My Daughter's Panties

This my first submission and the first of what could be a short series of stories. Please be constructive in your criticism.

All the characters engaging in sexual activities are over 60 years of age.

"This must be Thursday," the line from Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams kept echoing round in my head. "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."

The reason for my bemusement was my wife standing in front of me waving a small pink piece of fabric in my face shouting, "And what do you think of these?"

Perhaps this will make more sense with a bit of context. My name is Geoffrey, but you can call me Geoff; I don't think I need to share my surname. I'm an ordinary retired bloke in my mid-sixties looking for peaceful life, as if... I'm 5'10 and average build although my waist has thickened a bit since my days in the rugby club seniors' team. I still keep fit with regular trips to the local pool and walking a few miles every day.

My wife is called Marie after her French grandmother. Marie is a couple of months younger than me, also retired and has, as I tease her with, a curvy continental figure. Buxom, would be a good word to describe her. I love her to bits, even though she can go from nought to angry in 2 seconds. Oh, those passionate French. I have to be honest, however, the passions have waned somewhat recently. It isn't that we don't have sex any more, it's just that the periods between intimacy are getting exponentially longer. By my calculation, and yes that's how fulfilling my sex life is, the next attempt is due in six years.

We have two adult kids, Pete and Linda, each with decent jobs, their own homes and steady partners. Linda also has a 13 year old son, Colin, from a previous relationship with an idiot. I like Mike, her current boyfriend, he has an actual vocabulary; I think he's a keeper.

On this particular Thursday I had dropped my wife off at Linda's house to wait for a delivery of flat pack furniture from a well known Swedish store, whilst I made a quick trip to a local builders' merchant for some bits and pieces for jobs the kids needed doing at their houses; it being well known that retired fathers have nothing better to do with their time.

It only took half an hour or so and I knew that Marie would find something to occupy her; either mowing the lawn, weeding the borders or vacuum cleaning the stair carpet. The woman can't sit still. This Thursday, though, it appeared that Linda had pre-empted her mother, the lawn was manicured, the garden pristine and the whole house shone. My wife, however, does not give up easily and had decided to look in the laundry basket to see if there was anything she could get washed, dried and ironed while we waited for the delivery and I assembled the unit in Colin's room.

I let myself into Linda's house and shouted, "It's only me! Where are you?"

"I'm in here," my wife called back. Now, like most men, I often miss subtle cues but this time I resisted pointing out that if I knew where 'here' was I wouldn't have asked where she was. Why? Because she did not sound pleased at all and I was the only one there to take the fallout.

And that's how I found myself standing in Linda's kitchen while my wife waved a scrap of pink fabric in front of me, shouting, "And what do you think of these?"

"This must be Thursday," I echoed Arthur Dent's thoughts. "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."

I realised that my wife was angry but I hadn't been there to actually piss her off. I apparently do have the ability to piss her off in my absence, but I couldn't think of anything I might have done that involved pink fabric. I decided that she may provide further clues if I actually said nothing so I gazed at her blankly and shook my head.

"Don't you know what these are?" She yelled at me. Ah, a clue; but no. I still have no fucking idea. I shook my head again; it worked the first time.

"They are crotchless panties!" She hissed, "What do you think of that?" I considered the possibilities. They weren't mine, I didn't think they were Marie's, I thought they were a little large for Colin -- but if they were his, then I would encourage him to be who he needed to be -- so that left Linda as the most likely owner. I wasn't sure why Marie suddenly wanted to discuss my daughter's -- or Colin's -- underwear so I stuck to a strategy that had served me well so far, and said nothing. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and apparently now I was required to actually comment.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, genuinely puzzled as to why I would have an opinion on a grown woman's underwear. I mean, I knew my daughter wasn't a virgin; there was Colin as evidence for a start. I also doubted that Mike spent the weekends at Linda's house sleeping on the sofa, so what was the problem?

"What sort of woman would wear something like this?" My wife demanded, "What would you say if I wore panties like this?"

I don't really know what came over me: I usually have more sense than to say what I actually think. Most men only survive to my age by giving the answers their women want to hear, never what's actually going through our minds.

