The morning sun, a gilded whisper, caressed the room through sheer curtains, painting streaks of gold and ivory across the sleepy air. It was the kind of light that promised serenity, unhurried truths, and the sweet honesty of a new day.

You stirred, a slow unfurling beneath the silken covers, your eyelids fluttering open to greet the soft dawn. The sheets, cool where your legs had escaped their embrace in the quiet of the night, offered a gentle counterpoint to the warm curve of Teddy’s body nestled against yours. Her leg, a soft weight, lay draped across your thigh, her face tucked into the tender hollow of your neck.

You didn’t move. Not yet. This fragile, perfect moment demanded stillness.

You breathed her in: the hushed rhythm of her chest, rising and falling with a cadence that mirrored your own heart. The delicate twitch of her fingers in sleep, as if even in dreams, she was reaching for you. A slow, tender smile bloomed on your lips.

Then, a delicious jolt—the whisper of memory. The panties. They were still folded, a silent promise, on the nightstand. Still humming with the delicious afterglow of last night’s secrets. The thought sent a curious flutter through your stomach, a warm, eager thrill that was anything but nerves.

Intrigue.

Your gaze drifted downward, lingering on the bare expanse of your hips beneath the sheet. The absence of your usual underwear felt not wrong, but profoundly freeing. A lightness settled deep within you.

Teddy stirred, a languid stretch accompanied by a sleepy, contented hum. Her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, slowly opened. When she met your gaze, her lips curved into a lazy, heart-stopping smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you murmured, your fingers threading through the soft tumble of her hair.

She held your gaze for a moment, her eyes quiet, soft, utterly awake in that way only lovers are after a night woven with such tender intimacy.

Then: “So.”

You lifted an eyebrow, a silent invitation. “So?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, propping herself on one elbow, her eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous delight. “Last night… was kind of amazing.”

“Kind of?” you challenged, a playful heat blooming in your chest.

“Okay, very.” She grinned, a radiant, captivating sight. “And I think we should make it a regular thing.”

You stretched beneath the covers, a theatrical attempt at nonchalance. “You want to keep playing dress-up?”

Her gaze deepened, becoming soft, earnest, and utterly captivating. “I want you to feel that confident, that sexy, that wanted… every single day.” She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your collarbone, her voice a warm caress. “And I think wearing panties full time would help with that.”

You blinked, caught deliciously between amusement and a profound, nascent intrigue. “That’s a big suggestion for before coffee.”

She nipped playfully at your shoulder, a touch that sent shivers down your spine. “It’s not about me. It’s about what you want.”

You stared at the ceiling, her words a soft, insistent tumble in your mind.

You thought about it—truly, deeply considered it. Boxers, with their excess fabric, had always felt cumbersome, flapping awkwardly under your pants. Boxer briefs were an improvement, yes, but they rode up, bunched at your thighs, demanding constant, irritating adjustments. You’d worn them out of habit, not out of desire. Never because they made you feel good.

The panties held you, framed you, and embraced you. They made you feel… special. Intentional. Like your body mattered in a way that transcended mere function. You glanced at her, still nestled so perfectly in the crook of your arm. She wasn’t pushing, not truly. Just offering. Just seeing you.

“I never liked boxers,” you said quietly, the confession feeling surprisingly liberating. “Briefs were better, but…”

“But they weren’t you,” she finished, her voice a soft echo of your thought.

You nodded. Somewhere deep within your chest, a soft, resonant click. Not a transformation, not yet. There was a profound, quiet realization.

“I think full-time panties might be best,” you said, the words feeling utterly right as they left your lips. “Comfort-wise. Confidence-wise. Everything-wise.”

Her eyes lit up, a breathtaking spark of joy. She kissed your chest again, her hand trailing slowly, exquisitely, down your side. “Then let’s make it happen.”

You grinned, tugging her in closer, a warmth spreading through you. “You just want an excuse to go lingerie shopping again.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, her laughter a melodic cascade. “But I also want you walking around this apartment in lace and nothing else. So really… win-win.”

