Mrs. Kaufman left our home that evening and left her panties in my pocket. I think you know what happened next. I could hardly wait to get up to my room and rub her silky pink panties on my cock. They were the perfect lubricant to add to the cum that started flowing instantly when she gave me her panties.
I had no desire to restrain my pleasure, and in less than a minute my cum was launching two feet into the air and splashing all over my chest. I slept soundly that night with Mrs. Kaufman's panties in my hand, dreaming about continuing with "our project."
On Sunday, I devised a plan for Mrs. Kaufman at her church. This was where I'd known her as a pillar of the congregation, a kindly woman who always had encouraging words for the younger folks. It was this reputation of hers as a stalwart goody-goody type that fueled my passion to try to break down her resistance.
So far, I was more than pleased with the results of my efforts. Starting slowly and showing empathy for her situation as a woman with larger breasts and by asking her questions, Mrs. Kaufman had allowed me to handle her breasts in ways that would have shocked her had I been more aggressive.
She clearly felt safe enough in my hands to risk fondling. And my questions gave her the option to play along or to put an end to the flirting. So far, so good.
Before church, I dressed in a sport coat and instead of a pocket square for a little flair, I put Mrs. Kaufman's panties in the front pocket of my jacket. I carefully puffed out a little bit of pink silk so that it did not look like a woman's panties. Just a little puff of pink was showing.
I sat a few pews behind the Kaufmans at the service, and I could hardly concentrate on anything except her lovely form. Had she said anything to him about my behavior? Did he notice she wasn't wearing her panties last night after dinner? Had she told him everything? Thoughts like this did make me a little nervous, but they also made me wilder with desire for this lovely woman-of-a-certain-age.
At the end of the service, I saw the Kaufmans in the foyer and I had second thoughts about greeting them with her panties in my pocket for all to see. I was about to sneak out when Mr. Kaufman called out, "Hello, glad to see you again."
In an instant, I felt relieved. Apparently he was not aware of how I had coaxed his wife during the past week. As we shook hands, I noticed the look of shock on Mrs. Kaufman's face. She was staring at her panties.
Mr. Kaufman said, "My, that's a nice jacket, and I like your pocket kerchief. Nothing wrong with a man wearing some pink."
I smiled, and touched his wife's panties, "Yes, I thought I'd be a little bold today."
Mrs. Kaufman was adorable standing there next to her husband and looking at a young man who had fondled her breasts and was now displaying her panties to everyone. Of course, no one knew, except Mrs. Kaufman and me.
What I did next probably overplayed my hand and invited more risk than necessary. "I like to wear silks like this on jackets to give some color and flair. This one is very soft. Would you like to feel it?"
Mrs. Kaufman slowly and carefully raised her hand and gently rolled the pink silk between her fingers. As her husband looked on, she said, "Yes, indeed, quite soft."
Then, to my surprise, she turned the tabled on me and asked, "Tell me, where do you get nice silks like this?"
As Mr. Kaufman smiled and looked on, I replied, "I have a friend who gave me this one."
Mrs. Kaufman looked me right in the eye and said, "Well, you should thank that friend for such a gift. I'm sure that you have, or you will, thank them."
"Indeed, I shall," I said.
They nodded and moved away toward the door. My heart was in my throat, wondering if Mrs. Kaufman had issued me an invitation to fuck her or if she just enjoyed toying with a young man. Her reputation for sobriety and proper appearances were at odds with this wife who seemed to respond to my wandering hands and to my foul suggestions.
A day passed, then two days, with no word from Mrs. Kaufman. I was eager to see her again in the privacy of her home, but I wanted to be careful and not more aggressive than I had already been.
Finally, Mrs. Kaufman called to ask about getting back to the photo project. When she asked, "Could you come by tomorrow?" my answer was an eager, "yes."
The next day, I arrived at her doorstep promptly at noon, as she had asked. When she opened the door, Mrs. Kaufman was dressed in an elegant skirt, blouse, and jacket and wore sensible heels. I had been dreaming and scheming about what to do next. A few days earlier, I had been on the verge of removing her bra when her husband came home and interrupted the unveiling of his wife's breasts. How should I behave this time? Maybe it would be best to ignore my previous groping and just work on the photos. Nah!
She walked me into the livingroom. I sat on the sofa, but she didn't join me as I'd hoped. Instead she stood in front of me and surprised me by starting the conversation, "The last time you were in this room, you made me feel so good by taking an interest in my past. But I know what you were up to, and I let myself enjoy being touched by a naughty boy."
This took my by surprise.
"You were very naughty to touch me like that, and you were very naughty to use words like 'nipple' and 'pussy' and especially to wear my panties in your pocket for my husband to see." "What if he had recognized them?"
I recovered from the surprise of her words enough to reply, "Does he know that you gave your panties to a young man? Do you give your panties to lots of men?"
Mrs. Kaufman smiled and turned her head. Perhaps my words angered her.
"Dear fellow," she said, "what I do with my panties is my own business."
"Well then," I said, "we are in the same business."
With that, she smiled and laughed to break the tension. We were quiet as Mrs. Kaufman removed her jacket. Her plain white blouse was stretched tight across her breasts, and I stared at them as I had the other day.
"Where were we?" she asked.
