Panty Lines

With my new job I had to move away from all my family and friends, almost a thousand miles away. It was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up, though it was taking me out of my comfort zone. I'm a bit of an introvert. I'm good if I know you or comfortable with you, but strangers I clammed up. Oddly enough, I'm in public relations.

I moved into a nice one bedroom at an apartment complex that had just about every I needed. It had a gym, laundry, grocery and restaurants close by. The building was full of single young professionals like myself, so you would think it would have been easy to make friends. It wasn't.

We were all busy with our own lives and work to actually socialize with one another. I was no exception. Having starting my job in the middle of major project, I worked long hours and rarely saw anyone in the hallways. After two weeks I was in desperate need to do laundry and burn off some stress.

I had a few fuck buddies back home, but I hadn't had a chance to find someone to scratch that itch here. Without something clean to wear, I wasn't about to. So Friday, after work, I grabbed a load of clothes and headed to the laundry. There was already one machine going, so I wasn't the only one needing to do laundry.

I started one machine with one load, headed back to get the next and so forth till I had four machines going. I was playing some stupid game on my phone when the owner of the one machine I hadn't taken over came to get his clothes. I tried not to stare but it was near impossible not to.

He was gorgeous with short dirty blond hair, dark five o'clock shadow and huge. I mean bodybuilder huge. He had to top at least six foot and his arms were as thick as me, not that I was all that thick for skinny white boy, but you get the idea. When he bent over to pull his cloths out the machine, I was certain his pants were going to rip.

That's when I noticed the funny underwear line. They definitely weren't boxers or trunks, it was too small. The line didn't match up with someone wearing a jock or briefs. He was definitely wearing something, I just couldn't figure out what it was. Then I saw some women's underwear in his clothes that he quickly covered.

"His girl must have put some of her things in with his." I shrugged mentally returning to my game before I was caught. He ignored me, putting the clothes in one of the dryers before leaving me as his unintentional watchdog. One by one, I transferred my clothes from the washers to the dryers, my loads surrounding his single load.

I watched our clothes tumble about, noticing he had a lot of women's underwear mixed in his laundry. A thought crossed my mind, but when he barged in twenty minutes later, testosterone dripping off him, I brushed the thought aside. I did find myself staring at those casaba melons he had and their weird underwear line.

When he left, he gave me some butch nod as if just now noticing little me was here before he headed out. It didn't surprise me that he probably didn't see me till then. When you're a skinny five foot five guy most people missed you, add the glasses and quiet demeanor in public, I was virtually invisible to people.

After spending Friday night washing, drying and folding laundry, I decided Saturday I would check out the complex's gym. They had shown it to me when I first looked at the place, and when I moved it, and it was pretty nice. It had all the basic equipment, but most importantly it had a treadmill.

According to the building manager it was rarely used by the tenants because they preferred to spend money to be seen at the fancy gym down the street, which was fine by me. So, I was alone that Saturday morning. At first. I plugged my headphones in, stretched and just started running. Then the laundry hunk came in.

I saw in the mirror that he was a bit surprised to see me there. I gave a curtsy nod and kept running. He replied in same, his face showing the contemplation of whether to stay or go before he finally deciding to stay. If he figured out I was Gay, he must have also figured out there was no way in the world I'd ever be a threat to him given our size difference.

He wore a douche bag string tank and short shorts that showed off his massive legs. I tried not to focus on him, but he was directly behind me. My eyes watched as he did his first squat, doing triple my weight. I admired his firm taut buttocks, moving up to see the top of his underwear. I almost fell off the treadmill. He was wearing a pink thong.

I tried not to stare, but I was drawn to that small flash of color. I was enthralled with the idea of that soft silk, no, satin fabric nestled in those hard muscles. I bet he felt the tug of the fabric in his groin when he dipped down low. I wondered if he walked around his place in just that thong, and if he wore other things.

I grew hard thinking about it. I was grateful for the tight jock that held it and my boys in place. I couldn't take my eyes off his lowering rear, catching the briefest flashes before he stood, making it vanish from sight. Over and over again, I watched it appear and disappear. Sweat was pouring off my body because I wouldn't, no, couldn't stop staring at it.

