A Neighborly GesturebyColinGraham©
I spun about in front of the full-length mirror, happily admiring my "new look." An entire week with my wife out of town, I mused happily. This morning's inspection of her lingerie drawers had yielded a treasure trove of dainty feminine items. Fortunately she's a big enough for me to get into her stuff without wrecking it -- if I'm careful. And with a whole week to play there was no need to rush.
At the moment I had on some kind of camisole or chemise thing, not sure what you'd call it, but it fit nicely around my chest and with those thin shoulder straps it felt very sexy. Of course I couldn't fill the bra cups, and the bottom hem barely covered my navel, but there wasn't much to be done for that. The material was exquisite; a lacy, apricot colored rayon that felt smooth and light against my skin. For panties I'd selected a pair of satin briefs that barely contained my cock and balls, but fit beautifully around my ass (which I've been told is quite nice). The color -- a pretty shade of lilac -- was in stark contrast to the apricot top. It somehow made me think of Easter.
I turned for a better view. My wife always complimented me on my ass; I wondered what she'd say if she could see how wonderful it looked when stuffed into her own panties. The mirror now revealed something a bit less feminine than my attire, and entirely too obvious. My erect cock was beginning to peek over the top of the lace waistband of the panties, a drop of pre-cum glistening wetly at the tip.
My hands, which had been dividing their time between the front of the camisole and my panty-clad ass, now slid down to take control of this development. I rubbed the shaft through the panty material until my mouth fell open and my eyelids began to flutter. A soft moan welled up from my throat and I very nearly succumbed to temptation right then, wanting nothing more than to lay down on the bed, wriggle about in my naughty underwear, and masturbate until my hand was full of hot sperm.
But since there was really no need to hurry, and I wanted to stretch the fun out longer, I reluctantly stopped stroking. It occurred to me that it would heighten my pleasure if I pranced around the house for awhile, clad only in the panties and slip. I could even pretend to be a sexy maid. I sashayed down the stairs, swaying my ass to and fro and rubbing my nipples through the slip. Yessiree, this was going to be a fun week.
I stopped short of doing any actual housework, and had just leaned back in the sofa and flipped to the Playboy channel when suddenly the doorbell rang. I muted the volume and peeked through the mini-blind slats. I was certainly not expecting visitors, and I fully intended to ignore any that came by. That plan changed as soon as I saw the trim and busty profile of our newest neighbor standing on the porch.
Thinking quickly, I slid open the hall closet and found my gym bag. Inside was a pair of sweatpants and short sleeve sweatshirt. Those will do, I thought, pulling them on over the lingerie. I had to reach in and pull the panties up snugly in order to keep my semi-erect cock from lolling outward, but the sweatshirt hung down far enough to hide both waistbands.
I opened the door. She smiled a warm greeting and held out her hand while giving me a quick once-over.
"I'm Vicki. You've probably seen me around before. I live a couple houses down from you?" Her voice had a strength and timbre that almost made me stand at attention, and while her hand was small, my own seemed strangely lost in its warm grip. "...And you're Dan?" she added, breaking the awkward silence.
"Uh, yeah," I mumbled, recovering slowly. "Dan Ashby. Pleased to meet you."
I found it hard to avert my gaze from her piercing green eyes, but the view below was even more distracting. She filled out her halter-top the way it really should be done—unlike many women who should have more sense than to even try. Her nipples stood out prominently, accenting the entire presentation quite nicely. I recalled seeing Vicki out working in her yard a few times and had been hoping for a casual opportunity to meet her. Unfortunately my wife had noticed me noticing her—it's something wives do—and had immediately made her wishes known: "Hands off!"
"Well Vicki," I said in a tone that implied I had other things to do, "what's up?"
"Well I hate too ask," she began (yeah right, I thought), "but no one else is around and I can't do it myself. It's this trellis that I just finished staining. It's a bit awkward and I need someone to help me hold it in place while I secure it."
I hesitated. I really had been looking forward to spend the morning running around the house in my wife's lingerie, watching naked girls on cablevision and masturbating until my cock was too sore to stroke anymore.