"What sort of woman would wear something like this?" I repeated, stepping forwards, my voice rising. "Perhaps a woman who wants to excite her man, perhaps a woman who wants to show him how naughty she can be, perhaps a woman who wears them because SHE likes them, perhaps a woman who wants to feel like she's still woman and not just a mother!" Marie stayed silent as I took another step forwards towards backing away just a little from me. All reason has left me and I knew she'd make me suffer for this but I wasn't about to let my wife belittle my little girl, now a grown woman, for enjoying her boyfriend in ways my wife was denying me.

"What would I say if you wore panties like that?

"I'd say 'Sweetheart, put a short skirt on and that nice cashmere sweater and lets take a walk to the park. Let's walk to the little shelter at the end of the path near the river; the one where you can see anyone walking towards you.'

"I'd say 'When we get there I'm going to stand behind you and lift the back of your skirt up and feel your bum, and if you're very good I'll reach right forwards through the slit in your panties and and find your soft warm slit inside them and rub you from front to back and back again.'

"I'd say, 'I'm going to put my fingers inside you and, when you get thoroughly wet, I'm going to unzip my trousers and put my cock in your hands to get it really hard and then I'll put it through the slit in the panties and into you.'

"I'd say, 'I'll press against you as you press yourself back into me and I'm going to fuck you rigid until we both come. And while we're thrusting at each other I'll put my hands under your sweater onto your bra-less breasts and tantalise your nipples until you could cut glass with them. I'll squeeze your tits and kiss your neck and thrust and thrust until we both come.'

"And then...," here I paused, "I'd like to think that I could take you home and do it all over again in the comfort of our bed."

By now I was standing directly in front of my wife, not menacing her but waiting for a response. She dropped the panties on the floor and reached up to me and gave me the first passionate kiss we'd had for ages. I lifted my hand and caressed her breast; she moaned into my mouth and... then the bloody doorbell rang.

I went to the door trying to think my stiffy down. Fortunately flat-pack furniture has little erotic appeal for me, so the delivery man was not offended. After helping me carry it into the entrance hall he left, mercifully unaware of my recent sexual arousal. I went back to the kitchen to see my wife and, although the moment was lost, she seemed calmer. I asked her to help me upstairs with the package and she told me she'd follow shortly, which she did. She helped me to unpack the unit and set out all of the parts and fittings before she went back down stairs leaving me to do the manly stuff. Marie brought me a cup of tea a while later and we chatted, although she seemed quieter than usual, then she went back downstairs again.

These units always seem to take me longer than I think they ought to put together, but eventually I finished and called my wife upstairs to admire my prowess as an assembler of Swedish bedroom furniture. She complimented me profusely, as I deserved, and we both returned to the kitchen. There, while I was busy doing technical, guy stuff upstairs, she had washed, tumble-dried and ironed Linda's laundry and laid it on the kitchen counter. On top of the pile was a pair of neatly ironed pink crotchless panties with a post-it note slipped inside. The note read, "Oooh, these look like fun. Love Mum," with a smiley face drawn at the bottom.

When we got home, my wife prepared our evening meal, as it had been my turn the day before, and I did some on-line shopping, ensuring that the items would be delivered next day while Marie was out volunteering at the local charity shop.

On Saturday I woke up before our alarm went off so I went in the bathroom first to shower and shave. My wife woke up as I returned to our bedroom and wandered off towards the bathroom for her shower showing her cute little bare tush as she went. I finished getting dried and dressed and made the bed, then I went downstairs after shouting through the bathroom door to see what she wanted for breakfast.

I took croissants out of the freezer and put the oven on to heat up as I made a cup of tea for each of us and set the table with butter and jam - apricot, obviously - for the croissants. As I was putting the tray of pastries into the oven I heard the shower turn off and the sound of Marie's footsteps as she made her way back to the bedroom to get dressed. Less than a minute later I heard a squeal. I had laid some clothes out for her; A pale blue cashmere sweater, a short dark blue skirt in a nice summery material and a pair of French navy blue crotchless panties.

There was a note slipped into the panties. It read, "It looks like the weather will be ideal for a walk to the park today, and this seems to be the perfect outfit. Love Geoff," with a smiley face on the bottom.

We enjoyed our walk as the weather was ideal... and the outfit was perfect. I think I might have finally got the hang of Thursdays.