The treadmill timer made my decision for me. I almost slammed into it when it started slowing down. I did my cool down and Panty Boy, as I had taken to calling him, moved to a chest press. I watched as he pushed out, his muscles bulging, his face showing the strain of the heavy weight. I couldn't stay any longer. He was turning me on too much.

I wiped down the machine and bolted from the gym. I had to get off. I didn't think he was doing it on purpose, but he was cock teasing me. I slammed my door behind me, headed straight to my bedroom with a trail of my discarded clothes behind me. I tossed myself onto the bed and didn't waste a minute to grab my aching eight inch cock and furiously stroked one out thinking of Panty Boy's thong between those delicious muscled cheeks.

I had never shot so quickly or so hard in my life. My stomach and chest were splattered in my excitement, but my balls still felt full, needing to be emptied. I laid there panting, coated in sweat and semen, too exhausted to get up. The softness of the bed took me, and I fell asleep with lustful thoughts about Panty Boy.

I woke up sticky, stinky, hungry and still horny. I took care of the first two in the shower and was tempted to take care of a third as well. Hunger beat horny out. I got dressed, ordering my cock to behave. I walked out of the complex, not even realizing I was looking for some hint of Panty Boy.

Every man I saw, no matter how they looked, I wondered if under their pants they too were sporting some lacey underwear. I was becoming obsessed. I wasn't even into women's underwear, but seeing that big masculine muscle man in something so small and feminine soft did something to me.

I blew another two loads Saturday night before going to bed. I went back to the gym, bound and determine to run him out of my mind. I got there as early as possible. I was fifteen minutes into my run when he came in again. A crop top cut off tee that showed that hard muscled stomach and a loose pair of shorts.

He hopped onto the lone elliptical machine and began going full steam. He was just out of the corner of my eye. My eyes saw red. Not out of anger, but the red strap of something he was wearing. They were definitely not men's underwear. I wanted to go over and pull his pants down and see what he was wearing. It was driving me crazy.

Again the treadmill stopped me, and I rushed back to my apartment where I repeated Saturday's monumental explosions once again. This time after my shower, I hopped onto the apps to see what trade I could find, but none interested me. None were Panty Boy. The few messages I did get were faceless guys sending me pictures of their dicks asking if I was interested. I wasn't. Not for them.

I had just about gotten him off my mind when Friday came and I decided to do laundry again. One of the washers was going, the same one from last time. I took the machine beside it before sitting and waiting, wanting to see if the owner was who I thought it was. It was. I stared blatantly as his ass, following the lines of his underwear.

He moved the clothes to the dryer, and I moved mine right beside his once they were ready. He ignored me when came back to grab his cloths, rushing out and back to the safety of his place. I guess that's why he didn't notice that he left one of his precious panties behind, having fallen out the basket.

I grabbed them, feeling how soft the white underwear as. They were like briefs but had a strip of cloth that had no place to go but between cheeks. They were, admittedly nice, with floral designs in lace all around them. I quickly tucked them into my pocket, feeling dirty and sneaky. It excited me to know I had his underwear, I just didn't know what to do with them just yet.

If he missed them and suspected I had them, he didn't let on when I saw him in the gym that Saturday or Sunday. I swear his clothes got smaller and smaller just so he could tease me with the barest glimpses of what he hid underneath. It was driving me crazy not to be able to see it all, to see him in just those supposedly taboo undergarments.

This time when I went back to my place after being blue balled in the gym, I had my cock in one hand, his panties in another. Each unfulfilling blast just instilled in me the desire for him and his panty clad body even more. I knew it was going to have to be me who made the first move, the very contradiction of who I was. It was that or live with aching balls the rest of my life.

Friday came, and I really didn't have enough laundry to do, but I still went to the laundry room in desperate need to see him and his panty lines. I ran a machine just to run it. He came in just as before, pulled his stuff out his machine and put it in the dryer. I licked my lips at the thought what he had hidden under his tough macho exterior.

