on French knickers, a combination of materials; satin, cotton and silk and lace and patches of see through net, usually over the pubic area. I can get excited at the briefness of a thong or the fullness of a pair of high-waisted panties, particularly when made from silk or satin, which means that more of my skin is stimulated by the lustrous material.
Thongs arouse me; just looking at them and feeling them, but particularly when wearing them I can be like a bitch on heat. The narrow gusset means that sometimes it slips between my lips leaving them exposed with the material stretched across my clit so that as I move I stimulate myself. The small patch at the front and the slithers of silk and elastic rearing up my tummy, round my waist with both sides meeting at the back to then plunge down to vanish between the orbs of my bum all sexually intrigue me. Just thinking of that gets me going and looking over my shoulder into a mirror makes me need to masturbate.
It was a few weeks later at the start of the summer vac in early July. I was at home and Oliver’s bitch of a wife was away on some business trip or the other. She has a high powered job in the Civil Service liaising with the EU, which means she made frequent trips to Brussels and Strasbourg. That was neat for it meant that he could also fuck me in their marital bed.
We’d been to a restaurant in Covent Garden and had walked to their small townhouse in Bloomsbury. konyaaltı escort We kissed in the hallway and went to the bedroom our arms round each other. We stood beside the bed kissing as we started undressing each other. He was naked before me, I like that feeling. I like being in my underwear or, preferably fully dressed with a naked lover, it adds something, it makes me feel good. I don’t know why, but it does.
He was wonderfully erect, but at just over forty men still do get rock hard, can keep like that for ages and can recover quickly. After that as they move further and further into their forties and then their fifties, regrettably that all changes. I have found that over the past few years as I have gone with a small succession of older men.
“Get on the bed” I said rather sternly.
With him I had recently found that I have a slightly dominating manner in which occasionally I took control and led the way with our lovemaking; he seemed to like that. We’d discussed it a couple of times after we’d had sex.
“Yes I do have a slightly submissive manner,” he explained going on to tell me that the bitch was quite dominating and liked to order him around when they had sex. I’d met her a few times when she came to university events and could see what he meant.
“No why does that not surprise me?” I smiled pulling my top up and over my head.
“Mmmm, nice bra” he purred.
“What’s that?” He asked as I reached behind me and undid the clasp on the thin, white strap.
“You haven’t heard of it?” I asked very surprised as I peeled the diaphanous cups away from each of my boobs.
“It’s Agent Provocateur, a posh knicker and bra shop” I told him throwing the flimsy, incredibly expensive garment at him. He caught it and draped it over his thighs. “What’s she do?” I asked as I undid the zip on my jeans.
“When we have sex?”
“Just takes the lead, gets on top most of the time.”
“How often do you fuck her?” I asked pushing the tight jeans down my legs.
“Not often now,” he said, probably lying.
“What since you’ve had me?” I said laughing as I stepped out of my jeans.
Our relationship was developing nicely. We were sort of in love, but we were both aware that there was no future. He was married with two teenage children and he was over twenty years older than me. I had for some time preferred older men and had been with several including one of my father’s friends when I was eighteen. I had no aspirations of anything with him than an affair; as plain and simple as that. So the fact that he was still sleeping with the bitch worried me not one bit, after all if I wanted to I was free to fuck who I chose. But I didn’t. I don’t actually have the highest sex drive. I don’t have the nagging need for sex on a frequent basis. I can easily go weeks without a fuck, but then I have my undies fetish instead don’t I?
“Yeah something like that,” he replied running my bra across his hard on. That gave me an idea.
I moved and stood right against the bed, just a foot or so away from him.
“Take my panties off,” I ordered.
I was wearing a matching pair of white, AP panties. Nothing really special other than they were very tight and made from silk and they cost forty quid. He reached out and rolled them down to my knees. Leaning forward he kissed my mound, his tongue slipping down a bit and finding my clit making my body jerk.
“Mmm nice, but later,” I said moving away. Lay back and close your eyes” I told him slipping the panties off.
I lay beside him and ran the silk panties across his chest.
“Oh yes,” he groaned grabbing hold of the silk.
“Nice?” I asked.
“Mmmm wonderful,” he groaned as I pinched one of his nipples through the silk. I slid them up his chest and ran them over his face as he reached out and squeezed my boob.
“Can you smell me?” I asked him pressing the damp gusset against his nose and lips. He sucked it slightly inside his mouth as he muttered his reply.
“Yes Jenny I can smell your cunt.”
“I love it, you know that,” he went on as I slowly ran the lustrous material down his chest, past his waist and onto his stomach. I laid them on his erection and whispered. “Ok?”
“Oh fuck yes,” he groaned.
I wrapped my panties round his cock and balls and rubbed him through the silk.
