Dan often felt uneasy. He would nod and smile and try to get along with the lads, but they just weren’t his scene. Not really. He always felt more comfortable around girls. Girls were smarter, more fun to go out with, and they looked so much better too. Such beautiful faces, bodies, clothes - everything about girls seemed better than boys.
When he started seeing Lucy, it was more admiration than love. She had a beautifully soft, calming voice. A petite girl - flowing dark hair, pretty hourglass figure with pert round boobs, a slim flat tummy, and gorgeously curved hips and bum. “Do you think we should get together, then?” she said, after they’d had a couple of drinks together. “I can see the way you look at me. You want to see what I look like in my bra and knickers don’t you?”
Well, that’s a confident girl. And she was right. Dan had tried not to be obvious, but he had been trying to steal a glance at her breasts - held perfectly in a lacy white bra - when she leaned forward to pick up her glass of wine. When they’d walked into the bar, he’d walked behind her, admiring the easy sway of her hips, and noticing a tiny peak of silky knickers poking above her casual shorts. The bra strap flat across her back. The way she slipped a finger in under her shirt to pull her shoulder strap back into place.
“Umm. Yes. Can we do that?” Dan felt a little stupid. But she was right. He’d give anything to go back to her house, be invited into her bedroom, and spend a few hours taking her clothes off and - with a bit of luck - fucking every way they could think of until they fell asleep.
“Let’s go, then,” she said. OK, so she was always going to take the lead. That’s the way it would be. He felt almost ridiculously submissive as he followed her out of the bar, leaving half-finished drinks, feeling drunk, wondering if it was OK that she was so forward.
She had a great little bedroom. One other flatmate, but a whole floor to herself. Big bed in the middle of the space, racks and racks of little dresses and blouses and all sorts of other girly treats all around.
She unbuttoned her top, and slipped the shoulders off. She was beautiful. A perfect little figure. Soft smooth skin, and that white lacy, perfectly fitted bra clasping her breasts, which gently lifted and sank with her aroused breathing. He pulled off her knickers. They made love. For hours. But that’s not what this story is about.
*
The next morning, he woke up in her bed, and found her gone, with just a note. “Feel free to stay all day. I’m back in the evening. My flatmate’s out. The house is yours to do as you please. Please stay. My pussy really enjoyed last night, and I want to do it again.”
Dan got up, showered, thinking of all the times she’d showered there before dressing herself - knickers on, bra on, and then her choice of clothes from the amazing selection on the racks around her room.
He had a quick look around the house - all very nice - helped himself to some cereal, and went back to Lucy’s room. He noticed last nights’ clothes on the floor. Her bra. Her knickers. There was a note on the knickers: “Sniff me. Don’t be ashamed.”
He picked them up, tiny lacy panties. They were white shiny satin at the front, with lace details, and of course an absorbent cotton gusset. On the gusset were stains from Lucy’s cunt. A day’s worth of her private sexy thoughts causing little licks of secret wetness. He admired them - just think what had been inside them. He sniffed them. There was an amazing salty musky smell. Moments from last night flooded his memory. Lying on his back with her on top, he had lifted her by her armpits, and she had wriggled with frustration as he held her with just the tip of his cock inside her pussy. She was straining for it, but he wouldn’t let her have it... and then he let her sink all the way down and she had groaned with satisfaction as he watched her cunt swallow the full length of his dick. Full of cock, she had ground her pussy around, clamping down, refusing to let him get his dick out of her, grinding her clit on him, her juices all over his pubes and his balls.
He put his two thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and held them open. There’s more where these come from, that’s for sure. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he went over to her chest of drawers and pulled the top drawer open. Make up, jewellery, a couple boxes of tampons and panty liners, and at least two vibrators just rolling around in there. Interesting. Back for that in a while. But that’s not the drawer I want.
He pulled open the second drawer. And there it was. Her underwear drawer. All nicely arranged. Arranged with pride. Arranged to show them off. Rows of knickers: colourful thongs, silky panties, satin date-night knickers, black, white, pretty pinks, reds, blues, more knickers than any one girl could possibly need in a month. And bras. So many bras. All arranged with their cups facing forward and their straps tucked behind, keeping them in good condition. Bras to match every pair of knickers. Silky black bras, lacy white bras. A wet-look leather bra. Pretty little girly bralettes in all sorts of soft colours - pinks, yellows and baby blues. There was even a row of basques, with ribbons tangling. This was a drawer designed for fun.
And there was a note: “Pick your favourite and try it on. Dare you.”
Dan had already thought of that. This was an unbelievable opportunity. He didn’t need the note. He was going to do it anyway. He fingered the knickers, careful not to put them out of their careful arrangement. He couldn’t possibly let her know that he had been in her underwear drawer. Then he ran his hand across the rows and rows of bras. What a great choice. What great taste. So sexy.
Then he had a brilliant idea. Rather than risk disturbing the arrangement, so she might find out what he had done, he would try on the knickers and bra that were lying on the floor beside him. The ones with her sweat, her juices and her sexy smell all over.
He put on the knickers first. They would be tight, but he should be able to get them onto his boringly straight man’s hips. They felt great, and he loved thinking about her vaginal juices against his balls.
He picked the bra up by a single shoulder strap. It hung from his fingers, such a light garmet, so clever, so complicated. Lacy bits here, silky bits there, straps and clasps and adjusters. So totally alien compared to his boring male underwear. He put an arm through one shoulder strap, then the other, drawing the cups to his chest. And he fastened the clasp behind his back.