I had his panties in my pocket. I knew it would have been the right thing to return them, but I just couldn't. Not without him knowing. That's the only reason I can think of for doing what I did. It was totally out of character for me. I guess our quiet time together got me comfortable with him, couple that with my longing to see him in satin sexiness, I grew bold.

When he came back to get his clothes from the drier, I watched him bed over, making him almost my height. I got up, moved over to him, and pulled the panties from my pocket. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears when I bent over and dropped the found panties into his basket.

"I found the panties you dropped." I whispered in his ear. He froze, his body rigid with fear and defensiveness. I was certain he could have pounded me into the floor if he wanted but he didn't move. "I'd love to see you in them sometime." He didn't even turn his head to look at me as my lips brushed his ear. "I'm free all night. Apartment 23 D. I bet you have a lot of frilly things you'd like to show me."

I didn't wait for his response. I just hightailed it back to my apartment amazed I could be so bold. My mind ran every scenario. He's come to my apartment and beat my ass. He'd do it in the gym in the morning. He'd change his schedule and I'd never see him again. The only scenario that I couldn't fathom was him actually coming over.

As soon as I got home, I had jumped in the shower to calm myself and my nerves. I had just slipped into some sweat shorts and an old tee when I heard the knock on my door. I hadn't expected it to be him when I opened the door only to find him there. All broad shouldered, muscled and tall.

He had changed too, into some jeans and a tight fitting tee that clung to his body and made my mouth water. "May I come in?" It was the first time I heard his voice. It was deep but soft. I could see that his cheeks were flushed red with shame or embarrassment. I just stepped aside and motioned him to come in, flabbergasted that he actually came and not to beat my ass.

We stood there in the entrance to my apartment, him the mighty giant, me the tiny ant. Neither of us knew what to say. Finally I just blurted out, "I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I should have snuck those panties back in your laundry instead of doing what I did."

He was silent a minute, taking in my words. "Look," he finally said, "I just came over to do whatever you wanted if you promised not to tell anyone about my little proclivity." He seemed to inflate his chest. "You know a big guy like me can't let it get out that he likes to wear certain... things. So tell me what you want and I'll do it, and we'll be done with it."

I was taken back by his words. I couldn't believe I had done this to him, made him feel like I was blackmailing him. "I am so sorry." I shook my head, moving my hands to cover my heart. "I didn't do what I did to force you to do something you didn't want to do. I just thought you were, um, kind of flirting with me."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You've been bending over in front of me at the laundry, then did squats right behind me in the gym." It was clicking that he hadn't even noticed me. "Then your clothes got skimpier and skimpier in the gym." I saw the hint of an amused smile on his stubbled face. "You were flirting, right?"

"I wasn't flirting." My ego was crushed. "I was teasing." It was my turn to be confused. "I kind of get off by being around people, doing things where they might see what I'm wearing underneath, but not know." He wiped his face with his hand. "It's that hint of danger of being found out, but that safety of no one knowing."

I sighed. "Would you like to come in and talk?" I smiled. "I'm Trevor." I stuck my hand out. He took my hand, his mighty hand enveloping mine. I couldn't believe I had misread the entire situation, but at least I was could get a friend out of it. "I'm new here, so you don't have to worry about me telling anyone about your sexy underwear."

"I'm Roger." I noticed his body was more relaxed when he let go of my hand. "Welcome to the complex." We were both a bit more at ease now. "I'd love to sit and talk." We stood there a minute when it hit him. "I'm sorry, I forget how big I am sometimes." He laughed smacking his forehead. "This way?"

I followed him into my living room where we sat on the couch. He took up the left side, and I sat crossed leg on the other side, looking at him. He was beautifully handsome. I grabbed us some beers and we chatted for a bit, about family, love lives, work and then the subject came up. The one we had been dancing around, that we both wanted to talk about.

"I bet you're wondering why a big ole boy like me likes to wear women's things." I almost spit out my beer when he said it. "Let's get it out in the open. You seem like a cool guy and if you tell anyone I'll sit on you." We both laughed at his mock threat. "It happened in college, some frat hazing initiation where all the pledges had to wear women's underwear for week. I quit the pledging but not the underwear."

