I tried to look away, I really tried, but my eyes kept sneaking between my best friend’s legs. She had slumped back in the comfy chair, her legs pulled up, her knees slightly splayed, and beneath the hem of the white nightie I could glimpse the neon green yumminess of her thong crying out at me. I took another glance while she told me something about one of our classmates. Yes, it was a unicorn, small and cute and done in orange stitching, that sat right in the middle of Alice’s crotch. They were magnificent. I prayed that she was done talking soon, because the longer she did, the harder it became to pay attention, with the green object of desire so blatantly displayed in my line of vision.
* * * * *
No, really, it’s not a fetish that I have. I simply adore pretty panties and I love the soft, velvety feeling when the fabric slides over my bum and my shaved pussy lips. I’m a connoisseur of shiny colors, and there’s something so sexy when the string of a thong nestles in between my bum cheeks and keeps reminding me that there is nothing but one thin layer of cloth protecting my naked backside from the looks of everyone around me. I almost start to drool when I see a fine pair of panties in a display window, these little things of almost-see-through cuteness, with their bows and frills and tiny prints. I can appreciate all kinds of panties, thongs, boy shorts, briefs, and straight cotton ones as much as frilly things. It’s about quality, about the feeling it leaves on your skin and about the imagination of their creator.
Am I a closet exhibitionist as well? Perhaps. But who cares?
Panties are an expensive hobby, though, something I quickly learned. They drain your allowance faster than you can say "soaked crotch". Panties thus were the reason why you could find my sixteen year old self standing down on Salisbury Road in front of lingerie stores every other day, be it sunny or raining or having snowstorms, with a blissful, yearning expression on my face and my body tense from the force it took to withstand the magic pull.
It’s not something I talk about, not even to my best friends, and I used to feel safe with my little secret. Until that fateful week I spent at Alice’s place, that is.
* * * * *
Alice was my best friend, my confidante in everything that didn’t mention panties, my role model and my constant companion since we found out that she was exactly five minutes older than me. She was also a bit of a spoilt princess. Her dad earned well - that’s how she used to put it, but in truth he was filthy rich - and travelled most of the time, making up for his extended absences with regular gifts and a huge allowance. Her stepmom was into fitness and yoga and clothes and more often than not away with her gaggle of friends, leaving the house to Alice and the maid. Yes, they even had a maid! More of a housekeeper, in fact. She was Mexican, always wore black dresses and almost bubbled over with enthusiasm when she talked.
It was Easter week, and my parents, both teachers at a grammar school, had decided to go on a one-week trip to Iceland, something like a second honeymoon. Alice’s dad, Mr. Preston, was away for the whole week overseeing a company merger, whatever that exactly meant. Lucy, her stepmom, only tended to show up for dinner, and so Alice and I were enjoying having free run of the house.
It was already ten in the morning, but we were still in our night clothes, seeing that there was nobody there to nag us about it. I had curled up on the couch while Alice had taken up residence in her favorite plush chair.
"...that Becky-Anne is a lesbian!" My mind had drifted to god knows where, but her voice pulled me back into the present.
"Sorry. I was zoning out. What did you just say?" I sat upright.
She made an exasperated gesture. "I don’t know why I’m talking to you, really. I could just as well tell it the wall. Well, here we go again. You know Robyn, she’s in maths with us?"
I nodded, recalling the lanky redhead with the slightly alternative clothes style.
"Well, Celia caught them in the locker room way after phys ed, and you won’t believe what she saw!"
Alice’s body moved a lot when she spoke, which made the neon green object of envy appear to jiggle between her legs.
I felt my cheeks redden and swallowed. "What did she see?"
She bent forward, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper. "She thought she heard someone crying, but when she peeked into the dressing room, Becky-Anne was licking Robyn’s snatch! Can you believe that? It’s what Celia said, that Robyn was sitting on one of the benches completely starkers and Becky-Anne was kneeling in front of her, her head between her thighs, and bobbing up and down while Robyn was moaning."
"Eww." I made a face. "That’s gross!"
She looked at me with a calculating gaze. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean?" Something in her grin was a bit off.
"Perhaps you’re a bit of a lesbian yourself. You’ve been staring between my legs all morning."
My heart started to beat faster. I sent back a slightly overenthusiastic laugh. "That’s a good one. But what happened then?"
