In order to understand the full context of this story, it would probably be helpful to start at the beginning, if you have not already done so. I appreciate the feedback that I have received so far, and welcome any additional comments!
***
For the uninitiated, it may come as a surprise to learn that cyclists typically do not wear underwear beneath their bike shorts. In fact, in order to get the full cushioning benefit of the chamois that is sewn into the shorts, wearing anything else is discouraged. You can imagine, therefore, that the panties that I had on under my shorts were somewhat distracting. Not in a bad way, in fact, maybe in a slightly naughty way, a constant reminder of the completely unexpected turn of events of the day!
I let myself into my nephew's home and searched the refrigerator, making a plan for dinner as well as a shopping list which would get me through the next few days of my visit. It was obvious that my tastes were somewhat less sophisticated than his, and I certainly did not want to take advantage of his generous offer to stay on after his departure.
As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped to a point where it was noticeably cooler in the house. Rather than turn the heat up, I opted to spend the evening in the den where I was able to light a fire in the wood stove. Within half an hour, the stove was hot, and the room was toasty, almost too hot. It was a good time to take a shower, given the fact that I would be able to return to this very warm spot afterward. I put another log in the stove and then shut the door before making my way to the bathroom.
There were fresh towels and all of the toiletries that one could imagine in the guest bathroom. After adjusting the temperature of the water and turning on the spray, I stepped back and peeled my clothes off, pausing briefly in only the panties. I stepped in front of the mirror to catch a glimpse of them, noting how my cock was nestled in the soft, feminine lace. And then I watched as I slowly slid the waist band over my hips. That was all it took for my cock to be stimulated. It began to grow and was soon standing straight and hard, tipped up slightly at an angle, ready for whatever pleasure might come its way.
The shower was a luxury, an endless supply of hot water caressing my body. The fragrance of soap that I had never heard of, and probably would never be able to purchase for myself, and the soft sensation of a new washcloth against my skin all added up to a feeling of almost total contentment. The shower addressed the needs of my sore muscles, and it washed away the sweat and dust from the ride home. It helped to center my thoughts regarding the sexual exploration in which I had engaged earlier in the day, leaving me with a feeling of acceptance and anticipation for what might occur the next day. But, it did little to address the needs of my still hard cock. I washed it with soapy hands, gently stroking it, fondling my balls with my slippery hands and even touching my rosebud with a soapy finger, recalling the pleasure of feeling my friend's finger penetrating me there. But then I stopped, turned off the water and picked up a towel to dry my body, speaking out loud and telling my cock to be patient.
My intention was to fully comply with my friend's request to wear the panties until I saw him later the next day. They were not as fresh as my just showered body, but I stooped over and picked them up from the floor, pausing to bring them to my face, briefly wanting them to be his, to be reminded of his fragrance, but, of course, I smelled my own scent, discovering that it was delightful in its own way. I slid the panties on and picked up my dirty clothes as well as a fresh towel.
I dropped the dirty clothes off in my room and grabbed some flannel pants and a t shirt, but they were for later. As long as I had the house to myself, and a cozy fire in the den, I had decided that it would be appropriate to wear just my panties, at least until the fire died down. Entering the den, I spread the fresh towel on the chair in front of the wood stove, and sat down. As I did so, I noticed that my cock had lost some , thought not nearly all, of its rigidity. Past experience told me that it would only take only a slight touch and perhaps a few thoughts of the days activities to help return it to a state of being ready for action.
I dropped my hand to caress it through my panties, cupping my balls and then running my palm lightly up the bottom of my shaft. Unlike so many movies in which guys seem to rely on vigorous and prolonged stroking, I learned early on that pressure against the bottom of my cock, down close to my balls, often led to much more explosive orgasms. Even with my wife, the act of just gently humping her thigh, often times point me beyond the point of no return, and, to her slight dismay, I would end up pumping my cum on her belly.