"Where you as big as you are now then?" I sat my bottle down, and leaned in. I was imagining all this hot little frat boy wannabes in various forms of women's underwear running around campus, trying not to be busted by their peers. "I mean, where do you find things that fit you? You're not, well, my size."

"No, I wasn't, but close." He sat his empty on the table. "I order most of my stuff on line and hope that it fits." He blushed slightly, but didn't have any shame in his voice. "There are a few sites that cater to men like myself. The real problem comes when guys find out. They don't understand how a top can be into wearing these things."

He was a top. I made the mental note. "Hey, I totally get it. People look at me and just assume I'm a bottom." I let that hang between us for a second. "I am, but just to assume it is just annoying. I'm actually a versatile bottom, but when I try to top most guys it's like a Chihuahua trying to hump a Great Dane."

"You could get a step stool." It was nice to be able to talk to someone like this again. I felt comfortable with Roger, and he was obviously getting comfortable with me. "You know," he said a bit shyly, "I did come over here with the intent of parading around in my underwear for you." My heart raced. "I've never really did that for someone, you know strip and show them my panties."

My cock was hard. Was he really offering to let me ogle him, maybe touch him and his panties? "Only if you want to." I said as a way to give him a way out. "I admit, that I'm intrigued." He stood up with a grin on his face. "So are you going to put on a sexy show for me? Do I need to go get some ones?"

I turned on the couch so I could watch him. He stood towering over me. "This one's on the house. Just remember this is like my first time ever doing this." He pulled the edges of his shirt up and off, revealing that luscious body I had been eyeing in the gym. I laughed when he made his pecs bounce for me.

We didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on me. I kept my eyes on his body, wanting to reach out and touch him. He kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his pants and slowly moved the zipper down. He turned quickly, preventing me from seeing what he was wearing. He looked back over his shoulder at me before his slowly slide his pants down, bending at the waist.

He was wearing a thong that had a strip of lace that covered the top of his crack. Two straps came down on either side and connected to these sheer fishnets. I just stared mesmerized by the sight. It was hot. He was hot. He stepped out the pants and turned around, allowing me to see his very erect and hard cock pushing against the see through fabric. He stepped closer to me, a slight twist in his walk.

I looked up at him, he wordlessly told me it was okay to touch him. My hands started on his calves and slowly moved up, feeling the softness of the garments. I watched him close his, a sense of pleasure he had denied himself exploded across his face. I moved a hand over his cock. He was definitely proportional. It was almost taller than me it seemed.

He let out a soft groan as I explored his body. I moved my hands over ridges of his abdominals, wondering how many sit ups it took to get them. My hands moved a long his sides, going to his hips where, I turned him to present to me those glorious globes. Perfect and hairless, a thing black fabric dividing them for me.

I squeezed and fondled them. I leaned in and kissed the left cheek. Roger let out another low moan. I kissed the other cheek, getting the same response. I sucked on the cheek, letting my tongue draw a little circle on his skin. Roger gasped. My hands explored his nylon and satin covered body.

Roger was getting turned on, so was I. He turned in my grip, presenting himself to me. His cock protruded lewdly up and out of his panties. A dribble of precum was forming on the cut tip. I pulled his thong down slightly, freeing his magnificent member. He made his cock bounce for me, telling me to go for it.

He was thick, a good three inches around, and eight in length. Luckily he wasn't dealing with any amateur. My hand barely got around it as I aimed it for my mouth. I kissed the tip in tribute, letting his sweet liquid coat my lips. I licked it off then swirled my tongue around the spherical head. Roger stifled a groan.

He was holding back. Little did he know I'd have him screaming like a banshee. I pointed him up toward his belly button. I ran my tongue from the bottom of his tip to the top of his balls then back again. The sound he made was a little louder this time. I moved back down his shaft, this time swiping my tongue back and forth.

I was rewarded with a gravely, "Fuck." I looked up at him, grinning like the cat that was about to eat the canary. Then I ate the canary. I swallowed him, taking his fat phallus down my throat easily. I was in heaven. A big strong man above me, his eight inches buried in my throat. I looked up his sculpted body to see him looking down at me in amazement.