A Holiday Adventure

Last summer my wife Sandra and I went to the village where I'd used to go on holiday as a teenager. I wanted to show Sandra the pretty village and the beach, and I'd even booked into the same bed-and-breakfast where I'd always stayed in the past. And, to my surprise, when the landlady opened the door, I found that it was the same Mrs Amber who I remembered from all those years ago.

She didn't recognise me, but I definitely recognised her: she was still the same short, extroverted, smiling middle-aged lady with a penchant for wrap-around skirts. Her beaming face still welcomed everyone and she still bustled around her guests, packing and unpacking all their luggage for them.

Sandra and I spent the week at the bed-and-breakfast, spending our time either sunbathing in the garden or swimming on the beach. The bed-and-breakfast even had a small beach-hut with a fresh-water shower at the end of the garden, so we didn't even have to go back to the house after swimming. So at the end of a week, both my wife and I were more relaxed than ever. The only fly in the ointment was the ever-present figure of Mrs Amber who was always "looking in at our door" to see that we were happy. I told my wife wryly she had been just as inquisitive in the old days but it hadn't really seemed to matter then.

At the end of the week, though, I wanted to stay a couple more days but my wife had to go back so she decided she would take the train back to London and I would drive back later. After checking with Mrs Amber, I found that staying another couple of days would be fine as long as I didn't mind changing rooms. The builders were repainting our current room on Saturday morning, Mrs Amber told us.

I happily agreed and, after dropping Sandra at the station, I came back to change rooms. I had a quick shower then started to pack all my clothes into the suitcase. But when I'd emptied the wardrobe and chest of drawers, I noticed there was still one item of clothing on the bedside table.

Going over to take a closer look, I saw that they were a brand new pair of light yellow nylon panties with a darker, yellow lace trim around the waist and legs.

Where had they come from? Then I remembered: Sandra had been shopping yesterday and she must have bought herself some new panties, then left them on the bedside table yesterday.

I picked them up. Would anyone be able to see in from outside? Surely not . . . I listened again: outside, I could hear holidaymakers going down to the beach and somewhere downstairs, Mrs Amber was talking to someone.

I decided to check the panties for size. They were two sizes larger than my wife normally wore – perhaps that was why she had left them behind?

Looking more closely, I saw they were light yellow, stretch nylon full-briefs with a lace trim around the waist and legs. The front had two small lace inserts at the top.

I swallowed dryly. I still needed to get dressed after my shower, but under my bath-towel, I could feel my cock getting bigger. Sandra's new knickers belonged straight in our suitcase but . . . would she know if I tried them on?

I quickly pulled off my towel and pulled the yellow knickers all the way up. I closed my eyes and imagined my wife's hands on me, slowly playing with me inside her new briefs.

"Are you ready in there?" a voice interrupted. The door swung open and the landlady Mrs Amber stood right in front of me. "The builders are already downstairs" she said. She then stopped short.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I see you're still dressing." There was a short pause. "I'm sorry to intrude, dear" she corrected herself. "No need to hurry though. You're only half-dressed" she pointed out, somewhat unnecessarily.

She started to close the door behind her, telling a builder in the corridor outside that he'd have to wait just a moment longer, then she peeked around the corner into my room again. "Lovely underwear you've got on" she whispered, then vanished, pulling the door shut behind her.

I stood rooted to the spot, racked with embarressment. I'd been standing right in front of her and hadn't been able to stop the knickers bulging out at the front. Had she noticed they were panties, or did she think they were men's?

I quickly found my jeans and a shirt and pulled them on. I then hurriedly finished packing, took my suitcase over to the new room and rushed downstairs. I wanted to go straight to down the beach and spend the rest of the morning there. Perhaps she'd have forgetten the embarrassing encounter by the time I got back.

"Mrs Amber," I called out: "I've taken the key to the beach-hut. I'll be back after lunch." I heard a vague reply from down the corridor but didn't hang around to hear more. Ten minutes later I was in my swimming things and walking across the hot sand towards the sea.

Around lunch-time though, I'd had enough of swimming, so walked back to the beach-hut for a shower before driving back to London. But when I got out of the small shower in the beach hut, I remembered that the only underwear I had with me was my wife's Sandra's new panties.

I looked around the beach-hut. It was right at the end of the bed-and-breakfast's garden, facing onto the sand with just one small window set quite high in the wall. I would be completely hidden, and the both the front and back doors of the hut were shut too.

I forced myself to pick up my jeans to put them on without any underwear at all, but then I knew I wanted to try the panties on again. Would anyone know?

With the hot summer air thick around me and the sounds of holidaymakers outside, I picked up the lace-edged knickers and, glancing out of the window to check no-one could see, stepped into them. I then slowly pulled them up until the tip of my penis touched the gusset underneath me.

My cock started to grow as I kept hold of the knickers. I could feel the slit on top of my penis starting to make the underwear wet. Wasn't there a mirror in here somewhere, I wondered. I might tug myself off in front of it, even . . .

I pulled the yellow briefs right up, turned around, and – looked straight into the eyes of Mrs Amber again.

