Delicious Delicates

This is a squeaky clean story, no sex. I wrote it for a Facebook group. Just thought I'd warn you.

Delicious Delicates

or

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

It is my nineteenth birthday, and I am all dressed up waiting for my date to arrive. Since I have some time, I thought I'd scribble down some notes about how I got to this night.

It all started less than a year ago when I arrived back at my parents home after College got out for the summer break. Mom told me a woman had moved in next door recently, her name was Maria Johnson. She was divorced and lived there alone. My parents were very old fashioned, and did not believe in divorce, so this was quite taboo to my mom. She was courteous, but not overly friendly to our new neighbor. I didn't give her any further thought, and called my old neighborhood buddies to get a baseball game going.

I did the usual older teenager guy things, hanging out with my buds, playing sports and mountain biking. Then one morning I went outside to sit on the back deck to drink my coffee. That's when I noticed them; shiny, brazenly colored women's underwear. Pink ones, red ones, purple ones, and even a yellow pair, all very feminine, sexy, tiny... panties! They were hanging on Ms. Johnson's clothesline, lightly blowing in the breeze. I sat there staring at them, in lust with the way the sun shone off them. At the time, I didn't know what kind of material they were made of. But I knew it wasn't the familiar cotton my underwear or my mom's plain underwear were made of. I spent all my time playing sports or mountain biking, and I was quite shy, so I didn't really date much. To put it bluntly, at eighteen I had only ever gotten to first base with girls. Yes, I was a virgin. So these beautiful, delicate, intimate pieces of female clothing that were swaying in the wind; had me mesmerized. I wanted to touch them, to feel the fabric. I actually thought about climbing the fence and taking them down from the clothesline. I quickly threw that idea out of my head. I had visions of Ms. Johnson or my mom screaming pervert or something. I went riding my mountain bike, but I couldn't get the image of those panties out of my mind. I wasn't concentrating on my riding, and crashed more than usual that day. When I got home, I ran out to the backyard to get another glimpse; but they were gone. Ms. Johnson had obviously taken her laundry inside.

All week I thought about those panties, I even found myself digging in my mom's underwear drawer. But my mom's were so boring, heck, mine were sexier than hers. I was constantly "excited;" I relieved my "excitement" every night in bed thinking of those panties. Then one night I went out to cut the grass after dinner. There they were; Ms Johnson was hanging out her laundry, including her delicious delicates. We introduced ourselves; she said there just wasn't enough time in the day for a working girl to get everything done. I clumsily nodded in agreement. She knew her laundry wouldn't dry tonight, so she was going to leave it out and bring it in after work the next day. Ms. Johnson was a beautiful woman, about thirty years old, but I wasn't really paying any attention to her or what she was saying. I was focusing on her panties that were now hanging on the line. But what she just said suddenly struck me. Her clothes would be out all night! I nearly ran over my foot several times with the lawn mower while cutting the grass because my mind kept going over my plan to possess a pair of Ms. Johnson's intimate clothing.

Midnight, finally time to carry out my plan. Everyone was asleep; at least I hoped they were. I dressed all in black, just like they did in the movies, and snuck out of the house. I climbed over the backyard fence, stealthy like a Ninja. Only problem, I wasn't a Ninja. The fence creaked and groaned, and I fell into her yard with a dull thud. I scrambled to my feet, looking around to see if anyone heard my grand entry into criminal activity. Relatively confident nobody heard me, I focused my attention on the object of interest. The forbidden fruit, those delicious red panties. I hooked my hockey stick blade on them and gave a tug. They came free, and the clothesline made a loud twanging sound as the line snapped back. I grabbed the booty and ran, pole vaulting over the fence using my hockey stick. I hit the ground, rolled, and was back on my feet without missing a beat, heading for the back door. Inside my bedroom, I shut the door and stripped to my underwear. Climbed into bed and pretended I was asleep, just in case somebody suspected anything. If anybody saw me, they would know I wasn't asleep because my heart was probably two hundred beats a minute. But I had them; I clutched them tightly in my hand. I could feel the silkiness of the panties tingling my fingers. I got "excited" again and had to calm down using the feel of the panties on my "excitement." Afterwards I hung them up on a coat hanger in the back of my closet behind some clothes, to dry out. I fell asleep very relaxed and contented.

