There's a continuing story to the three pics of my co-worker's panties in the gallery.  Not sure how "continuing" it'll be, but for the moment at least I'm like a kid in a candy store.  More on that in a minute.

Stephanie and I work for the state, both of us investigators for a small regulatory agency.  Her situation:  In a relationship with a serious douchebag (no, not jealousy, I've met him and the guy is a complete dick.)  On again.  Off again. On again.  She's entirely out of his league in every possible sense.  Why does she stay with him? Damned if I know, but she had (I learned Wednesday) a blow-out with him on the phone on Tuesday night.  Short version, he thinks she's cheating on him.  Thing is, she hadn't, at least not before Wednesday.

My situation:  Married to a consumately cool woman.  My weakness?  I love pussy.  My wife (Julie) is actually pretty OK with "extracurricular" fun so long as it's discreet, not detracting from "family time," not risky, and not resulting in her geting short changed in bed. Did I mention that she's cool?  Catch is, she likes the occasional play-date with girls.  I'm cool with that, too.

None of the "cool wife" part should make me feel like less of a predator as regards Steph.  She and I have worked together for going on five years, but there's a larger age gap; she's six years younger, and MUCH more straight-laced.  But good Lord, a piece of ass.  Curves in all the right places, reddish-brown hair, fantastic  breasts, smart, wicked sense of humor;  the whole package.

Also, somewhat unsure of herself, shy at first meeting, not terribly outgoing. It was probably six months before she said more than two sentences at a time to me.  But since then, we evolved into an almost Big Brother / Little Sister pair.  Then, more recently, into what I thought was harmless flirting;  even more recently, harmless flirting with more than a little sexual tension thrown in.  THERE'S the "predator" part.  I know she's somewhat vulnerable because of the boyfriend issues and a few other things going on in her life. 

Fast forward to three weeks ago.  We've both been assigned to a pain-in-the-ass project which required us to be away from home as a team for two and a half weeks initially, with more trips likely through the summer.   The kind of project that pretty much confirms everything you've ever believed about government inefficiency and waste.  For this first series, we wound up "setting up camp" at a Residence Inn in a city somewhat central to a half-dozen sites we'd need to hold meetings at.  Coincidentally, we had rooms next to each other for the duration.

I sleep like a log.  At home, away from home, doesn't matter.  Steph, apparently not so much so.  On the occasions when I'd be up late watching TV, surfing porn, whatever, I'd sometimes hear her TV or radio, or hear her talking on the phone-- generally with the boyfriend, I'd assume--  sometimes to 2:00am or later.  Tough schedule for her, since we normally meet up a little before 8:00 to start for the day.

Monday night, I heard part of the "blow up" phone conversation from next door.  She rarely raises her voice, but this time she did.  "Asshole" figured prominently once or twice, followed by a little stomping around before she apparently settled in for the night.

At 1:00am, I woke up and went to bathroom.  When I came back to bed but before I could get back to sleep, I heard it.

Very faint... so faint I thought it was an "outside noise" and not from her bedroom (which shared a wall with mine) or maybe soft snoring from her side.

But not.  It was moaning.  As I listened, very distinct moaning.  

Holy fuck.  She's playing with herself.

I was instantly wide awake, and instantly as hard as a rock.  I'd previously joked with my wife that I'd already had Steph... it's just that Steph hadn't been in the room at the time.  This time, that was truer than Steph could've known.  I heard her come an instant before I shot my load, coating the headboard of my bed (side note: I recommend that you bring Lysol wipes to every hotel you visit.  You. Never. Know. What. Was. There. Before.)

I fell asleep within minutes.

The next morning, she rolled out to the lobby ten minutes late, looking every bit as hot as she usually does but this time in addition, flushed, like she'd been running.  "No," she said when I jokingly asked if she'd  been working out. "Just running late."

Meetings followed.  Bullshit meetings.  Interminable meetings.  At around 10:00 I had to run out to my car (we take turns driving... today, my turn) to bring in some relevant papers.  Almost offhand, she asks if I can bring her notebook in.  "It's in my briefcase, in the trunk."  No problem.

I stopped at the Starbucks in the lobby of the office building for three cups of coffee on the way... ordered, said I'd be back in a minute, and continued out to the car.

Briefcase in trunk.  Notebook in front pocket.  Notebook, check.  And.. Holy Fuck again.  Thong panties.  Extraordinarily sexy thong panties.

I went almost lightheaded.  I froze. Then I sat down in the car with the thong and the notebook. 

Weakness #2, right after pussy:  Pussy and lace.  Yeah, lace "does it" for me.

The crotch was barely damp, but still damp.  The odor was my favorite dish:  Very wet, very aroused pussy.

I was bright red, and almost shaking, I went back to the trunk... put the panties in the front pocket of her briefcase... and went back to the meeting.  Forgot the coffee on the way.  Handed her the notebook and sat down without a word.  She gave me probably the biggest "cat that ate the canary" sideways smile I've ever received from her, thanked me, and went right back into the conversation she was having.

And I was still as hard as a fucking rock.

 (To be continued...)