The kitchen hummed with the cozy symphony of a lazy morning: the bright pop of toast from the toaster, the soft thrum of the fridge, and the crisp, satisfying crack of an energy drink tab being pulled. You stood at the counter, comfortable in a long T-shirt that grazed your bare thighs, sipping from a neon pink can and savoring peanut butter toast.

Teddy sat cross-legged at the kitchen table, swathed in one of your hoodies and absolutely nothing else, still radiating the intoxicating glow of the night before. Her gaze, warm and amused, drifted over you, clearly appreciating the view.

“So,” she said between bites of her toast, her tone brimming with delightful purpose, “if we’re doing this—and I think we should—you’re going to need a real panty drawer.”

You raised an eyebrow, licking peanut butter from your thumb. “I figured I’d just… rotate the same three lace pairs?”

She snorted, a charmingly exasperated sound. “You would think that. No, babe. Lace is fun and sexy. However, it’s not built for every day—at least not the kind that doesn’t start unraveling the second you sit on a warm car seat.”

You blinked. “That’s a horrifyingly specific warning.”

“I’ve lived a life,” she said with a nonchalant shrug, a twinkle in her eye. “Anyway, you’ll want some comfy basics. Cotton or microfiber. Something breathable. Seamless is great under jeans. Maybe a few boy-shorts, a couple bikini cuts, and some briefs.”

You sipped your drink, leaning against the counter, utterly charmed. “You’re out here giving me the starter pack rundown.”

“Absolutely,” she said, her chest swelling with playful pride. “Think of it like… lingerie loadouts. Lace is your ‘going-out-to-seduce’ gear. Modal and stretch cotton are for workdays, errands, and lazy couch vibes. Maybe a mesh pair for when you’re feeling bold-but-practical.”

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. “I can’t tell if this is the hottest or most wholesome conversation I’ve ever had.”

“It’s both,” she said, rising and crossing the kitchen to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “That’s what I want this to be for you. Hot and normal. Special, but not rare.”

You looked at her, at the radiant way she beamed when you smiled back, and felt something deep inside you loosen—something that hadn’t even known it was holding on.

“Okay,” you said, a newfound eagerness in your voice. “Teach me. I want a drawer that makes you proud.”

“Oh, I’m already proud,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you close. “But wait ‘til I show you the bamboo blend ones. Your ass is gonna look divine.”

You nearly choked on your toast, erupting into laughter.

“Just one question,” you managed once you caught your breath.

“Yeah?”

“What color is everyday confidence?”

She grinned, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes, as if she’d been waiting for that very question. “Start with black. Then we build from there.”

The fluorescent lights of the store buzzed softly, casting a bright, unsparing glow over endless rows of folded fabric. You stood beside Teddy in the women’s intimates section of a sprawling big-box store, staring at a wall of multicolored panties.

It felt oddly surreal. Like stepping into a dimension you’d never realized existed—where words like hipster, cheeky, and high-rise cotton blend were somehow secret code for comfort, confidence, and the occasional unexpected lace trim.

Teddy stood in front of a bin labeled 5 for $20, her movements graceful as she sifted through the options, as if selecting the finest vintage wine.

“These,” she said, holding up a pale lavender pair edged with delicate lace and scalloped trim, “are hipsters. Low rise, good coverage in the back, and they sit across your hips in that really flattering way. Cute, comfy, can wear them under basically anything.”

You took them, your fingers tracing the fabric. Smooth. Soft. The lace wasn’t scratchy, but a delicate, appealing texture. “They look… small.”

“They’re supposed to,” she said with a delightful grin. “Your briefs had too much bulk anyway. These’ll hug you instead of bunching. You’ll barely feel them—until you do.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, a playful tease that sent a delicious flush creeping up your neck. You fought it and gloriously lost.