The next morning I got dressed, grabbed my new prize, went to the bathroom and locked the door. Nervous with anticipation, I slowly slipped them over my feet and up my legs. I snuggled them over my hips and my "excitement" instantly grew, making them even tighter on my hips. I learned they were called thong panties and didn't leave anything to the imagination from behind, as I admired myself in the mirror on the bathroom door. I had to relieve my "excitement," and then I pulled my jeans on over my new red panties. I put on a t-shirt and headed out the door. I snuck a look at Ms. Johnson's clothesline; there was an obvious empty spot where the panties were hanging. I started to worry if Ms. Johnson would know I took the panties, I felt guilty. Of course I obviously felt extremely naughty of the feel of them on my skin. And the adrenalin rush I was getting because of the danger of someone finding out I'm wearing woman's panties was incredible.

I wanted to keep to myself today and enjoy my new found "excitement." Every time I looked at someone I wondered what they would think if they knew I was wearing woman's panties. That now familiar "excitement" was growing in me again. So I thought I'd turn it up a notch and went to the mall. At the mall I was really tripping, anytime someone even glanced my way, I figured they knew. Suddenly I saw a couple of my buddies heading my way. Now thinking that strangers knew what I was wearing was one thing, but the thought of my buddies knowing was too much. I turned and started to walk away, too late, I heard my name being called. I tried to ignore them, but they ran up to me. They asked me if I was deaf, why I didn't respond to them. I lied that I didn't notice them. They said they were going up to the lake for a swim and asked if I wanted to go. I made an excuse that I didn't have any swim trunks. They said not to worry about that, neither did they, skinny dipping was the word I heard. Panicking, I rattled off about a dozen excuses why I couldn't go, I almost said my dad had died and I had to go to the funeral. They asked if I was okay, because I was sweating so much and as red as a cooked lobster. I felt like I was cooked, if they found out, I would be. I told them another lie that I had to go home and do chores around the house. We said goodbye and I hurried home, "excitement" building in me the whole way. Once home I bee lined it to the bathroom and relieved myself of the "excitement" screaming to be released.

Relaxed, I went to sit on the back deck. I looked over at Ms. Johnson's clothesline, her laundry was still there. Including the bare spot where the red panties were. I started feeling super guilty of her losing a pair of panties, and wanted to do something to sort of pay for them. I noticed her grass was pretty long and decided I would cut it for her. I hurried through it so it would be done before she got home. That way she wouldn't know I did it. As I was cutting her grass, I kept thinking about wearing her panties while cutting her grass. When I was done I had to go and relieve the "tension" that had built up again. After, I wondered how expensive the panties were and if a grass cutting job would cover the cost.

The next day I had them on again, and headed out to the mall. I went into the department store and wandered through the woman's section to try and get an idea how much panties cost. A saleslady asked me if I needed any help. I nervously stuttered out "no," and beat it the heck out of there. I realized I didn't get as "excited" about wearing the panties as the day before. I figured I needed to escalate the danger level. I went home and dug through my mom's drawer and found what I was looking for, pantyhose! I stole women's clothes from my neighbor; I might as well steal them from my mom. Into the bathroom I went, and breathing hard, with my heart racing again, I began to put them on. After some frustration, I figured out how to roll them up to get them on. The feeling of the hose against my skin was electrifying. I studied myself in the mirror, with the red panties and pantyhose on; the "excitement" returned and I quickly relieved myself. Exhausted and content, I fell asleep on my bed.

I woke up to the sound of mom calling me to dinner. Once I came to my senses, I looked down at my feet and was horrified to see my feet encased in pantyhose! I completely forgot about that fact and nervously wondered if my mom looked in on me and saw them. I quickly put on a pair of socks to hide them and noticed the "excitement" was back. The thought of being discovered had pushed all the right buttons. At the table my mom asked me what I was doing in the bathroom so long. Flushed, I mumbled that I was cleaning my hands for dinner. That night in bed I relieved my "excitement" two more times. I had to relieve my "excitement" four times that day.

