I was on an off-site business meeting with my team at work. About a dozen of us were away at a conference centre. After a couple of days of intense meetings we had a few hours of free time to unwind. The place had a good indoor pool and I decided to go for a swim. The pool was empty except for me and another guy, Marcus. We chatted and learned we’d both been competition swimmers for our colleges. We swam pacing each other for a while. But as we swam, I found my eyes were constantly drawn to him.
Marcus was about the same age as me, late thirties, with a very masculine face. His body was fit and slim, lightly tanned, with a smooth muscular hairless chest and legs. He was in the smallest brightly patterned speedo-style swim trunks I’d ever seen. They barely covered the bulge of his penis and balls, and weren’t much more than a thong strap at the back. There was something sensual about his moments as he walked along the poolside, and at times he almost seemed to be deliberately posing in ways that showed off his bulging speedos. I found I couldn’t keep my eyes off his firm buttocks swinging with his strides, that thong strap nestling in the valley between his ass cheeks, the thin bright patterned gusset between his legs, and of course the big bulge of his sex kit.
I couldn’t stop memories of my schooldays at an all-boys school coming back. I was a sex-mad eighteen, coming up to nineteen, year-old who desperately wanted girls. Girls were almost impossible to get, but I was surrounded by boys my own age equally desperate for any kind of sex. I remembered school swimming lessons. We were in school regulation dark blue speedos that showed a boy’s bulge and made it very obvious if he was erect, which most of us seemed to be most of the time. Memories came back of that unforgettable eighteenth year. I remembered sharing a swimming class changing cubicle with another boy, of stripping naked with him, both of our young penises hard-up erect, the inevitable cock play, mutual masturbation, and our semen splashes trickling down the cubicle wall.
I tried to fight the memories back. I reminded myself I’m a happily married man. But still my penis strained hard. A couple of times when I climbed out of the water my trunks clung to my stiff penis shaft showing its outline. Something within me irresistibly made sure I let Marcus see I was erect. I was in the water holding onto the side rail when Marcus squatted down above me. His legs were wide and between them the thin cloth bulge of his speedos showed the outline of his balls and penis in perfect detail, with wisps of his dark pubic hair peeping out at the sides. I saw his penis too was erect, with its big round head almost poking out above the top of his tiny trunks.
“Want to come back to my room for some beers and to watch some porn?” Marcus asked, smiling down at me.
I couldn’t resist. We wrapped the white towelling robes that came with our rooms around us and headed for Marcus’ room. He tossed off his robe almost the moment the door was closed behind us, leaving him just in his speedos.
“Mind if I take these off?” Marcus said, running his hands down the sides of his trunks. “They’re wet, cold and clammy.”
Without waiting for my reply he slipped his speedos down his thighs then let them drop so he was naked. His penis was semi-erect, bending up to its big round purple head from swinging balls and a neat ring of pubic hair just around its base. My eyes locked onto his penis as it swung sensuously and erotically with his movements, then onto his naked buttocks and the crack between them as he bent with his back to me to pick his speedos up and toss them aside.
When he next looked at me his eyes invited me to take off my trunks too. I was so conscious that I was rock-hard erect with the sheer eroticism of being with a naked man I’d felt so much sexual excitement over. My fully erect penis bounced out as I dropped my trunks and arched up in front of me, quivering stiffly. Marcus’ eyes instantly went down to it. I stood briefly facing him with my legs slightly spread, thrusting my hips forward. I wanted him to enjoy me and lust for me, but didn’t want it to look too obvious. My own seven-inch penis was shorter than Marcus’, but thicker, and my pubic hair was an untidy bush around my balls and cock.
But as I stood there naked I saw something that sent an erotic thrill like an electric shock through me. Over an upright chair were the clothes Marcus had stopped off for his swim. Among them was a pair of women’s panties, in light purple satin with a little white flower pattern and white embroidery. My heart pounded! I picked them up. "Do you wear these?” I asked him, running the thin, so soft cloth through my fingers.
I confess I’ve got a panty fetish. It started soon after I’d started masturbating. I discovered the contents of my mother’s lingerie drawer and laundry basket, the sexy underwear she wore for my father during the long sessions of giggling, squealing and grunting I could hear through my bedroom wall. Then at eighteen when I’d got together with other boys to masturbate I’d enjoyed the erotic pleasure of seeing other boys just in girly panties. Through married life I’d secretly borrowed my wife’s panties. I’d posed in front of our big wall mirror to admire the sight of them bulging over my erection. I’d masturbated in and over them, and sometimes secretly worn her sexy little panties at work.
“Can I put them on?” I asked. My voice must have shown my excitement.
“Be my guest,” Marcus replied.
A moment later I was savouring the deliciously light feel of thin soft satin taut over my buttocks and my straining penis. In the wall mirror I saw the panties bulge in a huge cone over the rounded apex of my lust- and erection-swollen penis head. Where my erection pushed them out, my pubic hair and balls showed at the sides. As I did a slow twirl to show off my panty-clad all but naked body to Marcus my penis slid out of the panties so my cock head and nearly half my straining shaft were poking out above the embroidered top hem. Then I saw what was on the bed and another shock hit me.
It was a glossy magazine. It was open at a big centrefold picture of a bearded man looking mid-forties. He was naked except for women’s red high heel shoes and was standing astride a big motorcycle. His hand was wrapped around his erect penis, his head was thrown back open-mouthed in the ecstatic climax of masturbation, and the camera had caught his spurting jet of semen arching over the motorcycle’s big red tank. I flicked through a couple of pages to see more pictures of naked men and men in sexy underwear, all in erotic poses I could hardly believe.
“Do you like seeing men like this?” I asked.
Before Marcus could reply I had turned the page to a picture of a man, naked but for sheer black seamed stockings, on all fours on a rug with his legs spread wide. The view was from behind, looking through his spread legs at his arse and at his hairy balls and huge penis hanging down between his thighs. He was looking over his shoulder at the camera. The hungry look in his eyes was enough to strain my penis up a couple of notches tighter.
Another memory flashed back. I was in a bedroom with a boy from my class at school. We’d both just turned nineteen in that last vacation between school and university. We were naked together ogling girly porn magazines. Just for fun we’d been copying the nude poses the girls in the pictures were doing, although being boys we couldn’t get our legs as wide as the girls were spreading theirs. The erotic excitement of exposing myself for my boy friend’s eyes and lustful hands that afternoon flooded back to me!
I slipped off the panties as slowly and sensuously as I could, like I’d done for my boy friend that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon. Then, naked, I got onto the bed on all fours with my knees wide like the guy in the picture. I looked at Marcus over my shoulder and fingered my cock, balls and arse, reaching so far under me that Marcus could see my fingertips playing in my bum crack.
Then it happened! Marcus’ hand was on my backside, fondling my buttocks, exploring my bum crack, reaching under me between my spread legs to brush my inner thigh tops, to finger my groins and my balls and of course the full length of my stiff penis shaft right up to my so sensitive cock head. I think I cried out with the sexual pleasure and strained my thighs as wide as I could for his exploring hand.
I’m married and get full sex two or three times a week. But my wife isn’t much interested, she never initiates, she never plays with my cock and she never asks for anything daring. We only do missionary. It's just a matter of me climbing on top of her for my five minutes of pleasure, filling her with my semen then rolling off her. In the two or three days I’d been at the conference centre I’d solo masturbated over porn and my wife’s panties. I’d edged and played, but deep down I wanted more. The explosion of sexual pleasure from Marcus’ hand between my legs was more delicious than anything I’d experienced in years.