Visiting David

David had been his best friend since they were kids. They did everything together: growing up, hanging out, going to games, sharing and enjoying cars, beer, and girls. They even went to the same college and stayed roommates. Now David had moved to the coast and seemed to be settling down; he had found a house and moved in with a girl. The fact that they got engaged made it likely the change would be permanent.

Jonathan had to accept the pair were finally growing apart, yet the bond was still close and he was determined to make the most of this visit and their time together. That his best friend's fiance was the hottest girl Jonathan had ever seen made it difficult, because despite himself, from the first time they met he was totally falling for her.

Samantha seemed so natural and relaxed. She was completely unaware of her own beauty, or if she was she didn't show it. She was quite short but in great shape, with wavy brown hair that she kept tied in a ponytail. Jonathan had a weakness for the curls at the back of the neck, and the wisps that escaped over her ears. She had dark brown eyes that seemed somehow larger than they really were; he was certain that she wore contacts, and this small insecurity made her simply adorable. She laughed and smiled easily, and was clearly devoted to David.

He would never do anything to intentionally hurt his friend, so there was no question of trying to break them up or making any kind of move on Samantha. He was pleased that David had found such a fantastic girl, but there could be no denying the jealousy he felt. This girl was perfect. She dressed well, and loved to wear skimpy tops that accentuated the curve of her modest breasts, and skirts that showed off her long legs. Her pert backside quivered when she walked on heels that she wore every day when she went out to work. She had a cute button nose, and dimples, and her mouth seemed always ready to pout, such that he longed to lean forward and kiss her whenever they spoke.

Samantha was quite a package, with a personality to match, all in all everything he could ever hope to find in a woman, but he would never get to know her intimately, he had to accept that. Yet here right now he had the next best thing. He stood in their bedroom, stark naked. Open in front of him was Samantha's underwear drawer.

Jonathan looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He felt guilty but excited. He knew the pleasure a fresh underwear drawer could bring to a dedicated panty fetishist like himself, and he ran his eye eagerly across the top drawer of the tall dresser he stood beside.

Everything was neatly laid out, and as he sifted the contents he was careful not to disturb anything too much. He felt as if he wanted to dive in and swim among the delicate luxurious garments. He had never seen such a collection of fine lingerie; almost everything was silky smooth nylon, satin, or actual silk, in black, white, cream, blue, and every pastel color, nothing cheap or garish. Samantha had impeccable taste in beautiful underwear, and David was a lucky, lucky man.

Jonathan picked out a black lace-trimmed bra and eagerly put it on, slipping his arms through the straps and expertly fastening the clasp behind his back. It was far from the first time he had worn one. He turned to the mirror to admire the effect. The bra was padded and underwired, giving the impression of gently swelling breasts, and he cupped his hands under, imagining Samantha's breasts pressed tightly there. He adjusted the straps a little due to his much bigger frame, noting the crease where he could readjust it later so that she would not suspect it had been tampered with. He turned and looked over his shoulder, checking the bra was straight across his back. Perfect.

Turning back to the drawer, he noticed immediately the range of garter belts that meant some of the balled hose at one side would surely be stockings. In fact it seemed she liked showing her fabulous legs, as there were two-dozen pairs in various shades, all pleasingly sheer. He pulled out several belts, from slender black lace to full body-hugging basques, thrilling at the sound of the garter hooks as they clicked together. He selected a wide satin belt with two garters on each side. The metal hooks rattled deliciously as he drew it round his waist and began to attach the hooks to the row of eyes behind. It was a little more difficult than the bra, and he breathed in to locate the tightest row. The belt held him firmly around his middle, and he felt the familiar knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach as he thrilled to the sensation. His hard-on stuck straight out like a pole.

He turned for some panties to restrain his rampant member. His eyes lit on a folded pair of black panties, shiny and soft. He pulled them from the drawer, hardly daring to breathe as they fell open in his hands. They were beautiful: smooth thick silk, trimmed lightly in lace with a full back and rouched edging, a pretty bow in front. Samantha must love wearing these. He brought them to his face and inhaled her heady perfume, and imagined what they might look like on her body. He stepped in, the weight of his erection slapping on his thigh, pulled them up tight between his legs and snapped the waistband over his now throbbing penis. He held it tight in one hand and ran the other over his ass, and fantasized it was Samantha's he was fondling through the silk of her panties.

