The Magic Panties

When I walked into the house Mike said, half-laughing, "Where have you been? We're going to Wendy and Bob's for dinner, remember? We're supposed to be there in an hour."

"Yeah. I..." I glanced at the kitchen clock and gasped. I must have been at Maggie's for two hours. I guess I just lost track of time. "I stopped at a garage sale and bought some retro clothing."

Mike looked at the bag I was dragging behind me and whistled. "I guess you bought a lot. That's a big bag you have there. How much did you spend?"

Once again I was a bit shocked. I hadn't realized that Maggie had filled up one of those big black contractor garbage bags. I mean it was

stuffed

with clothing. "I...I only spent twenty dollars."

"Wow," Mike said. "Are you going to wear something from the bag tonight?"

"Sure," I said. And I knew exactly what—the yellow halter top. "Let me go shower."

"Before you do," Mike said, "tell me how you did in your match."

"Oh, Wendy and I played a couple of members so we let the score be close. We could have creamed them but, you know, what would be the fun in that? They gave us each fifty dollars as a tip, so that was nice. I'm glad the club lets me have Wendy help me in doubles lessons. I get more business that way." You see, I was a pro at a very exclusive club that Wendy could not afford to join, but I got her on the tennis courts a few times a week to help me out. It was a great deal for both of us.

"You two are awesome as a team," Mike said. "Maybe someday you'll team up on me."

"Ha ha. You'd like that, wouldn't you? What kind of tip would you give us?"

"The tip of..."

"Shut up. Let me go shower."

*

I lingered under the hot water, thinking about what Mike had said about Wendy. I had often fantasized about her but nothing had ever happened between us. She was my guru, my older self as it were, a woman who gave me advice about everything. And she was

gorgeous

. Anyway, thinking about the possibility of a threesome with Mike and Wendy made me a bit horny. I soaped my hands over and over, sliding them over my breasts and letting my nipples slip between my fingers. I stayed in the shower so long the water started to cool off. Time to get out.

After toweling off I dried my hair. I liked the way I looked in the mirror—when I lifted the hair dryer my tits flattened against my chest, making my nipples stick straight out. I wondered what was going on with me—why I was having such sexual thoughts. It had to be some lingering effect of the time I spent with Maggie, especially the recurring image playing out in my mind of jism exploding out of her mouth onto her chest.

Anyway, I composed myself and slipped on the black panties Maggie had given me. They were tiny—not exactly a thong, but only large enough to cover half my butt. And they seemed to be

alive

. After I pulled them on I thought I felt them move. It had to be my imagination but I swear I felt them massaging me, especially between my legs. So much pressure built on my clit that I had to grab the vanity just to remain standing. Mercifully the sensation passed so I could continue getting dressed.

I should say I could continue getting

half-dressed

. First I put on the yellow halter top and tied it behind my back. It covered my boobs, but just barely, ending about two inches below them. When I examined myself in the mirror, turning from side to side, I saw that my breasts would be visible to anyone standing to either side of me and behind me, someone who was intent on taking a peek. I mean anyone looking at me from that position would be able to see one of my boobs almost in its entirety, nipple and all.

I closed my eyes and imagined Bob straining his neck to get a look and felt a little thrill of excitement rush through my body. It's not as though Bob had never seen my tits—after all, he, Wendy, my husband and I had all gone to topless beaches in the past. The idea, though, that he would be seeing my boobs when he

shouldn't

be seeing my boobs was exciting. I took a deep breath, shook off the feeling of excitement and rummaged through the bag for something else to wear.

I pulled out a pair of black short-shorts that I didn't even remember seeing while I was at Maggie's. When I put them on I discovered that they were hip-huggers that barely covered my pubic area. In addition, the legs were so short that the bottom part of my ass stuck out. Once again a surge of excitement ripped through me and, once again, it felt like my panties were tightening up on me.

By the time I walked into the kitchen my hormones were raging. Mike took one look at me and said, "Jesus

Christ

. That outfit is...is..."

I twirled around and smiled. "Do you like it?"

"Hell, yes," he said. "I actually saw your tits when you turned around and your ass...man, it looks so inviting."

"Hmmm," I said, pretending to actually think about something. "Is it too revealing? What if...what if Bob can see my breasts. Would that bother you?"

"Jeez," Mike said. "I don't know. It's not like he's never seen them before but in this case...he'd be like a peeping Tom. I'm not sure I like that."

"Oh, well," I said. "I guess I'll take it off."

"

No

," Mike said. "It's like

I'm

a peeping Tom as well. It's really kind of exciting. So...I'd rather continue peeping even if he gets a look. But your ass..."

"What about it?"

"I see more of your butt when you wear a bikini but once again..."

"Once again," I said, "it's like you're not supposed to see it, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "But it's more than that. Usually I have to put my hands

down

your shorts but with these..." He pulled me hard against his body, slid his hands down my back and then put both of them up the legs of my shorts. I moaned, wrapped my arms around his neck and drove my tongue into his mouth. After massaging my ass cheeks for a minute or so he kept one hand on my back side and slid the other around to my front. Somehow he made his way under my panties and eased two fingers into me.

"Don't," I whispered. "We...we have to go."

"Move with me," he said.

"We...oh,

God

." Mike pulled me toward him with one hand and drove his fingers deeper with the other. Then he eased up, letting me slide backward so his fingers could slip out of me, pausing a bit before he pulled on me again. He kept up this in-out motion, picking up speed. As best I could I managed to lift one leg and hook me foot on the kitchen counter top, all the while never stopping to take a breath, keeping my lips pressed against his and my tongue in his mouth. I was so wet I heard wet squishing noises coming from my pussy as he rammed his fingers in and out.

Frantic to come I let go of his neck, spread my palms on the counter top, wrapped my legs around his waist and whispered, "Faster. Harder."

He moved faster and harder, all right, but it was when he finger made his way into my tight hole that I screamed, "I'm

coming

."

Oh my God. What a wonderful orgasm. It seemed to last forever. When it passed I lowered my legs one at a time until I was on firm ground. I kissed Mike and, in a low husky voice, asked, "Do you want a blow job?"

"Yes," he said. "But I can wait until later. You're panties are soaked. Do you want to change them?"

"Uh uh," I said. "I like the feeling I have right now. Let's just go. I'll let the moisture remind me of what just happened. I love it when you make me come with your fingers. It leaves me wanting more and, trust me, we'll have more when we get home later."