Alice’s eyes narrowed, which was never a good sign. When she slowly stood from the chair, with that feline elegance that doing yoga with her stepmom had given her, I knew that trouble was brewing on the horizon. She stepped around the coffee table and in front of me, and my heart almost stopped when put one foot onto the armrest of the couch and pulled up the hem of her nightie.
I really tried to look at her face. But now these pretty, green panties were just two feet from my eyes, bright and neon colored and looking incredibly soft.
My cheeks started to burn when I could finally muster the self-control to look up.
"You did it again." She regarded me quizzically. "I think you are a lesbian."
"Stop it!" I croaked. "I’m - I’m not a lesbian. That’s not funny!"
"You’ve been staring at my crotch all day. Why would you do that if you’re not a dyke?"
But instead of relenting, she had to tease me some more, and when her fingers stroked over her crotch and her pink nails contrasted so nicely with the green and orange, I felt a small shudder race through my body and my breath hitched.
She giggled. "You are a lesbian. I knew it!" She moved even closer, and I could hear the rush of my blood in my ears. "You want to touch it, don’t you?"
"Yes!" The moaned syllable left my lips before I could think about them. "No! I mean, it’s not what you think!"
I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me. Sadly, that did not occur.
Instead, Alice climbed onto the couch and put her knees right and left of my legs. I felt like a cornered animal and started to tremble. We had been best friends for ages, but something was shifting in our dynamics. Sex, besides the usually joking, had never been much of a topic of discussions between us. But now, with her accusing me to be a lesbian and my naughty secret on the line, she made me want to squirm and hide.
"What is it then?" She knew she had me trapped.
I stared at her face, frightened out of my mind and biting my lip so hard it hurt.
Her answering look was both questioning and filled with something deeper that I couldn’t grasp.
What could I do? Let myself be considered a lesbian, a dyke, by my best friend? Or confess my real object of my captivation.
"It’s," my voice shook and I had to look away, "it’s the panties. They are so pretty and soft." There it was.
She threw back her head and laughed. "My panties? You think you can tell me that you’ve been ogling me like that because you like my panties? Oh, come on!"
"It’s the truth!" I wanted to cross my arms in front of me and pout, but I would inevitably touch her by doing so. I wondered how that was somehow important. We used to touch each other all the time, cuddling in front of the telly and wrestling around for fun. "You’ve got to believe me!"
"Really? I have to?" She studied me intensely. "Let me run a small test. I’ll be right back."
I wanted to let out a sigh of relief when she jumped from the couch and crossed the room towards her dresser, but something told me she wasn’t done. My heart started to thump again when she opened the middle drawer, and before I knew it, she was back, one arm behind her back and a devious little smirk on her lips.
"Let’s put the theory to the test," she declared, mimicking the favorite phrase of our physics teacher. "Look closely!"
She brought her hand in front of her with agonizing slowness, but when I saw the object it held, all my thoughts flew out the window. What I encountered were pale pink panties so delicious that my skin started to tingle from just looking at them. At first I thought the crotch area was made of incredibly supple leather, but at second glance I realized it was artfully woven fabric, shimmering in the light. The black cat’s paw print on the crotch was the epitome of cuteness, and the thin waistband in a darker pink with the tiny bows at the sides almost made me drool.
"God. They’re so cute!" My hand shot out, but I hesitated at the last minute. "Can I?" My voice was almost a whine and my fingers trembled.
"Go on," Alice urged, "touch it."
I did. My fingertips stroked lovingly over the material and I gasped. Goosebumps rose on my skin when they encountered the softest, smoothest panties I had ever touched, and an incredible warmth spread in my tummy. I traced them along the seams and felt for the non-existent bumps of stitching. This wasn’t clothing, this was art!
"Oh my god!" Alice’s voice broke through my entranced state, but I kept fingering the fabric. "You’re really that much into panties, aren’t you?"
I nodded, afraid that my voice would fail me and filled with trepidation about her reaction to that discovery.
She crouched down. Her head was level with mine, but she didn’t move her hand away, so I kept on stroking.
"Do you want to have them?"
"Have them?" My head shot up. "I mean - could I - really?" My breath started to fly at the thought of owning them, of feeling this creation of wonder against my very skin.
"Not for free, but I might let you have them."
"Alice." My heart plummeted, and I almost sobbed. "You know I don’t have money, I…"
"Silly you. I wasn’t talking about money."
"But - then what..." I began to feel dizzy, my emotions tumbling over each other.