He checked over the balled-up hose, finding pair after pair of uninspiring pantyhose, until he unrolled a pair of black stockings, wonderfully sheer. He cupped one over his hands, then put a foot up on a stool by her dressing table to slip his foot inside the toe. He slid the fabric over his foot, lining the seam up at the heel, then feeding it out slowly as he drew it up his leg. Samantha had very small feet, and though his were not big for a man, he knew he would stretch them out if he were not careful. He smoothed the stocking up to his thigh and attached the front garter. He leaned his leg over to fix the one at the side, catching sight of himself in the mirror, then turned to the other stocking. His fingers trembled when he felt the cool air on nylon as he smoothed the second one up to the top and fastened it. He looked at himself in the mirror again as he turned to the last garter at the back. He had to admit he had very good legs.

Lastly, he fingered lightly through a collection of nylon slips and half-slips. He found one in a lovely pale pink with thin straps, lacy cups, and a richly-trimmed slash to the thigh. He stepped in and glided it up over the stockings, the cool fabric rustling delightfully as he slid the thin straps up to his shoulders, and smoothed the slip over his body. It was tight on him and his cock was a rigid bulge pressing at the front.

He looked in the mirror and nearly fainted at the wonderful sight of his smooth, tanned chest peeking above the lacy slip, the black underwear showing through: the shaped padded bra, the shiny satin of the garter belt drawn tight around his waist, the fastenings running to the wide dark edging on the charcoal stockings, their seams running down his long shapely legs, and his cock straining against the panties.

He ran a hand over it, feeling the heat as he thumbed the head, pushing up to the side of its silky prison. He lifted the hem of the slip to rub his balls from beneath with the other hand, fingers sliding across the panties at the very place where Samantha's pussy would surely meet. He closed his eyes, lost in the fabulous indulgence.

Suddenly he heard the front door. They had returned early!

"Jonathan? You in?" called David.

There was no time to put everything back, he slid shut the drawer and scooted out of their bedroom, pulling off the slip straps and clawing the bra hooks behind his back. He called down the stairs as calmly as he could, "I'm up here, just getting a shower."

"Okay, you had lunch?"

"I'm fine," he replied, slipping into his own room, still wearing Samantha's underwear. "I'll be down in a minute."

His heart was pounding. He saw himself in his own mirror, and realized how ridiculous he looked. His hard-on had faded completely as he stepped out of the slip and snatched off the bra, and unclipped the garter belt, rolling off the stockings without bothering with the clasps. He peeled off the panties and tossed everything in the hamper in the corner of the room. He heard footsteps up the stairs, and grabbed a towel off the bed to wrap himself quickly.

Samantha was headed for her bedroom. He felt a flush - had he left anything out? What if she looked in her drawer and saw everything had been rearranged? Would she notice the missing underwear? He had been a fool, a stupid fool. Why did he do such a thing to risk the friendship he had with these decent people? What would his friend think of the betrayal of their trust? He could never face either of them. He made a promise with himself never to do this again if only they didn't notice this time. But it was so hard to resist.

"Jonathan, you there?"

Samantha was coming to his room. She must have seen her drawer and found out! His heart was in his mouth as she stuck her head round the door. She had changed into shorts and a loose top, and didn't seem perturbed by his near nakedness. He drew the towel round, a little self-consciously. What would she say?

"Sure you don't want lunch?"

He looked at her with guilt rising in him. She was so beautiful and innocent, how could he think of what he had done? What would she think if she knew?

"Thanks, maybe I will after all."

David appeared behind her. "Our lunch date cancelled so we thought we'd come back. I see you settled in, you find everything okay?"

Jonathan stammered, "Yes." If only David knew.

"I'm doing a wash," said Samantha. She held a basket of clothes. "You got anything in here?"

She moved towards the hamper.

"No!" be blurted, stumbling to his feet. "I mean, I have a few things but I'll sort them out later. Thanks."

