Panties For Men

    Barbara was in her late 20’s and was the book keeper where I worked.   Barb invited all of us plus our families over to her house one Sunday afternoon for a backyard picnic.  I attended, although the rest of my family didn’t.  She had the picnic all catered, complete with a rented canopy to shade the crowd from the hot sun.   Barb always wore expensive clothes and lived in a gorgeous ranch style home with attached double garage in prestigious West Bloomington on a huge  lot.  She was a divorcee who lived by herself and drove a new red Cadillac convertible.  This raised some curiosity from others at our work place, such as: “I never knew we paid that well”.  One day our curiosity was finally satisfied.  Out of the blue (no pun intended) three Minneapolis cops came to the store.  They read Barb her rights, then handcuffed her and led her away.   It turned out that she had juggled the company’s books to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars, diverting the money to several of her personal checking accounts, then living her lavish life style off the embezzled money.  Barb’s little scheme came to light after an independent audit was done on the books, at the urging of the owner’s wife.   His wife became suspicious of Barb’s lavish life style after seeing the house and car and other things at Barb’s picnic.  Barb was tried and convicted and sentenced to prison. 

     Naturally I was sad when she left.   Right off, I should tell you that we were in love with each other.  In spite of our age difference (I was 18 at the time), we had strong feelings for each other.  At first I thought of our relationship as only platonic, but that all changed one day when she caught me looking up her skirt.   I was so happy after she caught me, since my life with her was so wonderful after that day   Once in a while she would taunt me while we were hugging and kissing.   She would say things like:  “Since you’re over 18 now, I can legally do whatever I want with you.    Now I can have all the fun I want with you and nobody can stop me.   You are my legal woman pleaser now”.  When I was alone in the back room at work, she would sometimes sneak up behind me and blindfold me and say: “Guess who?” Then she would suck on my ears and lick my neck while covering it with her hot juicy kisses.  On other occasions, if I saw her coming she would say: “Can My Lover Boy come out and play?   You don’t need to bring any toys, because you are my toy”.  After she said that, she’d back me into a corner and start passionately kissing me.   Of course I never resisted any of her advances.   Show me a guy who doesn’t enjoy a woman’s advances, especially from a ‘hottie’ like Barb, and I’ll show you an Eskimo in Cuba or a palm tree at the North Pole.

    She totally had me “down on my hands and knees”, sometimes figuratively and sometimes literally.  Whenever she would remove my glasses, I knew that she wanted to go “hot and heavy”.   I accommodated her every wish with reckless abandon, giving no thought to where our actions might lead.  Now some folks at work said that Barb was a sexual predator.   I would have to agree with them, but I also must add that she was a predator in a ‘good way’, since she always made me feel so wonderful.  Make no mistake about it, she was the predator and I was the prey, and I loved every minute of it.  

   I said before that Barb wore expensive or fancy clothing.   Her lingerie was sexier than any that my other girlfriends wore.   She was O.K. with me having other girlfriends, because she knew that she was hotter than any of them.  Occasionally she would lift her skirts to show me something new that she bought.  Other times she lifted her skirts because she knew how much I enjoyed it.  I also went lingerie shopping with her a few times and bought some sexy little treasures for us to enjoy together.

   I recall a few times when she had me over to her place for supper, which would then turn into a sleep-over.  After supper we would help each other “get ready for bed”.  She did that by covering my face with her dirty panties, so I could smell and taste the dried “woman juice” brought back to life by my saliva.  After that she’d climb on top of me and have her way with me.  On the occasion of one of our sleep-overs, I remember telling my parents the next day that my car wouldn’t start and it was too late at night to call them or a service garage.  Yeah, right.  I can’t recall what excuses I gave them for the other sleep-overs.                                           

     I recall a few times when I left for work much earlier than usual.  I told my parents I needed to run some errands before work and would catch breakfast ‘on the run’.  Once in my car, I’d drive to Barb’s house.  The first thing we did was have breakfast together.  I was in my street clothes, but she was still in her sexy little baby doll PJs.  I’d help her get dressed by kissing and licking my way up her hot sexy legs as I was sliding her nylons up her legs and hooking them to her garters.  After that she’d trap my face between her legs so I could push her panty gusset to one side with my tongue and then get my tongue in her for my morning helping of her “woman juice”, which I swallowed eagerly.  She told me that her juice was to take the place of the orange juice that she didn’t give me for breakfast.   Of course I then filled my own panties with cum, so she’d “lend” me a spare pair of her dirty panties which I had picked from her laundry bag, after rubbing my face in and sniffing all her dirty panties and cumming again in my hands.  Eventually we’d go to work, driving separately and arriving at slightly different times to keep things discreet.   It was hard to concentrate on work on days following our ‘special’ mornings.