"Really it'll only take a minute," Vicki added quickly. "I just need you to hold it upright while I nail it to the eave." Her smile made me rethink my plans. I smiled. Hell, I had something she wouldn't have any trouble keeping upright...in fact right now it was growing at an alarming rate. I surreptitiously pulled the front of my sweatshirt a bit lower
"Okay, sure," I replied, "Right now?"
"If you wouldn't mind. I know it's an imposition..."
"No, no," I waved her apology off. "No problem. Just let me get something on my feet and I'll be right behind you."
I slipped on a pair of Teva sandals, smoothed my sweatshirt down over my chest and stomach (not too bad for a 46 year old guy), made certain my unorthodox underwear was well hidden, and followed Vicki's nicely sculpted backside as she cut her way back across the lawn .
Vicki lived just two doors away and on the same side of the street. We lived in a neighborhood of old craftsman bungalows that were all exceptionally well cared for. Hers was a little 2-bedroom charmer that had begun looking better the moment she moved in, a few months ago. I think my wife said she was an editor or something. And of course she also told me other stuff I didn't want to know, like the strange mix of female and male visitors that Vicki had, and how her ex-husband had left quite suddenly in the middle of the night.
Vicki paused at the front door and held the screen open for me. The sun flashed across her face, which was slightly flushed and gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Her magnificent breasts presented a pleasant obstacle, which I eased past rather clumsily, brushing an arm against one in the process. It was delightful. We both smiled.
"Thanks for coming over on such short notice Dan," Vicki said, as she led me toward the back of the house. Her voice was like liquid gold, soft, rich, and hard to ignore. I admired the tight musculature of her ass cheeks flexing seductively inside the lightweight bicycle shorts she wore. Not a hint of a panty line either—which meant she either wore a thong, or nothing at all underneath. As we reached the kitchen and the open back door, I wondered what she'd think if she knew what I was wearing under my sweats.
"It's right out here," Vicki said, interrupting my thoughts.
I followed her out the back door. Just off the small porch and against the house footing was a small area with freshly turned earth. Leaning against the house was a new wooden trellis, freshly stained judging from the sheen and the smell of paint thinner. She set the hammer down next to a small can of nails and then grabbed the trellis, pulling it upright until the top edge of a few stakes fit just under the house eave.
"See how this will hold it up?" Vicki beamed proudly. "All we have to do is nail a few of these stakes to the backside of the eave board. . ."
"Fascia," I corrected.
"Yes," the fascia. Her voice betrayed a hint of annoyance, but she was still smiling and holding the trellis. "Do you think you could get up there and hammer it in place while I hold it? There's a ladder right there."
I brought the stepladder over and set it up. There wasn't enough room between the trellis and the side of the house, so I set it in front, figuring I could reach through the latticework and get the nails hammered in. I put a few nails between my teeth and got up on the ladder, reaching and twisting to get into position.
As I was doing this, I felt my shirt ride up in the back. I glanced down to make sure that my panties were not exposed. This afforded me a spectacular view down the front of Vicki's halter-top. My jaw dropped at the same time as the hammer, which landed with a dull "thunk" in the flowerbed below us.
"Stay there, I'll get it," Vicki called cheerfully.
Moments later, I felt her weight on the ladder. She was right below me, holding the hammer. She clutched the left ladder rail with one arm as she reached upward with the other to hand me the hammer. This maneuver pressed one of her delicious breasts against my right buttock, and I flinched just a tiny bit. Vicki lost her footing and slid down a few inches. In the act of stopping her fall, she inadvertently pulled on the back of my sweatpants. They came down a little—not much—but probably enough to reveal the lacy waistband of my panties.
It took me a moment to put the hammer down and free up a hand so that I could readjust my waistband. Meanwhile Vicki had gotten down off the ladder and was gazing up at me with a curious expression. I felt my face flush, but decided the best thing to do was ignore it. Either she'd seen them or she hadn't; there was nothing I could do to change it now.
I finished nailing the trellis into place and climbed back down. We stood back to admire it. She explained the types of plants she was going to put in the flowerbed, and which of them she would train to grow up the trellis (flowering clematis, I believe she said). This innocent conversation reassured me that even if she had seen my panties, she was tactfully ignoring it.
"You sure have spruced this place up Vicki," I waved my arm around at the yard, house and flowerbeds.
"Why thank you Dan," she beamed. "It's a lot of work though. I'm ready for a break, and something to drink...Can I offer you anything? A beer?"