"Okay," she smiled. "Come down when you're dressed."

She went downstairs. Jonathan's heart pounded.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," David said. "I'm sorry but we have to leave you alone again, I asked Sam to run me to the garage and pick up my car, right after lunch."

"That's fine," said Jonathan. "I'll find something to do."

So he had got away with it, this time. As soon as they were gone he would put the underwear back in their drawer, just as he found it, and never, ever, do that again.

He avoided meeting Samantha's eyes at the lunch table. He couldn't look at her and think of what he had done, wearing her private personal things, standing in her bedroom strapped into her bra, constricted by that satin garter belt, running his hands up his legs in her stockings, his cock confined in her panties. Her things. Her wonderful, wonderful things.

"Honey, could you take a look at the washer?" Samantha's voice snapped him back to the moment. "The switch has gone again."

"I'll get to it later."

"Is there something I could do?" suggested Jonathan, glad for the diversion.

"It's nothing, just the 'stat. I should change it but I never seem to get any free time around here."

"You're always busy doing something," grinned Samantha. Jonathan caught the look between them and felt the jealousy again.

"If you've got some tools," he offered, "I've got the rest of the day to myself, right?"

In the downstairs utility room, Samantha had sorted a heap of clothes into piles by the washer. Bed sheets and towels, David's work shirts, skirts, dresses, and blouses, coloreds and cottons. There didn't seem to be many of David's things, now he looked. Jonathan went straight to a basket that pretty obviously contained 'delicates'.

Bingo.

It was filled with Samantha's underthings. The washing machine had evidently been out for a while; inside were slips, nightdresses, bras, pantyhose, and lots and lots of panties. This was better, she would never notice the clothes in the basket had been rearranged. Heck, if he could fix the washer he could get them cleaned and folded. But first things first.

His hands trembled as he ran through the basket, luxuriating in the silky feel of the fabrics in there. He picked out a pair of pantyhose and ran them across his cheek. He didn't find wearing them too exciting, they seemed utilitarian, and of course left his cock out of easy reach, but he loved to see them on a woman's smooth contours over her panties, and he did like the touch. He inhaled Samantha's fragrance and sighed with pleasure and longing. He turned to the basket again.

A pair of white nylon panties sat crumpled on top. The gusset was exposed and showed a faint yellowish stain. This was almost imperceptible, Samantha kept herself clean and hygienic it was plain to see, yet his practiced eye knew the promise those panties could contain. He picked them up and stretched them over his fingers. Oh, yes, here was the spot her delicate pussy rubbed the panties, and he brought the crotch to his nose.

His head reeled, flooded with the faint but unmistakable odor of a woman's personal scent. A sweet, wonderful woman. He inhaled again and again, drawing from the fabric the last traces of her womanly smell. His cock had become rigid, as nature intended it should.

Jonathan stripped off his clothes and stood over the basket. David and Samantha would be gone for the rest of the day, he had time enough.

Firstly he slipped on the white nylon panties. They felt cool on his skin. He squeezed his cock from inside and touched a finger between his legs under his balls, pressed right to the spot where the pussy mark was. He felt wicked. He picked out a small nylon bra to go with the panties, and deftly adjusted it to fit. He loved the constriction around his chest, where he felt his heart beating. He saw himself in a small mirror over the sink and turned about, admiring his own body in Samantha's trim panties and bra.

As there were no stockings or a garter belt in evidence he decided to ring the changes, and pulled out the pantyhose he had fondled. He found oddly thrilling the impression of Samantha's tiny feet stretched at the end. He rubbed the toes between his fingers, as if he was giving her a sensual massage. He didn't need to worry about misshaping them, and rolled them up to place one foot in, then ran the leg up to his knee and started the other side. He rolled the pantyhose up his legs, feeding them past his thighs and tight to the crotch, smoothing each side up as much as he could, then huffling the top over his hips and high around his waist. He smoothed the nylon over his panties where his cock strained for attention. He would wait this time, and simply savor the sensation of wearing Samantha's dirty pretty things. He pulled out a long nightdress of dark blue satin, which he slid over his head and smoothed down. He now felt properly dressed for action.