Next, she plucked a solid black pair from the bin—no lace, just simple, breathable cotton. These are bikini styles. Think of them like the standard issue of girl underwear. Low at the front, higher on the legs, shows a little cheek in the back. Great for everyday stuff.”

You nodded, actually absorbing the information, the differences in shape making more sense up close. These would sit precisely where your old underwear never quite behaved. They did not ride up or bunch up. They were clean, smooth, and comfortable.

Teddy pulled a vibrant red pair from a lower shelf—sleek, thin, and conspicuously… missing material. “And these,” she announced with dramatic flair, “are thongs.”

You raised an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on your lips. “These look like a shoelace with an attitude.”

She snorted, a low, throaty laugh. “They kind of are. Don’t get me wrong, they’re sexy—great for no panty lines. But for you? Not ideal for everyday wear.”

“Why not?”

Without warning, she stepped close, her hand casually, intimately, cupping your package through your jeans. You flinched—half from surprise, half from the sheer, exhilarating confidence with which she claimed the space.

“Because this,” she said, giving you a gentle, knowing squeeze, “needs room and support. Thongs don’t give you either. You’ll be adjusting yourself every five minutes and thinking about it in places you don’t want it.”

You stared at her, caught deliciously between being utterly turned on and on the verge of hysterical laughter. “God, you’re so confident in Walmart.”

She winked, her eyes sparkling. “Confidence is knowing your man’s junk deserves better than string.”

You laughed, shaking your head, a profound sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. But then you picked up a muted blue pair with a satin front and cotton back, trimmed with the tiniest whisper of lace. “These?”

She looked over your shoulder, her gaze approving. “Bikini, with a little glam. Yeah, that’s a good one. Grab a few. Stick to cotton for daily stuff, lace if you’re feeling fancy. Hipsters for lounging, and we’ll save the strappy see-through ones for… private events.”

You smiled, and a profound gratitude welled within you. “Thanks for making this fun.”

She nudged your side, her touch light and tender. “Thanks for trusting me.”

You both moved to the cart, dropping the growing collection of panties into a nest of other everyday items—toilet paper, dish soap, and almond milk. This would be just another shopping trip.

The shopping bags rustled softly as you placed them on the bed, the bright colors of the panties peeking through the thin plastic like little pieces of secret treasure. Teddy stood nearby, barefoot in one of your T-shirts again—too big on her, just the way she liked it—watching with a smile that hovered somewhere between pride and a soft, deep affection.

“You don’t have to try them all right now,” she said, her voice laced with amusement, already knowing you were going to anyway.

You grinned. “I want to.”

The first pair you picked up were the black cotton bikini briefs. Simple. Everyday. You slipped them on behind the cracked bedroom door, then stepped out for inspection.

They fit like a second skin—no ride-up, no awkward sag, no unnecessary fabric flapping around. The front hugged you without compressing, the back cupped your cheeks with just the right, tantalizing tension.

“These feel… right,” you said, smoothing your hands over your hips, a quiet wonder in your voice.

Teddy crossed the room slowly, her eyes roaming over you, a soft, possessive warmth in their depths. “That’s because they are right.” She leaned in and kissed your cheek, her voice a tender murmur. “You look relaxed. Like yourself.”

Next came the pale lavender hipsters with delicate lace trim. They slid on smoothly, a little more fabric across your hips, the lace brushing softly against your skin like a secret caress. You turned slightly in the mirror, running a hand down your thigh, a thoughtful furrow in your brow.

“I like the way these sit,” you murmured. “They feel… secure.”

“And sexy,” Teddy added, curling onto the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her, her voice a low, husky purr. “They frame you so well. Lace gives just enough tease, but you still look like someone I want to pin to the mattress.”

Your cheeks flushed, a delicious heat spreading through you, but you didn’t look away. You loved that look in her eyes, that raw, possessive desire. You loved how this wasn’t about putting on a show—it was about simply being.

