A girlfriend’s tempting panties become the gateway to a whole new way of life for a kinky-minded man.

My domestic arrangement with Wendy was working out great. We were living together as boyfriend and girlfriend, and there had been no disasters. We got along well, and the sex was fantastic. Overall, I really couldn’t complain.

We shared all of the household chores, and that day it was my turn to do the laundry. I sorted our clothes before taking them out to the washer in the garage — our garage. Wendy liked her delicates done in the gentle cycle. I was happy to accommodate, especially considering how sexy she looked in her racy, frilly underthings.

As I pulled out the fourth or fifth pair of silky panties, I realized I had a major hard-on happening. Had I been fantasizing half-consciously about Wendy? No. Then what was the sudden turn-on about?

I held the black panties. They were sheer and trimmed with red lace. There was a little decorative bow at the front. Fuck, Wendy looked so hot when she wore them! In my mind I could see her in nothing but those undies, slinking toward me with a sultry smile on her face — tits bare and legs scissoring as she walked.

Wendy wouldn’t be home until after work later in the evening. I happened to have the day off, and I didn’t think I could wait until her return to get relief.

I undid my jeans and drew out my cock, which throbbed in my hand. On impulse I decided to strip, shucking off everything. Once I was naked, I felt my pulse quicken as lustful urges coursed through my body.

I closed my eyes, wrapped my fist around my meat and conjured up more erotic images of Wendy. I had a whole mental catalogue.

But I realized my arousal wasn’t entirely about her. I opened my eyes and picked up the black panties again. Did I want to jerk off on them? Hell, yes.

I didn’t figure it would do any harm. They were going in the wash anyway.

Yet that wasn’t quite right either. I tried to unpack the strange urges I was feeling. I rubbed the silken fabric between my fingers, sending a skittering thrill through me. I gazed at the black and red fabric, taking in the implacable femininity of the garment.

It was a provocative piece of cloth, meant to stimulate, to arouse naughty impulses. Wendy loved wearing this stuff. She always said it made her feel alluring, like she was an irresistible sexual being.

In that moment, for some reason, I deeply envied her that state of being. To be able to simply wear something and feel that way.

Well, why couldn’t I wear them?

The thought was powerful, exotic, alien and tantalizing, all at once. I was stunned that such a notion could occur to me, coming out of nowhere. Never before in my life had I considered doing such a thing.

My excitement redoubled. Pre-come oozed from my cockhead as desires potent and new took hold of me. In a kind of trance, I found myself stepping into my girlfriend’s panties and drawing them slowly up my legs.

The fabric whispered sensuously on my skin. I slid the panties up my thighs. They would never contain my hard

cock, but I pulled them up all the way. The band of red lace cut across my shaft about halfway up. The silk cradled my balls.

My breath came in short pants. I had to see. Had to see!

I turned toward the full-length mirror on the closet door and gasped out loud. My swollen cockhead nearly reached my belly button. My reflection was naked, but for the black lacy triangle. It was so sheer my cock and balls were visible.

This was a woman’s undergarment, but a man was wearing it. I was that man. The fact flipped some unknown switch in my skull. My whole body trembled. Excitement took me and shook me, and before I knew it I had my fist around my meat again.

I jerked once, twice, a half time more, and my come went flying. The hot splats hit the floor and the mirror, frosting the image of the man in the girly panties with spurts of jizz. I shouted as I came; my orgasm was incredibly powerful.

Afterward, I felt a confusing mix of guilt and elation. A part of me knew I had discovered something important about myself, but another part wanted to pretend it had never happened.

Bewildered, I did the laundry. When Wendy got home that evening, I said nothing about what had occurred in

her absence.

But I couldn’t shake the memory of the experience. The genie was out of the bottle, as it were. I felt the ghost-whispers of the silk on my skin. I imagined myself dressed in the lacy undies, and my cock twitched and twinged with excitement.

How could I resist doing it again?

I did fight it, but the impulses refused to leave me alone. I held out until the next laundry day. I actually volunteered to do the wash, even though it wasn’t my turn. When Wendy was gone, I started sorting through her delicate undergarments.

It was like being in a waking daze. I handled the silky bits of underwear like they were priceless parchments. I appreciated every frill and dainty stitch.

With my cock throbbing in my pants, I stripped. I choose a pair from Wendy’s collection, a pair that was white and snug. This time I took a long, rapturous look at myself in the mirror. I turned around and saw how the gauzy fabric cupped my ass.

God, I looked so fucking pretty!

So sexy!

The panties, of course, couldn’t contain my rampant cock. I left it standing up out of the lacy waistband. But instead of jerking off, I snatched up the sheer white bra that went with the undies. Before I could talk myself out of it, I’d put it on. I had unhooked this same bra often enough. Now I did up the little catch behind my own back.

I stood panting, gazing at my reflection. Even before I took my cock in hand to make myself come, I knew I would be doing more of this. I couldn’t help it. I was hooked on wearing my girlfriend’s lingerie.