   A couple of weeks before she was arrested, we had started talking about me moving in with her. The whole idea started quite by accident as a result of a comment made earlier by my dad.  Dad was concerned about me spending so much time at her place, so he said (in jest): “Since you are spending so much time over there, why don’t you just move in with her?”  He only meant it to be funny and I certainly took it that way, so we both had a good laugh.  The next time I saw Barb I told her about Dad’s comment, only so she could have a good laugh too, as I wasn’t at all serious about the idea of moving in with her and she had never mentioned it before.  After our mutual laughter subsided, the conversation turned serious.  She thought my moving in was a brilliant idea.  She said that if I moved in I wouldn’t need to deceive my parents anymore concerning my comings and goings.  She didn’t need to do much convincing.  Moving in with her would save on gas, wouldn’t it?  A little ‘guy humor’ there.  Like I was concerned about saving gas when my boss bought all my gas for me!   So how does a teen-age boy tell his parents that he wants to move in with an older woman-friend, so he can be her sex toy?  To solve that dilemma we decided to tell my parents of our decision, confronting them together as a couple.  We were waiting for that ‘perfect time’, but Barb was arrested before that time ever came. 

     The other female employees (no males however) would red-flag Barb’s actions by saying she was ‘hitting’ on me.  Not satisfied with their red-flagging, the women would take me aside, and tell me privately that Barb was a slut or a whore or other names I don’t want to mention.  That sort of talk did not go well for those women, since I told them I thought all of their gossip and name-calling was just a big pack of lies.  Whenever they would call Barb one of those bad names in my presence, I would come back at them by saying: “It takes one to know one!”  My response would shut them down Q-LAB, which is an acronym for “Quick Like A Bunny”.  A few days of peace would follow while those women re-grouped for their next assault on Barb’s and my relationship.  They would switch their tactics by putting the onus on me.  They did that by asking me ‘loaded’ questions like: “Why do you let her act so slutty around you?” and similar questions.  That did not go well for those women either, since I would usually deflect their questions by saying things like:  “I’ll bet that you are a lousy lover, and a real loser.   You could never make any guy feel as good as Barb makes me feel, and you know it.   I’m sure you say those terrible things about Barb simply because you’re jealous of her”.  That final comeback shut down those busy-bodies for good.   Maybe I was a bit harsh, but you must understand that I don’t take lightly any character assassination attempts directed against someone I love.                                      

During the time between Barb’s arrest and her sentencing, I realized that I had fallen in love with her.  I suddenly realized how much I was going to miss her, but by then it was too late to do anything about it.  I wrote to her numerous times while she was in prison, telling her about my feelings toward her.  I told her again that I loved her.  I told her that I missed all of the advances she made toward me and all the teasing she did.  I also told her how sad I was that she wasn’t with me anymore.   I also asked her forgiveness for me not thanking her often enough for all the intimate things that we did together (usually started by her, since she was the dominant person in our relationship).   I told her that I wanted to visit her in prison.   She never wrote back to me.   Because of a friend of my wife’s and mine being in prison years later, I have since learned that prison authorities censor material that is sent to inmates.   Maybe Barb never got my letters.  I suspect that possibly the authorities read the letters and considered them too ‘steamy’ or too ‘graphic’, since I was extremely colorful describing my feelings toward her and my fantasies about certain things I wanted us to do during a possible prison visit, things beyond hugging and kissing and “up-skirt peek-a-boo.”  Perhaps that was why they wouldn’t let her have my letters or write back to me.  I can only guess, since I’ll never know for sure.