You tried a few more. A dusty rose pair with satin sides—cool and sleek, a touch of understated elegance against your skin. A bold cobalt blue bikini with a tiny, playful bow at the waistband—snug, just cheeky enough to hint at untold delights.

Each one felt different. Not just physically, but emotionally. Like you were slipping into little versions of yourself you hadn’t met before, each revealing a new facet of your burgeoning confidence. All of them felt good. Profoundly, exhilaratingly good.

When you stepped into the last pair, a soft gray cotton hipster. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and paused, a sudden, breath-stopping realization washing over you. You looked… happy. Like the inside and outside of you had finally, exquisitely, stopped fighting.

Teddy noticed it too. Of course she did. She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around you from behind. She rested her cheek against your shoulder as you both looked at your reflection, two souls reflected as one.

“You look good,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But more than that… you look free.”

You swallowed hard, a lump rising in your throat that had nothing to do with nerves. “I didn’t think this would feel like… me.”

“And now?” she asked softly, her breath warm against your neck.

You leaned back into her arms, letting her strength envelop you. “Now I think I’ve been waiting to feel like this for a long time.”

She kissed your neck—slow, lingering, a whisper of devotion—and tightened her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“All I’ve ever wanted,” she murmured, her voice a raw, beautiful confession, “is for you to be happy. To see yourself the way I see you. Strong. Soft. Worthy. Beautiful.”

You turned, wrapping your arms around her, holding her close in the quiet hum of the bedroom. Just the deep, steady rhythm of being utterly known. As Teddy's fingers traced along the waistband of the panties, a soft, knowing smile gracing her lips against your chest, you realized something profound:

“You know, I love that this is just… normal now. I can't wait to see you walking around the house in panties.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful exasperation in your voice. “As long as I can see you do the same."

She smirked, her gaze lingering. “No questions asked.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. The was a moment of quiet, and you two embraced each other. Then you gave her a smile that was quiet and real, shimmering with a newfound vulnerability. “I think I’m finally breathing out.”

She squeezed your hand, her eyes shining. “Good. Because we’ve got a lot of panties to put away."

You laughed a little, a teasing note in your voice. “Oh yeah. We still need to do that.”

She sipped her coffee, a knowing smirk on her lips. “No, these are you panties. You put them away.” She gave you a swat on the ass. "There is more of that coming if you don't hurry."

You believed her. Because this was just how she was, and always had been.

You were halfway through putting your laundry away. When you looked back at Teddy, she had a delightful smirk. “I hope you are enjoying the show?" You ask, putting another pair of folded panties away.

“I can't help how good you look," Teddy said. She moved to lying on her side. At some point, she had gotten a snack. Putting another chip in her mouth, she said, "Best show around if I do say so myself.

You rolled your eyes, turning back around, but then you heard a shuffle of sheets from behind you. As you closed the dress, her hand suddenly darted forward, and with zero warning, she gave you a quick, firm poke right between the cheeks.

“Hey!” you yelped, nearly dropping a towel as you jumped an inch off the step, a surprised laugh bubbling up.

Behind you, Teddy burst into a cascade of giggles, her laughter echoing off the walls, the kind of sound that made you roll your eyes and grin at the same time.

“You’ve got such a cute little bubblebutt,” she said, clearly pleased with herself, her voice still laced with mirth. “How am I supposed to not touch it?”

You glanced over your shoulder, trying to look annoyed and failing, a slow, warm flush spreading through you. “That was a sneak attack.”

“That was appreciation,” she countered, giving your backside a not-so-subtle glance that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. “Can’t blame me. Those panties do magical things back there.”

After the last pair of panties was tucked into its designated drawer and the towels stacked neatly in the linen closet, the two of you drifted into the quiet, sacred rhythm of your evening. Dishes clinked softly in the sink, lights were dimmed, and by the time you made it to the bedroom, the world outside had fallen away completely, leaving only the two of you.