"I was thinking," she looked deeply into my eyes, "that you could make up for it if you model them for me for the next hour."
"Yes. I want to see how they look on you. Just a little posing, you know. I tell you how to stand and move."
Her request was strange. I wondered what she would get out of that. But then my eyes fell on the pink fabric in her hand again. I’d model them all day long for her, I realized, if I could only have them. "Okay."
I froze, my hand resting on the panties.
"Go on," she urged, "take them and put them on."
The warm wave of joy that washed through my body when I picked up the panties was indescribable. "Mine." For a tiny, depraved, hilarious moment I felt like Sméagol from the Lord of the Rings, but I reigned in my giddy joy in time before I could whisper, "my precious!"
We both stood up, but when I started to head towards the bathroom, Alice’s hand on my arm stopped me.
"Where are you going?"
"Uhm, changing into the panties?" I yearned to feel the fabric on me, and I think I sounded impatient.
"Change here. I want to watch."
"But - but I’ll be naked down there!"
"Oh come on, we’re both girls. And pulling them on is a big part of their aesthetics." She looked long and hard at me. "Or are you a lesbian? Does it bother you to be naked for that reason?"
I quickly shook my head. Sometimes I hated how easy it was for her to steer me into the direction she wanted. But she was also a brilliant friend, always there when I needed to let off steam, always able to pull me out of the holes I fell into.
I started to pull down my own panties, embarrassing plain white cotton briefs off the shelf in the supermarket, but her hand stopped me again.
"I’ll not be able to see much while you’re wearing your nightie."
I blushed, but it made sense. My fingers gripped the hem, and before I could think too much about what I was doing, I pulled it over my head and threw it onto the couch. We had closed shower cubicles with their own dressing alcoves at school, so we had never seen each other completely naked.
"You’ve got pretty little tits."
My skin prickled from the blush that spread over my chest. "Thank you." My voice was quiet. "Put some emphasis on ‘little’, please. They aren’t even half of yours."
"Balderdash! They are cute." She sat down on the couch and nodded encouragingly. "Go on!"
I had never pulled down my panties in front of another girl, and I had never felt more self-conscious that I was feeling now. I pushed the cotton briefs down my too-wide thighs and felt Alice’s eyes burn my skin in their wake. Being nervous like hell didn’t help at all, and so I stumbled and hopped around awkwardly until I could get them over my feet, blushing even more than I had already been when her chuckle filtered through the rush in my ears.
"You don’t need to hurry."
But I did. I was standing in front of her in my birthday suit and my skin was burning up.
Still, I took my time now, careful not to stretch the marvelous pink panties too much, but my hands shook by the time I slid them up my legs. The moment when the crotch came to rest on my pubes was a revelation. I think I moaned, but I’m not sure. This was the softest, silkiest, most caressing feeling my pussy had ever encountered. The waistband fit snugly around my hips, and the strip of fabric at the back touched my bum cheeks softly. I was in heaven.
"Do you like them?" Her question was mostly rhetorical though.
"Gosh, they are wonderful!" I twirled on the spot, all thoughts of nudity forgotten for a short, blissful moment.
It made her giggle. "Turn around and bend over. I’ve never seen myself from behind in those."
A bit of a playful mood gripped me, and I complied with her request, resting my hands on my knees and sticking out my backside at her. I wiggled it a few times for good measure.
"They fit like a glove," she praised me, renewing the blush I was still wearing, "like they were made for you. But - is that…" Her voice trailed off.
I stayed in position though. Something about posing that way, even if it was for a girl, and my best friend at that, felt incredibly naughty.
"Turn back around."
I did, a bit unsure what I should do with my arms. They somehow felt superfluous, dangling at my sides with no real purpose.
"Pull the panties down a hand’s breadth!"
My one-worded protest drew another hard stare, a duel of wills that I quickly lost. I’m not sure why I followed that order, by I pushed down the waistband until it rested just below my pussy. It felt like the heat in the room had been turned up full power.
She bent forward. My breathing stopped. My heartbeat started to race.
"Just as I thought. You’re wet. These panties are enough to get you horny!"
"I," I started to speak, but there was no denying her observation. So I hung my head. "I can’t help it."
"Or, perhaps, you are a lesbian."
"I’m not!" I protested with feeling.
There was a devilish smirk spread over her lips that didn’t bode well. "Then touching yourself in front of another girl shouldn’t do anything to you, right? Come on, prove that you aren’t a lezzie. Touch yourself down there, stroke your pussy."