"Sure," I replied, "A beer sounds great."
Vicki slipped her sandals off at on the back porch. Mine were dirty from the garden, so I followed suit and padded in barefoot behind her. Vicki's kitchen was aired by a nice cross-breeze between the screen door and an open window, and the black and white checkered linoleum felt cool against my feet.
She put two beers down on the kitchen table, sat down, and gestured to another chair across from her. She asked how long I'd lived in our house, how long we'd been married, and whether we had kids. I tried not to pry too much myself but inevitably the subject of her own marriage came up.
"Eric left six weeks ago," Vicki said. She tried to sound nonchalant about it, but I could see it still upset her. "He was a real piece of work," she continued, her tone bitter now, "Thought he was too good for most people—including my friends."
"Mmm...that's tough," I said, in a not-too-convincing attempt at commiseration.
"No, actually it's a good thing," she replied with an almost wicked smile. "I'm set pretty well—I don't need his help. And now I have the freedom to be who I really want to be."
"And who would that be?" I smiled, turning on the charm—or so I thought.
"Why that's funny Dan, I was just going to ask you the same question." Vicki's eyes bored in on mine, freezing me like a deer caught in the headlights.
I wanted to say something witty like 'I asked you first' but her smile had suddenly disappeared. "Wh-what do you mean?" I finally stammered.
Vicki reached across and took my hands with a grip that was firm but at the same time gentle and reassuring. "You have a secret don't you?" Her voice was soft, warm and inviting. Her amazing green eyes bored into me like lasers.
"Oh. Uh, you mean the . . ."
"Yes Dan. Those panties you're wearing. I couldn't help but notice them when we were on the ladder." She batted her eyelashes and gave a coy little dip of her head toward me. "They look very cute on you."
"Well, uh .. I just..." I couldn't think. My head was spinning. Vicki cocked her head to one side, like a bird examining its prey. I avoided her eyes, and stared down at a small blemish on the table-top.
"Relax Dan," Vicki said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Really. Lot's of men try on their wife's underwear. Those are your wife's panties aren't they?"
"Well I think you have good taste," she said. "Would you mind showing me them again? We won't need the ladder this time." Her smile was infectious, and the humor helped to ease my embarrassment.
"Uh . . .I don't," I began, but Vicki was already out of her chair and standing next to me, one slender hand laid encouragingly on my shoulder.
"Okay, I guess so," I replied standing up, I fumbled nervously with the drawstring of my sweatpants and managed to get it knotted.
"Oh dear boy," Vicki said, bending down to assist. She quickly unsnarled the strings and then shocked me by sliding her thumbs inside the waistband. "Here you go," she said, and quite suddenly my pants were down around the middle of my thighs.
"Oh Dan, they look stunning on you! Turn around. Here, let's pull your sweats down a bit more so I can see the whole effect. Her fingernails grazed my skin lightly and I gave an involuntary shudder. "That's it. Let them drop—no one will see."
"Yes Ma'am," I murmured, as my pants fell into a heap around my ankles.
In a daze, I began following Vicki's instructions, turning this way and that, and holding my shirt up above my waist for her to get a better look. I should have felt embarrassed and humiliated but somehow all I wanted now was to please this gorgeous woman. She had taken control as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and I found myself not minding in the least. In fact I was enjoying it.
"Go ahead and step out of those pants," she said, taking one of my hands and laying her other hand lightly on my bottom to support me. "We wouldn't want you to trip and hurt yourself. That's it." She glanced down at my midsection. "Hmmm...This excites you doesn't it Dan?"
The signs were obvious. I was beet-red, my stomach felt all fluttery, and my heart was pounding like a race-car engine. Moreover, the blood rushing into my cock made it difficult to hide inside the panties. I reached down and tried to adjust the scant bit of material, but Vicki gently swatted my hands away.
"Silly boy! Mmmm. . .Yes you certainly do fill out a pair of panties." Vicki's voice had dropped an octave, and her left hand dropped down to rest in the vee of her shorts, her fingers curled underneath where I couldn't see them.
"Yes, that's very nice, boy," she coached, "Now turn around so I can see the back."
