One Good Fetish Leads to Another

ONE GOOD FETISH LEADS TO ANOTHER

My name is Diane.

My long-time boyfriend, Michael and I were both 19. Having just finished school, neither of us had any ambitions of University, all we wanted was each other, without the limitations of living with our parents. We had been lovers for some time. Kissing and cuddling were reluctantly tolerated at my home, which was a small rented house occupied by just my Mother and myself. I never found out what happened to Dad. By the time I was old enough to ask the question, it was history and probably best left there. Michael's parents made no secret that I was not good enough for their son and did not allow even that. Anything further relied on finding somewhere secluded outdoors. Not too bad in the summer, but even then we were at the mercy of the weather and insects that found our exposed bodies irresistible.

We had both managed to find relatively secure and comparatively well-paid jobs, so the solution appeared to be a no-brainer - get our own place to live.

Easier said than done, letting agents were reluctant to take on teenagers. We eventually found somewhere in a house that had been converted into two flats. The occupants of the other flat were also quite young and friendly. They warned us that the flats were not exactly soundproofed and that whilst you couldn't overhear normal conversation, creaking bedsprings and associated sounds could be heard. They wouldn't complain if we didn't!! We shared a bottle of wine and sort of agreed to try to confine those sort of noises to before midnight.

Not perfect, but could have been a lot worse. Having signed a 12 month, renewable, rental agreement we were stuck with it anyway.

Needless to say, freed from parental restraints, we shagged like rabbits, even sometimes trying to synchronize our bedspring chorus with that of our housemates. It was great, but something was missing. Their sessions usually ended with what was almost a scream from the girl. Ours, for me at least, had no conclusion other than Michael filling me with copious quantities of cum. It was not his fault, he tried everything he could to bring me to a climax, until for no apparent reason everything clicked. I had the most violent and noisy orgasm. My first, or was it? I was suddenly reminded that the sensations were exactly the same as those I had experienced while being spanked by my Mother!!

I now understood how shocked she must have been. I wrote her a short note, just saying that everything was OK, giving her our address and 'phone number. Her reply, also brief, said that she was glad things had worked out for us and that she had found someone, with whom she was spending a lot of time and hopefully something more soon.

As we passed our house mates on the way out to do some shopping, the girl, I never did get to know her name, rather cheekily remarked that she had thought I was the strong silent type, but was not complaining.

We were half way through our second year in the flat and it had become clear that there was no way that we were going to be able to scrape enough money together for the deposit on a house any time soon. So plan "B".

There wasn't one, or was there?

I had kept in touch with my Mother, who I now knew by her name, Claire. She had moved in with a long time "friend". He had visited her on a number of occasions but had only stayed overnight twice while I was still living at home. He seemed a decent enough person and I was glad to see her happy.

One day, I had an unexpected, tearful 'phone call from her. He had died in hospital after a short but severe illness.

She had a proposition for us. Once the formalities had been completed, the house would be hers, together with a fairly substantial sum from a life insurance policy. How would we feel about moving in with her until she had got her head round what to do next.

She explained that the house was far too large for her on her own. It was her long-term intention to sell it and buy something more manageable. Any excess from the transactions could go towards our deposit fund, plus we would be living rent free until that had happened.

Too good to be true? It had to be, but although Michael and I had gone over it again and again, we couldn't find any way it was not a win-win situation.

The icing on the cake came when we mentioned it to our neighbors, who told us that they knew a couple who would be more than happy to take over our rental agreement.

I took 2 weeks off from work and moved in with her almost immediately to help sort out her affairs. Some of these were particularly distressing for her, not least because his death was sudden, not the result of a lengthy medical condition. We were also able to work out how we could share the house, while each preserving our personal space. There were enough rooms for that to be fairly straightforward, except for the kitchen, bathroom and utility room.

There was a cloakroom downstairs with a toilet but only basic washing facilities. It turned out that because it was quite spacious and obviously had basic plumbing and drainage, installing a shower would be quite simple. So bathroom problem largely solved.

Our portion of the house was to be on the ground floor, consisting of two large rooms which were to be our bedroom and living area. By shuffling existing furniture between one of the spare bedrooms upstairs and our new one, we were able have all the basics for both us and Claire, without much expense.

It was comfortable for all of us, which meant that there was no urgency to move on. Just as well, as the formalities seemed to be endless.

Meanwhile, Michael had sorted out the transfer of the rental agreement and was in the process of moving our personal belongings - it was surprising how much we had accumulated over the last 18 months. It was mostly clothes, but there were 2 chest-of-drawers which we had acquired.

MICHAEL

The chests presented a bit of a problem as I could just about get them, one at a time, into the back of the car but without their drawers in place. The one which contained my things was straightforward, I just tipped what was in them into a couple of bin-liners to be sorted out later.

The other, Diane's, was much more interesting. The middle 2 of the 4 drawers held jumpers, other small clothing, nail polish, cosmetics and similar items, which were quickly dealt with in the same way. In fact the top and bottom draw content also followed the same pattern, eventually, after some more detailed examination.

The top drawer unsurprisingly was full of bras and panties. Some of them were extremely sexy. It occurred to me that I had never really seen Diane in just her underwear. My loss. Being a typical male, I had been far more interested in getting to the contents rather than appreciating the packaging. I resolved to put that right.

Amongst the panties was an unopened pack of 7, all different colours, along with what appeared to be suggestions as to how they could be interpreted. it also included iron-on stickers, some preprinted, others blank to be filled in with an indelible marker. Scope for an Imaginative game perhaps?