The bed was soft, the sheets still carrying the faint, comforting scent of clean cotton. You slipped beneath them with a sigh, wearing one of your comfiest new pairs—simple, black, and exquisitely snug in all the right ways. Teddy slid in beside you, fresh from the shower, warm and smelling like lavender and sleep, her presence a soft, grounding comfort.

She curled up against you, her thigh slipping between yours, her hand resting lightly on your stomach, a silent promise.

For a while, there was nothing but soft conversation and lazy, tender kisses. Then the kisses deepened. The space between you vanished, consumed by a delicious, undeniable hunger.

The bedroom was wrapped in shadows and soft breath, the only light coming from the warm, intimate glow of the bedside lamp. Sheets were tangled, bodies closer than close, and the air between you was thick with rising heat and slow, lingering kisses that stole your breath.

Teddy flipped you over and straddled your hips, moving with a sensual rhythm that was more about profound connection than desperate urgency. Her hands explored you like she had all the time in the world, her fingers tracing your sides, your stomach, your chest—sometimes soft, sometimes firm, always knowing precisely where to touch, how to ignite.

You moaned into her mouth, your hands resting on her thighs, your pulse a steady, insistent thud beneath her touch.

Then her hand drifted lower. You felt her fingers skim down the small of your back, then along the perfect curve of your ass, slow and exquisitely teasing. She kissed along your jaw, your neck, her breath warm and even as her hand slid between your cheeks, finding the line of you.

Then—she paused. Right at the very center. One fingertip, resting lightly, oh so lightly, over your butthole. Your breath caught in your throat, a sharp, silent gasp.

Your first instinct was to tense, to pull back, to protest, Hey, not there, but you didn’t. Something about the way she touched you—deliberate, yet utterly unthreatening, filled with a gentle curiosity—kept you grounded, spellbound. She wasn’t pushing.

You swallowed hard, your body still, exquisitely attuned, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. It wasn’t what you expected. And it didn’t feel wrong.

In fact…

You weren’t sure how you felt. And that alone was thrilling, a delicious, dangerous unknown.

And then—

Her mouth closed over your nipple, hot and sudden, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you groan and arch into her. Your thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.

Everything below your waist vanished in a blinding flash of sensation, replaced by the exquisite spike of pleasure she dragged from your chest. Her tongue soothed the sting immediately, her lips curling into a soft, knowing smile against your skin.

She hadn’t moved her hand. Not yet. Somehow, that just made you ache more, a profound, urgent craving.

Her mouth trailed down your neck, slow and tender, lingering in the spaces that made you sigh, made your body hum. The room was quiet except for the rustle of sheets and the soft hush of your breathing, tangled together in low light, skin against raw, seeking skin.

Teddy’s body pressed against yours, warm and grounding, her leg hooked around your hip as her hand drifted lower, fingers wrapping gently, possessively, around your growing dick. She stroked you with practiced care, her eyes fixed on your face as your breath hitched, your hips twitching up into her hand. Her touch was firm but patient—focused, intentional, utterly devastating.

Then her voice, soft but serious, resonated through the quiet air, a velvet command. “Do you trust me?”

Your eyes met hers, shining with an unwavering certainty. No hesitation. “Of course I do.”

She smiled, but there was a quiet fire in it. She kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “Then let me have you tonight,” she whispered, her voice a silken promise. “Let me take the lead.”

You swallowed, your chest rising under her, your body already capitulating. “I’m yours.”

Her hand moved again—slow, deliberate strokes that made your thighs tremble. Her other hand joined the dance, a delicate, curious exploration. She let her fingers linger, sliding lightly around your butthole, tracing slow, hypnotic circles while her other hand kept you hard and aching, on the precipice of release. You swear you felt a finger go in. It was not much, maybe just a tip.

Your body tightened with every breath, hips rolling, unsure whether to move toward her or hold on and savor this exquisite tension. You wanted to say something. Maybe to stop her or to beg her not to.