She had called me 'boy.' What was happening here? I turned to give her a view of my bottom, which was nicely contained in the stretchy material. The sweatshirt rode low enough to hide the small of my back. Once again feeling the urgent need to please her, I reached back and pulled it up.
"Yes," she said, encouraging me more, "That's very nice. But something is funny about the way that sweatshirt hangs. Why don't you just slip that off too?"
I had it halfway up when I realized she probably wasn't expecting to see the camisole. But it was too late to stop now. I wanted her to see it—to see everything. I desperately needed her approval. A moment later the sweatshirt lay on the floor next to my sweatpants.
"Oh my," Vicki exclaimed softly. Her lips were parted and her pupils seemed to have gotten even larger. I stole a quick glance down to where her hand lay between her thighs. Her fingers were moving noticeably. She caught me looking and once again fixed me with a stern gaze.
"That's quite a little secret you've been keeping. It is a secret isn't it? Does your wife know that you're wearing her panties and camisole? Those ARE your wife's things aren't they, boy?"
"Y-yes. . ." I stammered, looking down at the floor. "Yes ma'am. I took them from her drawer this morning."
"Don't look at the floor, boy," she said evenly, "Look at me." I looked up, feeling like a child about to be scolded. Vicki's tone grew sterner as she recounted my infractions. "You have taken some very personal things from your wife without her permission." She paused, waiting until it became obvious that I was supposed to respond.
"You have invaded her privacy."
"You have undoubtedly soiled some of those things," she said pointing to the spots of pre-cum that had formed in the front of my panties.
"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry."
"Dan, whether or not you are sorry is irrelevant right now. Don't you think your wife—Lisa isn't it?"
"Well don't you think Lisa would be furious if she knew about all of this?
"Yes ma'am," I replied, "I'm sure she would."
"But you really love her don't you boy?"
"Yes I believe you do," she said, examining me closely. "In fact I think you are so close to her that this little deceit of yours—this penchant for cross-dressing—is eventually going to be impossible to keep from her, don't you?" She raised her eyebrows.
Oh god, I thought, was she going to tell Lisa? How would I be able to face her? What would she do? "Are you going to tell her?" I asked.
Vicki smiled and shook her head. "No dear child, I'm not going to say anything to her. In fact I hardly even know your wife." She winked conspiratorially and added, "I get the impression she thinks I'm some sort of vamp."
My relief was obvious. I began to blubber out words of gratitude, but Vicki cut me off with a wave of her hand.
"Don't thank me yet boy. Your problems aren't with me. Just look at yourself."
I looked down at my nearly nude form, first taking in the dainty camisole with my erect nipples visible through the thin apricot colored material. My gaze then fell below, to the lavender panties, bulging out obscenely from my still half-erect cock. Dark spots of pre-cum stained the front panel and waistband. I would have to find some way of washing them so that Lisa would not notice.
Vicki shook her head reproachfully, yet her voice was sympathetic "You have some issues that need to be addressed. And I'm not just talking about those clashing colors, my dear. If you keep going on like the uncontrolled little slut that you're apparently inclined to be, Lisa WILL find out. That is a certainty. Eventually you'll do something stupid to reveal yourself, and I can almost guarantee that she will NOT be amused. Is that what you want boy?"
"No ma'am," I replied in a small voice.
"You need to get this under control boy, but I don't think you can do it alone. Do you?"
"No ma'am," I answered, almost whispering.
"Well, fortunately I can help you. If you wish."
My heart leapt. I grabbed at her offer like a drowning man reaching for a life-ring. "C-could you?" I found myself falling to my knees before her. It seemed more appropriate to be looking UP into those brilliant green eyes. "Would you please...?" My tears were welling up again but I didn't care.
Vicki laid a hand gently on my shoulder. "Of course I will boy." Her voice flowed over me like sweet syrup. "All you had to do was ask."
She plucked the thin strap of my camisole up and slid it from my shoulder. The material fell away to reveal one of my breasts. She ran her hand over it. Her fingers were cool. I gave a small shudder, and this made her smile. She took my nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gently kneaded it. I felt myself becoming aroused again. I detected the musky scent of her womanhood, now tantalizingly close to my face.
"Of course there are specific things you must do in order for this to work."
She slipped the other strap off and the flimsy garment slid away. Both of my breasts were now exposed to her. She pinched my nipples, just hard enough to hurt a little.