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And
so began what, until now, has been a lifetime of utter devotion to silky, soft
women’s synthetic fabric intimate apparel (nylon, satin, microfibre etc). I started my search for any gorgeous
underwear items I could find, be they panties, briefs, half or full slips, bras
etc, purely for the experience of wrapping those delicious garments around my
hard cock. I went looking for the
obvious places e.g. my mother’s underwear drawers, in laundry hampers or
washing baskets, the same at an aunt’s house or at a friend’s house.
In
early to mid-teens I spoke in confidence one day with my closest male friend of
the same age, James, being amazed when he revealed that he was doing the same,
with his mother’s underwear. He was an
only child with both parents working so, during school holidays, we’d find
ourselves alone all day at his house. By
chance we again raised the topic of female intimate attire one day and he asked
me if I wanted to explore his mother’s underwear drawer in the parent’s
bedroom. Oh yeah, wouldn’t I? I really wanted to see what another woman was
regularly wearing, at least a chance to feel them. We made our way into his parent’s bedroom
where it seemed so wrong to be in someone else’s private area, but intensely
exciting at the same time.
My heart was pounding as he opened the main drawer, my
attention transfixed to find she was a lady who wore mainly larger full briefs,
all in heavenly nylon, mainly white, or better described as opaque
silvery-white, with the same in another drawer holding her full and half-slips. By now there was definite movement in my
underpants as my swelling cock wanted to kiss every garment in those drawers. Unfortunately, her bras were quite average, not
silky, and I didn’t see any satin amongst her underwear. I asked if she had anything else hanging in
the wardrobes, maybe there were other slips there, but no, it was all held in
the drawers. We both lifted some full
briefs out of the drawer and they were a beautiful heavy, yet exquisitely soft nylon,
had obviously been laundered a thousand times in their lifetime (OK, slight
exaggeration) but to me were absolutely perfect.
I digress here to say I have always been a fellow who loves clean, fresh
underwear (definitely not dirty or soiled) but don’t mind an item that has been
worn, holds a woman’s natural aroma, maybe the fragrance of the perfume she
wears and even a slight hint of urine droplets.
James asked if I’d like to try some? Oh
boy, my heart was pounding, holding the treasure in my hands. He said to take two pair each and we’d go to
the lounge room. He was a careful young
man in his favourite pursuit, first checking the back door to make sure it was
locked, then moving the translucent curtains in the lounge room to ensure we
had a full (secret) view of the driveway and front path, so we could see
anybody arriving home unexpectedly.
When seated comfortably on the lounge he said he’d show me what he enjoyed and
that I must promise one golden rule, “When you’re enjoying my mother’s
underwear, do not cum in them!” It was
something of which he was always mindful as he didn’t want to be brought undone
by leaving obvious evidence of what he had been doing. The next thing, “Don’t
be bashful or shy of what we are going to be doing, you will enjoy yourself.”
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