This there was no way to explain: I stood just wearing lace women's knickers in front of her.

"Mrs Amber, I do apologise," I stammered, "I didn't know, I thought, inside the hut . . ."

I pulled my knickers higher to at least try and control my erection. But when I saw Mrs Amber greedily staring at the briefs, my hardening member just thrust the nylon panties further out in front of me like a vast tent.

I retrieved my jeans from the floor and then, while she watched, pulled them on.

"But, my dear, it should be me who's apologising" Mrs Amber eventually replied. "I should never have come down to the hut." She paused. "But I couldn't resist" she admitted. "Do you mind very much?"

I looked down: the lace around the top of of my knickers was still showing over the top of my jeans. There was a long silence.

"But I can't keep embarrassing you like this," Mrs Amber eventually whispered, her voice hardly audible above the noise of the people on the beach outside. "Just look what I've done to you."

I tried to stop thinking about my penis and balls held inside a pair of women's panties. "And it's my fault entirely" Mrs Amber continued. I put my hands down to hide the bulge. "I shouldn't use the beach-hut until the guests have gone" she admitted. "And now I've seen you in your panties again."

She waited. "But I did want to see them again" she said. "Would you mind if . . . if I . . . do you . . ." She paused. "Can I look at them again?" she eventually whispered.

She stepped closer and tugged my jeans down to my hips.

We both looked down at the flimsy yellow panties. The briefs were pulled tight around my bottom and the outline of my cock and balls was clearly showing.

The landlady placed her fingers on the top of the bulge in front, then slipped her other hand inside my jeans.

Her hand cupped my balls. "Lovely" she whispered. Her other hand played with the slit on top of my penis. "These knickers are just wonderful."

"My husband won't wear them enough," she explained. "I want him to always wear panties, but he sometimes doesn't want to."

She took her hands off my underwear. "Can I pull your trousers down, dear?" she asked. She touched them, then slowly pulled them down to my ankles and I stepped out of the jeans.

She pulled my knickers up tight again. "You're just wearing lace panties" she whispered to me. "It makes me wet to see you in them." She knelt in front of me and I gasped as her fingers nudged into my backside. "These hold your cock and balls so nicely," she said admiringly. "I wish more men had lace panties."

"Was this the pair you were wearing this morning?" Mrs Amber purred. Outside the beach-hut, I could still hear holidaymakers on the hot sand. "They looked like panties you had on this morning" Mrs Amber pressed me. She nudged the panty material deeper between my cheeks. "Do you wear knickers a lot?" she pushed me.

I nodded, my mouth dry.

"I love men in knickers," she said. "I always look, just in case."

She placed a hand underneath me, then slipped her fingers inside and held my balls. "Lots of men men have briefs with them," she said. "Women's briefs, I mean. All stretchy." She glanced around. "Sometimes I watch while they put them on."

Her hand searched further in my briefs and a damp finger-tip found my secret entrance. "Look, it's gone quite thick now!" she said, grasping my hardening cock with her other hand. She stopped, then pressed a fingertip inside. "Does that feel nice inside you?" she asked.

I gasped and stood up straighter, but she wouldn't let me speak. "You don't mind if I touch you, do you?" she said. "I know I shouldn't," she went on, "But you've made it go so big. And I love cocks in knickers." Her tugging in front and probing behind were making my penis swell bigger again. I looked over at the window to see if anyone could look in. "You'll embarrass us" I tried to warn her, "I won't be able to stop", I gasped, "and – I'll . . ."

"I know –" Mrs Amber interrupted me. She looked over to the window too. "If we go back into the garden, we can go behind the hedge."

She guided me to the back of the beach-hut, then, whispering that I had to stay quiet, she led me into the garden. As she said, the hedge just hid us from everyone on the beach.

"I want to pull your knickers down" she admitted. "But perhaps you want to come in them first?" she asked kindly.

I saw an area of damp starting to seep through the nylon at the front. I was just wearing women's panties and there was nothing I could do to control the drips of pre-cum starting to leak out of my cock. "What a lovely compliment from a young man!" she reassured me. "My, that is hard!" she said, rubbing my cock through the briefs. "It quite makes me want to see it when it spurts!" she giggled.

I tried to stand up but she pushed me back, spreading my legs apart as if I was on an examination table. My cock was now rock hard and my balls were tight in my ball-sack beneath me. "We'll have to keep your knickers on" Mrs Amber gushed. She grasped my twitching penis with one hand, then put her other back inside my briefs, searching for my ball-sack. "We'll keep those panties on just in case anything happens!" she promised.

She kept firm hold on my equipment, and pulled me up and down in my underwear. "Do you always wear knickers?" she pressed. "Or just to come?" She now started to tug my cock more vigorously, but keeping it trapped in my panties.

"Nice lace knickers" she purred softly. She didn't give me time to reply. "I like to see men in knickers" she said. "Your yellow knickers there are just like a pair of mine" she whispered. "I used to make my husband wear them when we did it. I made him keep them on. I just pulled the panties to one side, got his cock out, then climbed on top so I came on top of him while he still wore my knickers."