“It’s fucking marvellous,” he croaked as I increased the speed of my rubbing. “Oh Jenny, Jenny” he went on as I quite firmly bit his nipple before kissing him and shoving my tongue into his mouth.
“What?” I asked knowing the answer before he spoke. I could feel his body tightening and his cock throbbing through the silk of my panties.
“You’ll make me cum unless you stop.”
It was unusual for him to be ready to cum so quickly, but then what we were doing was rather unusual too.
“Do you want to?”
“Is it ok?”
“Yes. Do you want to cum in my konyaaltı eve gelen escort panties?”
“Cum in Jen’s knickers then.”
Back at the house I shared with four other girls an hour or so later, I took the stained, sticky knickers from my bag. ‘What a fucking waste of money’ I thought when I realised they couldn’t be saved.
I had finished school and was waiting to go to university, I was eighteen.
I had been invited to a posh wedding and had bought a long, ankle length, dark blue dress. It was low cut at both the front and back meaning that I couldn’t wear a bra, which didn’t bother me at all. It was very tight everywhere, particularly around my hips and bum. I was thinking that I might not bother with panties and go commando, that would for sure do away with any VPL, I smiled trying the dress on with nothing underneath.
The woman who had served me in Harvey Nichs had suggested I buy some stockings, something I had never worn.
“They’re very fashionable” she told me adding. “They’ll drive your boyfriend wild.”
We both laughed. “I don’t have one of those.”
“Really, a good looker like you?”
“No they’re more hassle than they’re worth.”
She looked me direct in the eye and said softly. “Yes I agree.”
The way she looked at me made my heart pound. She was coming onto me I was sure.
I bought two pairs.
It was two days before the wedding and I was having a dress rehearsal; even then I used to have my little fashion parades although I hadn’t acknowledged my underwear fetish. I thought I just enjoyed looking at myself in a mirror and masturbating, not collecting, playing with and wearing erotic underwear.
I was naked in my bedroom; the house was empty. I got the two packets holding the pairs of holdup stockings. There was a sudden jerk inside my chest, my heart pounded a little and I felt a tingle in my boobs as I started undoing the cellophane envelopes; even the packaging was sexy. I undid the packet holding the seemed, black stockings that Pippa the sales lady had said were very sexy. I took them out and ran the sheer nylon through my fingers. Jesus that felt good. I rubbed the material between my thumbs and forefingers as my pulses started to race. Glancing down I saw my nipples had hardened and I felt that warmth spreading through my body. I don’t know what made me do it, but I softly rubbed the nylon across both of my breasts and nipples. The sensation was amazing and made me grunt, quite loudly. I looked in the mirror and saw the black of the lacy topped stockings contrasting so vividly with the whiteness of my body and breasts. I was panting. I got the other stocking and ran that across my thighs. I rubbed both on my body as, after glancing in the mirror again I fell backwards onto my bed. I squeezed my breasts through one stocking and then opening my legs I rubbed the other up and down my thighs going closer and closer to my pussy that felt so hot and I knew would be so wet.
I slid my hand in the stocking pulling it up to my elbow.
Then inevitably, for it seemed the perfect thing to do, I touched my pussy lips then my clit. The effect was like an electric shock. Pushing the nylon inside me and rubbing my clit and tits I quickly climaxed. I also ruined an expensive pair of stockings, but that was a small price to pay to feed my fetish.
I was rubbing my satin panties over Oliver’s cock and balls. Using them had become part of our sexual repertoire over the six months or so we had been having sex; it added interest and we both enjoyed the material being brushed across our bodies.
During the long holidays he moved back to London and with the bitch at work or on business trips we could enjoy each other, often with me staying overnight at their house and being fucked numerous times in their bed.
“Shall I put them on?” I asked.
“I’ve only just taken them off,” he replied.
I waited a moment as I slowly masturbated his cock with the satin of my panties. I pondered on whether I should say what I felt. Was it going too far, I wondered? I’m usually pretty ballsy and believe generally in saying what I think.
“I meant on you, shall I put my panties on you.”
With a shudder, he groaned. “Oh god Jen?” He sounded upset.
“What is it?”
“Would you like them on you?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“What’s the matter then?”
“I feel embarrassed.”
Later he told me that when he was younger he had often worn his wife’s panties without her knowledge.
I slid them over his feet and up his legs. They were quite full, but not enough to cover all of his balls and cock. One of his balls hung out from the leg hole and the bulbous end of his cock poked out of the waistband. I thought he looked hugely sexy.
“Nice?” I asked.
“It’s marvellous,” he groaned rubbing his erection through the panties. “You ok with this?”
“I think it’s wonderful,” I whispered as I licked the length of his cock through the satin. “Do you remember the first time we used my panties?” I asked him.
“Yes I fucked you as you were wearing them, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did” I replied sucking his satin panty covered ball into my mouth before adding. “Well now you can fuck me as you wear them can’t you?”