Before the thought could even form, she climbed over you, straddling your hips and lining herself up with your firm dick. With a deliberate slowness that left you shaking, she sank. She moaned low in her throat as she took you in, her body gripping you, hot and tight and everything. You gasped, your hands flying to her hips, eyes fluttering shut as her body seized you, consumed your dick.

She moved with breathtaking control, guiding every rise and fall, her hands braced on your chest, her body pressed flush to yours as her rhythm built, slow and insistent, towards an inevitable crescendo.

You were already close. Too close.

You tried to hold back—tried to breathe through it, to prolong the exquisite agony—but the potent mix of her words, her tantalizing touch, and that lingering, electric memory of her finger circling your most private place had pushed you too far, shattered your control.

You let out a sharp groan as you came. Your sperm spilled into her, your body seizing beneath her as she rode you through it, her voice a soothing hush above your pounding heartbeat, whispering words of fierce, primal encouragement.

Afterward, you sagged into the bed, panting, the delicious heat still singing in your skin.

“Shit,” you muttered, a soft, breathless confession. “I didn’t mean to—so fast. I’m sorry.”

Teddy leaned over you, brushing your sweaty hair back with the softest, most tender touch. Her smile was warm. Unshaken. Utterly loving.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, her voice a balm to your ragged nerves. “I love seeing you like that. Letting go. Coming apart for me.”

She kissed your temple, slow and sweet, a gesture of profound affection.

“That gets me off more than anything.”

The room was still, bathed in soft lamplight and the faint, intimate scent of sweat and skin. You lay on your back, heart finally slowing, breath easing as Teddy curled up against you. One leg draped over yours, her fingers tracing soft, absent-minded patterns across your chest, a silent comfort.

You weren’t sure how to speak yet, words feeling too clumsy for the raw, beautiful emotions swirling within you.

Her head rested on your shoulder, her lips brushing your collarbone as she whispered, “What did you think?”

You hesitated, your jaw tightening just slightly. You didn’t know how to articulate the profound, unexpected sensations that had just swept through you.

“It was…” You paused, staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “Nice. Different.”

She nodded, still tracing slow shapes with her fingertips, patiently waiting. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, then after a moment, a quiet admission: “I mean—it wasn’t bad. Just… new.”

Teddy shifted slightly, just enough to look up at you, her voice gentle, probing softly. “Where’d your head go just now?”

You gave a small, crooked smile, a hint of wonder in your eyes. “Honestly? I was wondering where you got the idea to… touch me like that.”

She grinned, wide and utterly unbothered, her eyes alight with amusement. “Read it in a book.”

You blinked. “A book?”

“Mmhmm.” She laid her cheek back down on your chest, her voice a soft, amused murmur. “Romance, the spicy kind. There was this scene where the guy completely melted just from being touched there. It stuck with me.”

You let that settle in, the revelation a surprising, almost comical twist.

“Oh,” you said finally, your tone still slightly stunned.

She laughed softly at your stunned tone, a delightful, melodious sound. “Relax, babe. I’m not trying to turn you into some fictional love interest. I just thought… maybe you’d like it. Maybe you’d feel something good.”

Later, when the light had been turned off and the room sank into stillness, you shifted beneath the sheets with a sleepy sigh. Your body was still loose from everything. Your skin was still buzzing faintly, not with arousal anymore, but with something deeper.

Teddy slipped in close behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist, her chest pressed to your back. The warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath against your neck. It all settled around you like a blanket you hadn’t known you needed, a precious cocoon.

One hand rested gently over your stomach, the other tucked beneath your arm. Her leg slid between yours, anchoring you with her touch. It was a perfect fit—her smaller body curled protectively around yours, every inch of her molded to you like she’d been made for it, like you’d been made for her.

You let out a quiet breath, your eyes already growing heavy, lulled by her presence.

“Comfy?” she whispered, voice low and hushed in the dark, a tender caress.

You nodded, burrowing deeper into her embrace. “Yeah.”

She kissed the back of your neck—soft, slow, lingering, a sweet whisper of devotion. “Good. Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”