My buddy called the next day to see if I wanted to go mountain biking. That sounded cool to me, so I got ready. I already had my panties on, just had to put my bike shorts on. They're made of spandex and fit tightly to my body, but because of the thong panties, I didn't have to worry about panty lines. I had a great time getting adrenaline rushes from bombing down steep hills as fast as I could. The fun came to a bit of an end when my front wheel hit a rock, and I was pitched over the handlebars. I did a nice Superman through the air and landed on a bunch of rocks. I scraped myself up pretty good on my legs and arms, and opened up a big gash on my leg. My buddy came running over and said I needed to go to the emergency center to get stitches. I panicked thinking a nurse would get me to take my clothes off and see my panties. I said I didn't need stitches, a little bit of duct tape would do just fine. The blood was pouring out of my leg, my buddy told me I was crazy and demanded I go to the emergency.

At the emergency center, I got lucky because the doctor was able to stitch me up without having to remove my shorts. I was daydreaming about panties as he stitched me up, not really listening to him. He got my attention when he mentioned that if I had my legs shaved, my cuts and scraps would heel better. The scabs wouldn't form over any hair and would come off better. Now this intrigued me, not for the reasons the doctor said. I had my own reasons; they had to do with pantyhose and femininity.

That night, I removed the bandages the doctor put on and went to the bathroom. I got my razor and shaving cream, and went to work, beginning on my legs. It was a little painful around the wounds, but I managed. When I got to my groin, I hesitated, said the heck with it, and kept shaving, all the way to the hair on my head. That hair I kept. When the guys mentioned my shaved legs, I used the excuse the doctor mentioned. Plus I told them that like a swimmer in water, a shaved body cuts down on wind resistance when riding a bike. I chuckled when they fell for that load of crap.

I waited for the scabs to fall off before I put the pantyhose back on. I just didn't feel very feminine with the scabs all over my legs. I shaved before I put them on, and when I slid them up my shaved legs; wow! The "excitement" in me went ballistic. I relieved the "excitement" in the bathroom, and two more times in bed.

At the end of summer, before going back to college; I decided to go even further in my naughtiness. I did it in the bathroom before dinner. All during dinner and after while cutting the grass; I couldn't stop thinking about what I did.

By the way, Ms. Johnson didn't have to cut her grass at all that summer. Once a week she would come home after work to a freshly cut lawn. A couple more pairs of her panties mysteriously went missing also. She always hung her laundry out in the evening, and brought it in the following day after work.

After cutting the grass, I went inside, took off my grass stained sneakers, and sat down to watch television with my mom and dad. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore; the "excitement" was driving me crazy. I told my parents I was tired and went to bed early. On my bed, I took off my jeans, exposing my new bright yellow high cut panties that I traded for a lawn cutting. Even though the other party wasn't aware of the transaction; I think. Then the moment I'd been waiting for since before dinner. I removed my socks to reveal my new, glossy pink colored toe nails! I wiggled my toes and reveled in my new femininity. The "excitement" surged through my body in wave after wave of electricity. I fell asleep in a puddle of sweat, totally contented and relaxed, after relieving my "excitement" three times.

Back at college I discontinued my midnight shopping on backyard clotheslines, and built my feminine collection of clothes from purchases at the mall. At some stores; the salesladies, and salesmen, knew me by name, and helped me with my sizing and selection. Outwardly I looked like a regular guy, but all the clothes I had on were woman's clothes. Panties of course, thigh high stockings, and woman's jeans that looked similar to guys, just a lower waist. A woman's t-shirt that looked somewhat masculine and woman's sneakers.

So here I am on my nineteenth birthday, my birthday present to myself, is to go out as a complete woman with my date. I have a lovely shoulder length, brunette wig on, and just enough makeup on to look classy, not sluttish. Nice dangly earrings in my pierced earlobes. I have a red satin blouse on, and a black lacey bra underneath, stuffed with a pair of silicone breast forms. A black pleated miniskirt and nude thigh high stockings held up by a black lacey garter belt. As a memorial to my coming out, I have a pair of silk red panties on. Not Ms. Johnson's, they're long gone, worn away to shreds. Bright red nail polish on my toes, and the same color on my long glue-on finger nails. The whole ensemble toped with a sexy pair of black five inch stilettos with an ankle strap. To say that I'm "excited" is an understatement.

Finally my date arrives, and off we go for a night on the town, arm in arm. The two of us make quite a sight!