In the weeks that followed, I played dress-up every chance I got. To my ensembles I added sheer stockings, which caressed my legs in ways that made my balls hum.

One afternoon, I made the bold leap and put on a garter belt. After I attached the garters to the matching stockings, I saw to my absolute delight that I looked like a whore!

By this stage any negativity I’d previously felt had vanished. I knew dressing in lingerie made me happy. It fulfilled something deep inside me. I was going to keep doing it.

But I realized I was going to have to tell Wendy. It wasn’t fair to keep this from the woman I lived with.

One evening as we streaming something on TV, I turned to her and blurted out: “Babe, I’ve been wearing your underwear, and I’ve been doing it because it excites the hell out of me.”

I braced myself, knowing her response could be anything. She’d be justified if she were upset with me.

Instead, she let out a long sigh of relief.

“Finally.” She grinned. “Come on, Joel. Don’t you think I’ve noticed how stretched out my lingerie has gotten lately. There was only one explanation. I’m so glad you told me.”

She kissed me, and that kiss suddenly turned serious. I also felt a huge wave of relief, and somehow it all came out as our tongues tangled and we started making out there on the couch. We groped each other, then our clothes went flying so we could get down to

real business.

Wendy, panting, put a stopping hand to my chest and said, “I want to see you dressed up.”

I froze a moment. Was I ready for that? But the idea had already seized me, and excitement shivered all through my being.

We went to the bedroom. Wendy picked out the items: red stockings, black garters and garter belt, lacy red and black panties, and a sheer red camisole.

Her eyes were as wide as saucers

as she beheld the finished product.

Lust like I’d never seen before shone on her face.

I started to try to speak, but I couldn’t find the words. So she found them for me.

“You just feel right dressed like this, don’t you? And you look so goddamn sexy. Get on this bed with me, and fuck my brains out!”

I proceeded to do just that. I climbed on her and slotted my achingly hard cock into her wet, waiting hole. Her pussy clasped me fiercely, and her arms locked around my neck. I pounded her, slamming home with every plunge.

When she came, she practically howled into my ear. Then I flipped her over and fucked her from behind as her dirty talk propelled me closer to my orgasm.

Wendy understood; she got the whole thing. When I finally shot my come deep into her, she jerked like someone being zapped with electricity.

Afterward, in our beatific afterglow, I asked, “Why are you so OK with this?”

She smirked and said, “You’re not the first guy I’ve known who liked my lingerie a little too much. I had a life before I met you, you know. There’s a whole scene out there, Joel, just waiting for you — if you’re interested.”

Oh, I was interested. I was very fucking interested.

Wendy apparently knew a whole slew of people who shared a variety of lifestyles. I was introduced to this circle socially with Wendy as my guide — and everyone immediately welcomed me. There were cross-dressers, as well as plenty of gay, bi and trans folk. Sometimes it was hard keeping track of who was who, gender-wise. But that was part of the fun for me.

The first time I went to a party dressed up, it was scary. I wasn’t just wearing the properly fitting lingerie Wendy had helped me acquire. I wore

a dress and makeup, and had also gotten myself a pair of high heels. Wendy had coached me in how to walk in them. I felt utterly alive and completely turned on.

I got so many compliments at that party I couldn’t remember them all. I

was amazed at how embracing these people were.

One person of indeterminate gender, who called themselves Kit, grinned at me and said in a sultry purr to Wendy, “Darling, you should take this scrumptious thing of yours to the club. That top prize is just waiting for you!”

The rest of the party was a whirl of fun and gaiety. When we got home later, I was elated. Naturally, Wendy and I screwed like crazed monkeys — with me still wearing my lingerie, of course.

Afterward, I asked, “What club was Kit talking about?”

“It’s this completely wild sex party. Once a month people put on performances — whatever they might like — onstage. The dirtier the better.

The best show wins $500. Are you ready to be exposed like that?”

It was another of those ideas that simply seized me as my imagination roared to life. I thought of the many possibilities. But mainly I pictured myself, in my lovely whorish lingerie, standing up there in front of an audience. I shivered at the indecent idea.

I kissed the top of Wendy’s head as she nuzzled against me. Then I asked, “Would you perform with me?”

“I’d do anything with you.”

It didn’t take long for us to work out our sex-filled routine. Wendy and I had both done some theater in college and planned to incorporate plenty of dramatic flair in our performance.

Adding to the thrill, we’d both be out there with our parts exposed to a bunch of strangers. That was going to require some guts. But the idea was so exciting to me, and Wendy got swept up in my exhilaration.

The club was downtown, tucked in among old warehouses. You had to know someone to get in, and Wendy still knew several people involved in running the place.

Inside, I saw the big stage, with spotlights pouring down on it. A large audience watched and cheered. The place felt like a carnival or a cabaret.

Then I got a clear look at what was happening on the stage. A woman in dominatrix gear was alternately paddling the bare pink asses of two turned-on men as music pounded on the house system.

