Sure, like most teenagers, I experimented and experienced the sexual side of life. There were alcohol and weed-fuelled nights of open group masturbation, and mutual masturbation with both girls and boys. By 17 years of age, the boys were long gone, and the focus strictly was on girls.
Fast forward 50 years. I was separated from my partner of 40 years, alone, upstairs, by myself. This was now my life.
A little over 2 years ago, my wife suddenly declared that she was leaving me and moving down the south coast. I was devastated. For the first time in over 45 years, I was alone. The first few months were awful. Coming home to an empty house, sitting alone in the lounge room, no conversation, eating dinner at an empty table and going to sleep lonely in a King size bed. Everything was the same as the day she left, I didn’t change anything in case she came back.
After 3 months, I decided to make a few changes. All her clothes in the wardrobe went into the closet of the spare room. All that was left was her drawer in the dressing table. I knew that there wouldn’t be much in it, as it was her underwear drawer. Sure enough, there were a couple of pairs of laddered pantyhose and some very well-worn daily panties. But underneath all of those was something she had overlooked in her haste to escape me. A black bra and panty set that she had always worn with a flowing black, wrap-around silk dress with a split to the hip and a deep cleavage. She adored these. I lifted the bra from the draw and held it to my nose. There was a faint scent of perfume. I did the same with the low on the hip panties, but they had obviously been washed. I loved seeing her in this pair as she was getting ready to don the dress that hinted at so much.
For some reason, I know not why, I decided to put on the panties and bra, maybe for the comfort of having her near to me. The feeling was exquisite. The bra looked ridiculous, as my ex had big breasts, E cups, but snug fit of the panties was the best feeling. The bra and other stuff went to the spare room but the panties, well they stayed on. For the next 2 weeks, I wore them to bed each night, washing them in the shower each morning so they’d be clean for the evening.
One afternoon, when I had no classes to teach, I was surfing T@#u, the Chinese shopping site, looking for a pair of motorcycle gloves and maybe some men’s undies. In the underwear section, a list of ‘styles’ came up, including men’s lingerie. Of course I looked. I couldn’t believe the styles and colours. I noticed a pair of fluro pink lacey boi shorts, and they just spoke to me. I ordered 2 pink and 2 blue forgetting completely about the gloves. The site prompted me to spend another twenty dollars to qualify for free shipping. That was easy. A light pink bra and panty set and a black lace thong for men made it up. I clicked pay and waited for them to arrive.
Ten days later, waiting on my doorstep was a plain grey postal bag. I eagerly ran upstairs into my bedroom and ripped open the package. Before me spilled on my bed were the most beautiful clothing items I had ever owned.
That night I forwent my ex’s panties and wore my own fluro pink panties to bed. They fit so well, they had a cupped section in the front to give me comfort and support. I didn’t want to take them off. As I was getting dressed for work the next morning I heard, in my head, the old saying, “Always wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident” and realised bright pink could be embarrassing if I came off my motorbike. I decided to wear my ex’s black ones instead. From that day on I have not worn ‘men’s underwear’ again. I have made many similar purchases since.
Fast forward 6 months. It was a Saturday morning. I wasn’t doing much, just a few odd jobs around the house, when I received a phone call. It was a mate of mine, Eric. He had been the best man at my wedding, but we had drifted apart over the years. He wanted my address to come and see me as he was in Sydney for the weekend. I gave him my address and he said he was an hour or so away. I looked forward to catching up with him.
Eric turned up an hour later, after a bro hug and slapping each other on the back, we settled into having a few drinks and covering the intervening years. Many hours and many drinks later, it was time to call it quits and head to bed. We had earlier established he wasn’t going to be fit to drive.
I picked up his bag and took it to the spare room, apologising that it wasn’t very tidy, and I quickly put stuff away.
He said that it wasn’t necessary to tidy up then he went very quiet. I asked if he was ok, and he said he was but had something to ask me. He sat down on the bed and looked at me directly in the eyes and asked if there was anything I wanted to tell him. For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything and remained silent. He quietly said that he knew. Knew what? I thought. We had drunk enough to be rambling, but he suddenly seemed very sober. He again said that he knew, that he had felt the strap of my bra across my back when he arrived and that when I had picked up his bag, my pink thong was exposed when I bent over. I burst into tears, aghast that I had been caught.
Eric stood and put his arms around me. Gently rubbing my back over the bra fastening. Eric is six foot two to my five foot seven, so I was sobbing into his chest. He gently guided me to the bed and sat down, pulling my head against his belly. He proceeded to tell me his secret. As a member of a well-known band that toured a lot in Southeast Asia, he had developed a fondness for ladyboys, so much so that he no longer looked for women or girls. He only looked for gurls. By this time, I had calmed down enough to tell him how I had come to wear lingerie and told him let’s talk tomorrow. As I started again to clear the bed, he said it wasn’t necessary, and we could share my king bed.
We went into my bedroom and I picked up a pair of shorts and started towards the ensuite to get changed. Eric, quite forcefully, said STOP. He went on to say that he wanted me to change in front of him. I was still feeling the shame of being found out, but the timbre of his voice had me rooted to the spot.
I lifted my T-shirt over my head, revealing my plain white bra. I slowly removed my shorts and was standing in front of fully exposed in my lingerie. I had always known that Eric was quite a bit more endowed than me, from our early teen masturbation sessions on the beach. I stared at the floor, embarrassed, and he told me to look at him.
As I lifted my gaze from the floor, my eyes fell upon his crotch. There was a huge bulge that twitched before my eyes, pulsing against the front of his shorts. His hands moved to his hips and slowly pushed down on his shorts. His cock sprung from his shorts like a cobra ready to strike. It was massive, at least 9 inches and not yet fully standing. Through the eye of his cock was threaded a stainless-steel ring that came out the underside of his massive rod. This was my first time seeing a Prince Albert piercing. He told me it gave his partners more pleasure, though I only thought of it as a beautiful piece of jewellery. He said there was no need to be ashamed as he thought that I looked beautiful and sexy, pointing at his erection as proof.
He asked if I normally wore shorts to bed and I replied no and that I usually wore just panties. He told me to get into bed wearing my usual panties. I removed my bra and slid between the sheets. He said he always slept naked and got in. I was still trembling from being found out and also the sight of his beautiful cock. He put his arm around me and drew my head to his chest. Comforting and soothing me without saying a word.
As I lay there in his embrace, my sole focus was on the gleaming ring, and the eye that it was piercing, staring back at me.