He first had a job to do, and checked over the washer. The utility room tiles were cold under his nyloned feet, and he caught glimpses of himself in the mirror over the sink as he worked, his finely-muscled arms and broad chest straining from the silky nightdress. He knew David was not much of a practical guy, and had often teased him about it when they were growing up, but Jonathan had a natural way with machines and mechanics. This didn't seem such a big deal, in half an hour he had the problem fixed. As he worked, he thrilled to the touch of satin, rustling over his pantyhosed legs, cool in the light breeze of every movement, his breathing slightly constricted by the tight bra. His penis scarcely reduced throughout, though he tried to give it no thought. At last he was done, and put the first load in to wash. Now he had time to himself.

He rinsed his hands in the utility room sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was a bad, bad boy. And a bit of a slut. He needed satisfaction.

Jonathan rooted through the laundry basket. He knew what he wanted, and Samantha had quite a range of panties, mostly workaday cotton, which seemed hardly to have been worn. He hadn't noticed anything like that in her dresser. Like most young women these days she had a liking for thongs, but he never found them attractive. So uncomfortable, though he loved to run a finger over his college girlfriend's nylon triangle at the back when she gave him head, tracing it down between her cheeks and pressing lightly to her pink hole there, just as he was ready to come. He loved to hold the thin strip tight over her pussy when he licked her clit as well, but definitely not to wear. He liked a full cut, that he could feel on his skin, that would hold everything in place. Like the black panties he found in Samantha's bedroom drawer.

His fingers touched dampness at the bottom of the basket. Excitedly he drew out a pair of white nylon panties, almost literally soaking wet. Had Samantha been caught short and pissed herself wearing them? He held them to his nose and felt a dizzying rush. Wet through as they were, this was 100% pussy juice. He held the panties over his nose and inhaled deeply. Samantha's odor stunned him with its sweet pungent scent. His head reeled, heart pounding. The smell was just fantastic. What had David done to make her so wet? His body coursed with uncontrollable lust. He slipped the panties over his face, pulling them tight at the back of his head, stretching the smooth damp fabric over his face and across the throat, his nose pressed to the moist cotton gusset. His open mouth sucked the front panel, lapping the juices from her adorable panties. His hand scrabbled under the nightdress he was wearing, stretching the pantyhose down to his thighs before diving in to his panties to grasp his stiff cock. He pumped feverishly, rocking back and forth, eyes closed.

"Oh, Jesus, Samantha, oh yes!" He opened his mouth wide and sucked at the wet panties, rubbing them over his face and his nose until he was completely intoxicated.

He felt as if Samantha herself was sitting over his face, smothering him with the sweet musky fragrance of her adorable pussy, her pussy that only David would see, that David fucked every night, that Jonathan wanted to fuck, that he felt he was fucking now as he smelt her juices and flashed his hand back and forth on his cock, faster and faster, panting and sucking the wet fabric over his face until with a groan his knees buckled and he ejaculated, firing hot jets of cum up over the edge of the sink, splashing the tiles and the faucet. He trembled in ecstasy for what seemed an age, his head swimming, his body jerking in shudders, his gasping breath sucking the panties in and out over his mouth.

Utterly spent, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, one eye peeping out through the leg of Samantha's panties, and felt once again sudden guilt at his despicable actions.

He snatched the panties off his face and hung his head, still trembling with the force of that incredible orgasm. He couldn't look at himself as he tossed the panties into the basket, wearily drawing the nightdress over his head and unclasping the bra. He peeled off the panties and hose, feeling deeply ashamed, then ran the faucet to clean up the sink. What was wrong with him, he gave in to this weakness every time.

He passed the afternoon watching TV, and though the temptation soon came back, he firmly resolved not to go into the master bedroom, or root through his host's laundry again. He did a second wash but left aside the basket of delicates. He wished he had never found it.

Time dragged pretty slowly until he heard a car pull up in the drive. To his relief it was not Samantha but David. He somehow didn't think he could be alone with her without blurting out something, or wondering in agony whether she suspected his perverted acts with her underwear.