I was already dressed for our act, and so was Wendy, who immediately signed us up for the contest. We moved through the crowd, heading for the backstage area. Breathlessly I thought:Soon these people are going to be watching us, watching me in my silken underthings.

Gooseflesh sprang up everywhere on my body, and my cock was growing achingly hard.

As we waited in the wings, Wendy took my hand and whispered, “Knock ’em dead, slut. I love you.”

Her words warmed me. There were real feelings between her and me, as well as an incredible amount of understanding. I couldn’t have had a better girlfriend.

The previous act got a rousing cheer as they finished. The MC announced us, and anticipatory applause broke out. We waited through those final nervous seconds, then it was showtime.

We’d picked out some old-fashioned stripper music, with a lot of sassy brass horns. I went out first, slinking in my high heels and snug dress. Wendy came on and sat in a chair. She was dressed in exaggeratedly male apparel, with a fake mustache to boot.

I started dancing for her. I played it like it was a private striptease for a single client. Listening anxiously for the initial audience reaction, I hoped they would get it. I didn’t care about the prize money. I was unleashing my wild side — in public, no less.

After I’d gyrated and spun for Wendy for a bit, I reached for the zipper of my dress. As I undid it and shrugged the garment off my bare shoulders, the crowd started hooting. I shimmied it down to my hips and then clear to the floor, prompting catcalls to ring out from the audience.

Underneath the dress I wore my finest frilly undergarments: stockings, panties, garters, garter belt and camisole.

I was also sporting a blatantly obvious hard-on. I wasn’t exactly pretending to be a woman. More, I was presenting myself as a man fearlessly dressed like a sexy woman.

The cheers grew louder, and my cock grew bigger. When my swollen cockhead poked up out of the red panties, my fans went crazy.

Wendy meanwhile sat in her chair and ogled me. She began to rub herself through her pants, like a man rubbing his erect cock. I think that earned her some cheers, too.

My dancing got progressively wilder, and I threw every provocative move I knew at Wendy. She rubbed herself harder, and it wasn’t an act. I saw real excitement glittering in her eyes.

The music continued to play. At a certain cue, I tore the silk panties off myself. Impetuously, I tossed them into the crowd and saw people grabbing eagerly for them, which made me feel good.

My erect cock now bobbed before me, exposed to everyone in sight.

I moved toward Wendy. She leaned forward on the chair with a hungry look on her face. I presented my hard cock to her mouth, just beneath that phony mustache.

She swirled her tongue over my cockhead, and the whole big room seemed to gasp. Then she took more of me into her mouth, effortlessly swallowing me down to my balls, which were just as exposed as my cock.

I stood there in high heels, stockings and all the rest, and let my glorious girlfriend suck my dick in front of a sea of strangers. The pleasure was intense, and I had to hold back to keep from blowing my load down her throat immediately. We needed that money shot for our finale.

Finally, I stepped back. A string of spit connected my cockhead to Wendy’s wet lips for a few seconds. It shimmered in the multiple spotlights before breaking. I felt the heat of those lights. I also felt the pressing of so many eyes on my body. The feeling was thrilling, delicious and still a little frightening.

But I was so caught up in the moment. It was easily the most intensely erotic episode of my entire life.

I wouldn’t have thought I’d enjoy exhibitionism so much. Then again, just a relatively short time ago I’d had no idea about my fetish for women’s lingerie. I was so grateful I’d found that out about myself.

That person, there, on that stage

in frilly girly underwear, was my authentic self.

Wendy rose from the chair and unbuttoned her mannish pants. She shoved them down to her knees, turned around and knelt on the seat. She thrust that bare, beautiful ass out behind her, and cheers of appreciation commenced.

I moved in behind her. Her pussy gleamed with wetness. Nothing we were doing up there was fake. I felt sure the crowd understood that.

I set my cockhead to her slick pussy. For a timeless moment the world froze, hanging in a beautiful moment of anticipation. Then I slammed home, bottoming out as I jammed my cock to her innermost place. Raucous roars filled the venue, and people stomped the floor to show their approval.

It had been a struggle to begin slow. But I’d wanted this thing to build right, to give the folks their money’s worth. Taking a deep breath, I stroked into her at a steady rhythm. I buried myself all the way, every time, feeling her slick grip around my shaft.

I put on a little more speed, then more after that. I sank my fingers into the swells of her luscious ass. I pounded her rhythmically, and the audience started to clap in time to our movements.

Then an organized chant sounded from the crowd: “Come! Come! Come!”

I felt Wendy responding to the demand. She shuddered in her familiar manner, her orgasmic cry drowned out by the voices of others.

Then it was time for me. I pulled

out and gave my dick a couple of pumps with my hand. That set my cream flying as pleasure tore me up, down and sideways. Pearly ropes of spunk erupted from me and spewed across Wendy’s ass. The spotlights caught every spurt, and the crowd raised the roof.

So who won the 500 bucks that night? Take a guess.