"Alice! You can’t ask me to do that!" There was fresh panic in my voice, but I also felt a little - thrill? I wasn’t sure what was happening to me.
"You keep saying you aren’t a lesbian. Now is the chance to prove that. And it’s part of the posing anyway, I just want to see how they look when you diddle yourself. It contrasts so nicely with your golden bush."
I think I lost her at diddle. I couldn’t stay focused on her words. A strange kind of excitement gripped me, and I made the mistake to look into her eyes. They locked immediately, and my hand trailed down the front of my body and started to rub over my aroused nether lips. My fingers were wet after the first touch, and they left a burning trail.
"You sure it doesn’t bother you? Go on, don’t stop!"
"Alice! This isn’t right!"
She wasn’t fazed by my plea. My hand was already stroking my pubes again, anyway. The touches felt a lot more electric than when I caressed myself under the bed sheets before falling asleep, and they left tiny sparkles of delight on my skin. Then the tip of my middle finger brushed over my clitty. My knees almost buckled under the onslaught of arousal that crashed over me.
"Yes, just like that," my best friend’s voice instructed, but I didn’t even see her lips move, too captured by her stare.
I rubbed the moist fingertip over it again, and I got back the same reaction, lust and heat exploding between my legs. I started to massage the swollen knob of pleasure and couldn’t hold back my moans anymore. My thighs started to tremble. I flicked it, rhythmically, and felt myself falling into a vortex of pleasure. My moans got faster and faster, my chest burned and my nipples tingled, something I had never experienced before. My fingernail accidentally scratched my clitty and the lust shot like a burning lance through my lower body. I crashed down onto my knees and came, shaking with every wave of pleasure that rolled over me, one hand clutched between my legs and pressing down on my engorged button.
My senses slowly recovered. I was slumped on the floor, my chin resting on the edge of the couch, right between Alice’s bare thighs, and I was staring right at the green temptation that had led to this crazy situation. I trembled with embarrassment.
"You’re not a lesbian?" Alice purred.
"I - no!" It was a weak rebuttal.
"So it didn’t turn you on to touch yourself in front of me? You could have fooled me!"
I bit my lip, but my eyes were glued to her crotch.
"What would you do to get those?" Her voice, barely above a whisper, brushed over me and made the small hairs my arms stand.
"I - I don’t know." But she trailed her finger over the crotch and stroked the stitching of the unicorn right as I said that, and my insides melted. "Anything!"
She giggled, a satisfied chime in the wind. Her bum lifted from the couch and the fabric slid down, exposing a fleshy pussy crowned by a neat, thin strip of brunette hair. The lips were puffy and a string of moisture clung to the panties. I hadn’t noticed it before, too taken up in my emotions, but the air was filled with the musky smell of arousal, and the intensity doubled. I started to feel light-headed.
She lifted her legs above my head and slipped off the panties, clutching them to her chest when she settled her legs back down and saw my greedy look.
"Afterwards," she whispered, and shuffled her bum closer to the edge.
I was frozen. Suddenly, her pussy was just an inch from my lips. I couldn’t do this, could I? This was icky. The idea of licking another girl’s pussy was gross. But why did I feel this strange, tumbling feeling in my heart as soon as I looked at her puffy labia and glimpsed the rosy flesh of her inner lips that peaked out slightly from their cover? Heat coated my face.
She slumped back and her hand touched the back of my head. "Kiss me," she ordered, her voice husky and trembling with need, "make love to my pussy!"
I kissed her. Her taste almost overwhelmed me, coated my lips and tongue with musky, sweet bitterness. Somehow, I liked that. I licked and kissed and nibbled, mimicking the ways in which I loved to touch myself.
She started to moan in short, gasping sounds of pleasure that rose in intensity every time my tongue brushed over her clit. I stuck my tongue inside her warm, slippery channel and was rewarded by a shudder and the arching of her back.
I flicked and suckled and nibbled and licked, her sounds of pleasure building themselves up in a crescendo of high-pitched moans.
She suddenly grew silent and I could feel her whole body tense. Then her thighs snapped together, captured my head between them, and her hand pushed my face into her pussy while she shook all over. Short moans, almost like sobs, announced her release. Fresh wetness covered my chin and trickled into my mouth.
It was almost a minute until she relaxed again and I could draw in a full breath.