She kept one hand on top of my underwear, moving my cock around while rolling my balls with her other hand. Then she stopped her massage and whispered – "Hold on!" and firmly slipped her middle finger inside my anus.

I groaned quietly in pleasure.

"Do you know what I'm wearing?" she continued. "Do you?" she asked softly, in case anyone near by heard. "They're panties, like you're wearing panties," she said. "But mine are black. Do you want to have a look at my black knickers?" she asked. "Before I make you come in yours?"

She pulled the slit of her wrap-around skirt open. The skirt fell away her and I saw the black lace underwear covering her vagina. "It's a g-string" she said. "Look," and she lifted herself up to show me the black lace disappearing up underneath her.

Her finger kept nudging in and out of my anus while she kept tugging on my cock at the front. "Keep looking at my panties" she told me. "We're both got knickers on" she said. "And your panties make me wet," she breathed heavily. "Can you come inside them? Can you come inside your panties?" she said, staring at my cock inside the lace knickers. "I want you to come in lace panties" she insisted, stroking the head of my penis and keeping a finger placed in my anus. "I'm, I'm –" I started to warn her, "My balls are hard –" but it was already too late, and with another groan, a flood of wet come started hosing out of my cock.

She kept yanking away and it kept pouring out into my knickers. "It's still coming, it's still coming" she beamed – "It's like a tap!" she said, yanking me, completely emptying my balls of all my come. "I don't think I can catch it all!" she squealed as the wet flood soaked into my yellow panties.

Then there was a long, long pause while we both looked down at my cock inside a pair of soaked briefs.

Mrs Amber sighed with delight. "You've made me very, very happy," she said.

We both waited while we caught our breath.

"Do you mind if I do myself too?" she eventually asked.

I didn't answer, so she just leant back in front of me and pulled the lace of her own underwear to one side.

"Can I take your knickers off?" she asked, pulling them down so that I was naked. She then took my underwear, placed it on top of her vagina and began to rub, rubbing faster and faster, probing, searching, going redder in the face and starting to breathe more heavily. "I can't stop" she said, looking straight into my eyes – "I think I'm going to come on your panties!" she apologised, then came with a long, subdued groan.

We both lay on the grass, catching our breath again.

Mrs Amber handed my yellow panties back to me, leaving her g-string still on display. "Just look at our knickers!" she exclaimed. "You've come inside yours" she said, "And mine are all wet too!" she laughed.

She eventually drew breath, then leant down and pulled her own knickers off too. She then took a swimsuit out of her bag.

"I wanted to go for a swim anyway," she said, "but I'm not sure what you can do" she apologised. "And it is all my fault after all . . . because I was spying on you. And it was me who your panties unwearable too . . ." She hesitated. "You won't be – angry, will you? You won't – tell anyone?"

She turned back to her bag. "I was hoping you wouldn't tell," she said quickly, "So if I give you something to show that I want to say sorry . . . perhaps you won't say anything?" she asked. "I brought these just in case," she admitted, "In case you were upset . . . If you were" she went on, "I could give you this new pair of underwear . . . Because I made you come in your last pair . . ."

She took the new pair out for me. "They're women's" she reassured me, "Just like my panties." They were electric-blue, full briefs, with lace at the sides. "They'll fit you," she reassured me. "They stretch at the side. I asked especially for stretch knickers at the shop."

She waited for a moment. "I like to buy knickers for men," she explained. "I also like to watch them come" she admitted.

"You could tell your wife you'd bought these panties down here," she suggested. "You wouldn't have to say that I'd given them to you."

I carefully stood up pulled on her knickers, trying to keep out of sight in case anyone walking past saw me. "They fit!" she exclaimed in delight. "But may I take one last quick peek inside?" Mrs Amber begged.

She pulled the light blue knickers down a touch, then held my penis and licked it clean. She placed my cock carefully back inside my knickers, and pulled the knickers up again.

"You know, it's been such a compliment!" Mrs Amber assured me. "You've been so kind to me. I don't know how to thank you." She left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but I rushed to reassure her: "Not at all, no offence taken at all," I replied quickly.

I dressed, then walked back to the bed-and-breakfast on my own. When I came down from my room to pay, Mrs Amber had got back from her swim and was back at the front desk. I paid, then thanked her again before starting the drive back to London.

"Could I . .?" she whispered. "Just one quick look?" I glanced around, but no-one else was in the reception area, so I pulled my jeans down for her to see.

Mrs Amber stared hard at the outline of my cock through the bright blue briefs, then touched my penis inside my knickers again. "Thank you!" she breathed. "Thank you so much! I was so worried I had offended you" she said. "But it's turned out to be quite a holiday adventure for us both, hasn't it?" she beamed.

I pulled up my trousers. "I couldn't agree more!" I replied. "I couldn't agree more. And perhaps I should come back next year too?" I said.

"That would be lovely," replied Mrs Amber as I walked to the car. " And I'll want to see your knickers then too" she called out, as I drove away, drained, wearing my panties, and happy!