Soft Hands

His breathing was heavy, heartbeat quickening, and hot beads of sweat discomforting as he crossed the bedroom floor. He had taken care to remove his work boots before climbing the stairs and stepping upon the cream-colored deep pile carpeting. He walked slowly and purposely, with eyes fixed upon the dressing table. He knew exactly which drawer to go to.

His hands trembled as he touched the handle. And before he pulled he turned to the doorway and with strained ears, listened. There was only silence, except for his heartbeat. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the drawer. An array of colors greeted him as he pulled out the drawer. Reds, purples, blacks, whites, yellows, and blues, all stirring his imagination. His quivering hand scooped up a large handful of her intimate apparel. He had never seen so many varieties of panties.

Her thongs were more prominent. He dropped his handful onto the dressing table and picked up each pair in turn. Held them up in the streaming sunlight; opened them out and let his imagination run wild. How could such a small piece of material adequately cover her delicious sex? he mused. He ran his fingers along the laced edges of some of them. Some he held up to the mirror and others he stretched their elastic waist band. But for each he also held them against his nostrils. There were no feminine smells or scents; they were all clean.

But he knew the difference. There was a laundry basket in the utilities room and sometimes he had the good fortune to slip inside unobserved and find a pair of unwashed panties. These did have smells and scents, not just of a woman; sometimes there were male scents. Ones worn after sexual intercourse. She had a lover and most likely more than just one.

With his mind in overdrive, his thoughts raced away from him. He had an erection, one that hurt, straining against the denim material of his jeans. With one hand holding a pair of panties tightly against his face, he lowered the other to his bulge. He squeezed as he adjusted. It was time to masturbate. There were more panties to touch; more to pick out and smell, more to imagine firmly cupping her sex, more camel-toe images to fill his head but he could not wait. His impatience got the better of him.

Scooping them up he placed them back into the drawer before pushing his hand to the back of it. He felt the white cotton against his fingers and drew them out. These were his favorite kind. Plain white, soft cotton against his cock. Images of another man removing the panties from her body as she raised her hips for him.

With her panties still in his hand he turned around and reached for the belt of his jeans. Suddenly he saw her standing in the doorway. His loud gasp brought a smile to her face. "Here let me help you," she said moving quickly to him. He stood there transfixed, unable to move as she quickly unbuckled his jeans, unzipped him, and reached inside his briefs. "So, is this what you get up to when I'm not around?"

"I-I-I-I," he stuttered.

She placed a finger against his lips. "Shhh, it's okay. I know all about it," she told him as she began pushing down his jeans and briefs.

He stood silently as she stripped him from the waist down before leading him to the bed. "Lie down," she told him in a soft, alluring voice. Moments later he was lying still and silently, watching her closely as she lay down beside him, clutching her white panties. She was not normally like this, peaceful and smiling. She was a typical redhead, fiery and emotional. He looked into her eyes waiting for her to erupt. It never came.

"So, you like my panties do you?"

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Clean and dirty!"

He looked away in disgrace. She knew. But her reaction was to hold his erection in her warm hand. "Been wondering whose cum has found its way into my panties, have you?"

He nodded as she folded her panties around his cock. "You're not the only man who likes this sort of thing."

His lips parted.

"Lots of men like to masturbate into a woman's panties," she affirmed softly. "But most prefer a woman's hand doing the work."

He gasped loudly. She's done this before, he thought. She's done this to another man!

"Who?" he said, croakily.

She smiled. "Best you don't know."

His mouth opened to speak again but she interrupted him. "Close your eyes and relax. And imagine my hand wrapped around another man's cock and slowly pumping his seed into my panties."

He groaned loudly.

"Warm panties straight from my body."

"Oh god…"

"Removed by him…"

His body jerked and his cock twitched in her hand. "That's it, let it come."

He cried out again. Her strokes quickened and his seed began to spurt. He moaned quietly.

A few minutes later she extracted them from around his flaccid cock and placed them in his hand. "Better take these down to the washing basket," she ordered him.

Meekly he climbed off the bed. He could not look her in the eye now, such was his disgrace.

"And dad," she said, "next time ask. I don't mind."

He turned sharply and looked at his eighteen-year-old stepdaughter. She knew more than she should at that age, he thought.

She moved off the bed, came to him and gave him a kiss. "Let me know when you feel the urge again. I'll be here for you," she told him. "And if you bring some condoms… well… you never know."

Hot sweats returned and his breathing became heavy again as he left her bedroom.