"God," she moaned, "I never knew that having a lesbian friend could be so much fun!"
I really wanted to tell her I wasn’t lesbian, but I was getting doubtful myself. But something nagged at me.
"But, if you like having me," the words took some pushing to roll over my lips, "lick your pussy, doesn’t that make you a lesbian too?"
She threw back her head and laughed. "Heavens, no, I don’t lick pussy! That’s gross! You’re only a lesbian if you munch carpet!"
Any further discussion was made obsolete when she dangled the neon green bait in front of me. "Here’s your reward, my little lezzie."
The moment when my thumbs brushed over the crotch of the garment was magical. I forgot anything else. I couldn’t wait to try them on. Hell, I’d use the next opportunity to do so, and I didn’t even mind that the inside was coated with Alice’s juices.
* * * * *
"I’m heading over to Alice. Don’t wait up for me! I’ll be back early Sunday evening!" I was about to head out through the front door, my backpack slung over one shoulder and giddy with anticipation to earn my next precious pair of panties.
"Katrina!" Mum’s voice from behind me halted me. "You haven’t spent a single day of the weekends at home since we came back from Iceland. Don’t you think it’s becoming a bit much?"
I looked at her apprehensive face and felt guilty. Guilty about spending so much time away, and guilty about my - our - dirty little secret.
"I - you’re right, Mum." I didn’t need to fake anything to sound contrite. "I’ve already promised that I’d come over tonight, but I’ll make sure to spend the next few nights at home. I guess I’ve gotten used to it over the holidays."
"It’s okay," she smiled, and I could see the relief on her face, "I just feel like you’re slipping away. It’ll happen too soon anyway, once you’re off to college, and I want a few pieces of my daughter while she’s still here."
"I’m sorry," I told her, gave her a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, "I’ll make sure to spend more time at home. I promise."
"Good." She giggled and gave me a swat on the bum. "Off you go. Have fun, and don’t stay up too late!"
"I won’t! Bye Mum!"
* * * * *
"Hi Alice! I’ve been thinking, didn’t you have those sexy little red ones with that almost see... through... crotch…" My voice ground to a halt in shock.
The patio door at Alice’s house was always unlocked, so it had become the norm that I let myself in. I had gone straight up to her room, where I had heard some rustling of fabric when I approached the door, so I had started blabbering while I stepped inside. But, instead of Alice, I found her stepmom, Lucy, who was putting some undershirts into a drawer. She was wearing nothing but a red, kimono style bathing robe and matching flat sandals.
"Oh, it’s you, Katrina! Didn’t Alice tell you that she’ll be away with James on a fishing trip all weekend?"
My stomach dropped. She hadn’t told me a word. Did she just forget? Or was something else going on? Did her dad find out about us? My thoughts raced.
"But don’t worry." She had crossed the room and was standing right in front of me now. "Alice told me all about your little fetish."
"She…" My knees buckled, but I caught myself, although the room seemed to spin around me. "She told you?" Panic laced my voice.
"She told me about that panty fetish of yours, and the things you do for her, yes." Lucy confirmed again, a dangerous undertone in her voice.
Breathing became hard. "It’s not a fetish! I just adore pretty…"
She didn’t even listen to me, I could tell that from the look she gave me. Instead, she opened her bath robe and let it slip down her shoulders and arms, suddenly standing before me completely naked, and she giggled at my gasp. She had an incredible body, lean, well-tanned and toned from all the sports. Her breasts were perhaps at the upper end of b-cups, but firm and without blemishes.
My eyes travelled downwards on their own volition. I could hear her giggle when my breathing sped up at the sight of those artful white panties with the black Chinese dragon on the front. Its eyes were green and glittered in the light, and its tail wrapped all around the front and back.
"You - you want me to…" I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud, but I didn’t need to.
"Just imagine," she whispered seductively, "you could earn yourself twice as many panties. Wouldn’t that be great?"
I think I moaned. Yes, I definitely did.
I couldn’t refuse such an offer, and I got to know Lucy very intimately over the next year. And I got to know some of her friends from the fitness studio too. They owned the cutest, prettiest panties. Used to, that is. Now it is me with the incredible stash of finest fabrics in my bedroom, and I can spend hours trying them on and admiring myself in them in front of the mirror. I don’t have nearly enough time for that, though, as I’m always busy adding to my collection.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/lesbian/its-not-a-fetish.aspx">It's Not a Fetish</a>