However, it was the bottom drawer - no we were not planning to get married - that intrigued me. There were 2 different sized didoes, a vibrating egg and a few other toys including a spongy ball-gag, which I later found that she had got to muffle her new found vocal reaction to an orgasm. As this had turned out to not be a problem, had not been used.

These discoveries had already made me masturbate to a hard erection, but it was a plastic bag containing about 5 clearly very soiled panties - just waiting to be washed? Probably - that pushed me over the edge. I couldn't resist taking them out of the bag to savor their pungent scent and taste. Although I had gone down on her many times, this was something else and almost immediately brought me to a mind-blowing climax.

I had never thought of myself as a pantie slave!!

We finally completed the move.

Diane explained to me what she had agreed with her Mother about the kitchen - not really a problem - just to clear up anything we had used and keep it clean.

The utility room was a bit more complicated. Rather than have a lot of small washes, they had agreed that we would only sort things into 2 baskets. Hot wash and cool wash. It would not be rocket science to sort out what belonged to whom afterwards.

I carefully checked the accumulating laundry, but after 3 days there was no sign of Diane's panties, only 3 rather larger slips obviously belonging to Claire. At the first opportunity, I checked Diane's bottom drawer, the plastic bag was still there with just 1 more pair of equally dirty panties. I couldn't resist checking them out, nearly getting caught in the act.

Diane's time off work had come to an end and a pattern began to emerge. She had to leave for work about half an hour before me, giving me time to watch her get dressed. This had become a turn-on for me, but not nearly as much as my now daily masturbation with her soiled panties over my face. This inevitably started to affect our sex life.

Next day, the panty bag was empty. Diane must have hand-washed them as there was a new pile in her top drawer. Several days passed with no panties in either the laundry baskets or her bottom drawer. She had also managed to get dressed without me watching. I felt guilty about my obsession with her panties and masturbation, but she couldn't have found out about that. Couldn't she??

An explanation came from an unlikely source, her Mother.

It was a Saturday morning. Diane had gone to do the week's shopping, when Claire came into the kitchen. She obviously wanted to tell, or ask me something, but was having difficulty finding the right words.

All sorts of things went through my mind as I waited. I even wondered if she was going proposition me. She was a very good-looking woman for her age and had looked after herself. I was not completely sure if I would have been able turn her down. Fortunately, I didn't have to make that decision.

When she eventually spoke, it was very clear why she had found it difficult, It concerned Diane's soiled knicker habits, or to be more accurate, what had happened as a result of them.

CLAIRE

I was not at all sure that I should be telling Michael about an Incident that had occurred quite recently when Diane was already 18 years old, but although she had only been living here for less than 2 weeks, there were indications that the circumstances, which had led to it, were repeating themselves. Perhaps I was only doing it to assuage the intense guilt I still felt. It was also quite possible that Diane herself, didn't understand what had really occurred, except in her subconscious.

She had developed a strange but worrying habit of hiding her soiled panties. In spite of having been told many times that some yellow staining and even skid-marks were nothing to be ashamed of, they happened to everyone, her behavior remained the same. Even occasional punishments had not had any effect. It came to a head when she ran out of clean panties and asked if she could buy some more.

On investigating how this had happened, I had found over a dozen pairs of very soiled panties in a plastic bag, some of which had clearly been worn more than once. I broke one of my strict rules - never to administer punishment while angry - and I was very angry. It deserved a spanking and I was determined that this time it would be a really severe one.

I ordered Diane to lie face down on the bed and in spite of her protests that she was too old to punished in that way, I managed to tie her wrists to the headboard with the cord from her dressing-gown.

Picking up a wood-backed hair brush from the dressing table, I pulled Diane's skirt up, tucking it under her body, leaving her panty clad bottom beautifully exposed and vulnerable. Before starting the spanking, I warned Diane to be quiet and accept her punishment or things would be considerably worse for her.

Diane had taken the first couple of dozen increasingly hard strokes without speaking, but the realization that there were many more to come, broke her resolve and she had started to alternately plead for mercy and call me the most awful names.

Without saying a word to her, I paused the beating while looking for a narrow belt. Finding something suitable, I pulled Diane's panties completely off, removing the only slight protection they had afforded. They were no cleaner than the ones I had found earlier, which encouraged me to roll them up and stuff them into her mouth, securing them with the belt. Punishment to fit the crime!! This was something Diane was not going to forget in a hurry

The spanking of Diane's now extremely red, sore bottom, had hardly restarted, when something strange happened. Diane's moaning changed, became louder and her whole body convulsed uncontrollably. She had just had the most intense orgasm with absolutely no sexual contact!! Confirmed by the whitish discharge seeping out of her exposed vagina.

I was shocked by what had happened and while untying her wrists told her she was right, she was too old to be treated like a schoolgirl. It wouldn't happen again. Having got rid of the gag, her reply had been,

"You're fucking right it won't."

A little over 2 weeks later, I came home to find all her things had gone. Not even a note of explanation.

MICHAEL

I was saved from any more by the return of Diane, laden down with shopping bags.

More questions than answers.

Were Diane's panty games really a cry to be tied up and spanked? If so, could I, or would I want to do that? How would that conflict with my new found panty fetish, not exactly macho behavior? Perhaps I would prefer to be recipient of a good spanking while panty gagged? Could we somehow find compromises which would satisfy us both and get our sex life back on track?

Another story perhaps?