Only In Panties

"I'll be there in a minute" Sandra shouted.

I was standing in our bathroom, holding a pair of panties. They weren't my wife's, and they wouldn't have fitted her if she'd tried them on.

"Sandra?" came from downstairs again.

"Coming," she yelled back.

"Well," she said: "Aren't you going to try them on?"

For a long, long minute nothing happened. Then I started to take off my jeans. Sandra picked up the underwear. "Here, put on these" - she read the label - "Baroque-style knickers, why don't you?"

The panties were as elaborate as their name suggested: wide, pink lace across the front, and an expanse of pink satin at the back.

Sandra pulled them up for me. "Is that right?" she asked, adjusting the lace. Then she slipped a hand inside the knickers and felt for my penis: "Is this right too?" she went on. I watched my panties bulge at the front while she started to wank me . . .

She searched for my balls in the satin. "What happens if I make you come in them?" she asked me, massaging me inside the women's underwear. "Well, then?" she insisted - "Quickly, tell me what happens - I've got to get back to my girlfriends downstairs."

"I - I - I . . ." I gasped. My cock had grown as big as a pole: I leant back, shaking, against the vanity unit. "It . . . It . . . it doesn't matter about the knickers, let me come inside them" I begged, pulling my wife's breasts out of her dress. A cheap purple bra was unsuccessfully trying to hold her long tits steady while she tugged me in my women's underwear.

"Keep quiet then!" she sniggered, pulling harder. Then - "Coming!" she shouted to her friends downstairs, just as a sea of wet come flooded out of the end of my cock and into the pink lace.

My knickers were soaked . . .

We both stopped, then Sandra leant forwards and inspected the Baroque underwear. "Look how wet you've made them," she eventually said, pulling the waistband towards her. Then she let it snap back, placed a hand on my buttocks, opened the bathroom door and called out: "Hey, you guys, come up to the bathroom! I've got something to show you!" And with that, she shoved me into the corridor.

Snap! The bathroom door snicked locked just behind me. I stood on the empty landing, just in women's panties, wet at the front from where I had obviously just come into them . . .

"Are you up there?" came voices, walking up the stairs. There was no other escape: I ran down the corridor, yanked open the balcony door and dived outside.

"Where's Vic gone?" I heard Sandra say as she emerged from the bathroom. "Isn't he downstairs with you . .?" The voices disappeared into a bedroom, then emerged again and came closer: "Let's check the balcony" I heard someone say.

There was no time to lose. I tossed the pink underwear over the edge and grabbed some clean clothes from the washing frame. There was only a pair of my wife's red, lace-edged panty-shorts for underwear but I did find a pair of my own jeans and one of my own t-shirts. I hurriedly put them all on, just before Sandra and her girlfriends opened the balcony door.

"There you are!" they all said at once: "What are you doing out here? Come inside!"

"What are those?" one of Sandra's friends asked as we went back inside, pointing to the pink satin underwear on the veranda below. "Oh just some knickers, I think" she replied casually. "Vic'll pick those up later."

But lunch came first . . . And during the meal, Sandra didn't give me a minute to myself. During a moment in the kitchen, Sandra had pulled down my zip, felt inside and recognised the flowered-lace of her clean briefs and waggled her finger at me in disapproval, but when I tried to slip away and change, she caught me and steered me straight back to the dining room. "Surely you're not bored with us already?" she chided.

The moment her friends had left, Sandra opened my trousers, checked out the underwear again, then pulled my cock out of the side of the red shorts. "But I've only just come!" I tried to remind her.

"I don't care," Sandra sniggered: "You owe me one!"

She placed her fingertips on my penis and began to knead the foreskin. Her lace panty-shorts clung to my buttocks and my penis started to go hard again.

Sandra studied my cock, jutting out of the side of her knickers. Then she raised the hem of her dress and flashed her own underwear - a wide, purple nylon thong which matched her bra.

She pulled her dress off: "Let's do it on the sofa" she whispered. She turned around, letting her long boobs swing in her bra underneath her, then pulled her cheap g-string out from between her firm cheeks. "I to keep want my panties on too," she told me: "Now stick your knickered-cock inside me . . ."

She grabbed my penis, steadied herself, the thrust backwards: my steaming cock slipped inside her equally hot cunt . . .

"Your panties are fucking my panties" Sandra giggled, looking at our underwear. She clutched the women's briefs around my legs and tugged softly, making me thrust my penis back and forth inside her. I looked down and saw the lace, flowered edge of her panty shorts flap around my cock while I fucked her. Sandra's purple g-string was stretched across her backside . . . "Yes, right there!" she was saying - "Now stay hard inside, stay in my panties while I - while I - while I. . ." She was fingering her clit, then pulling her panties, then pulling my panties, then she came groaningly, pulling on me, squeezing my balls in her knickers, and forcing a second, splashing load of come out of the end of my cock again. I splashed a second lake inside my wife, which dripped onto her underwear, my underwear, then off our coloured panties and onto the sofa.

A long, long pause swept over us, then we slowly pulled apart.

We looked at each other as if we'd just fucked for the first time.

Sandra rolled back on the sofa, raised her legs and slowly took off her g-string. "You know," she eventually said: "You know - I think I like it in panties . . ."

She leant forward and softly rolled my cock and balls in her hand, before placing them back inside her underwear. She adjusted the red, lace shorts around me. "I think I'll keep you in briefs," she laughed: "Women's briefs, that is. Knickers and panties only for you from now."

She handed me my jeans and made sure I put them on over her underwear. "Yes," she sighed, squeezing the come off her own wet underwear: "I think we'll only be fucking in panties from now . . ." and kissed me.