Pink Juice

Because men don't wear panties

No. Men don't wear panties.

I lean forwards and turn them around so the little bow on the front faces away from me

I'm a man, so I don't wear panties.

I crouch, standing on one leg, my right foot tickled by the lace trim around the hem as it passes through.

Men don't wear panties.

Shifting my weight I do the same with the other leg.

I'm a man, so I don't wear panties.

I move my fingers up to the waistband, feeling the satin pinched between my fingertips again.

Men don't wear panties.

I pull them upwards.

I'm a man, so I don't wear panties.

I feel my leg hairs tickled by the lace in a rising wave.

Men don't wear panties.

As my calves and then my thighs grow thicker the ascent slows slightly as the elastic stretches around me.

I'm a man, so I don't wear panties.

I lean forwards to tuck my penis into them, trying to trap it in the soft gusset.

Men don't wear panties.

I straighten up, bringing my hands around my hips to pull the waistband over my butt. The elastic thrills me as it passes up and over.

I'm a man, so I don't wear panties.

I let go.

The elasticated waist snaps into place around me, bringing a lacy hem with it. A darling little bow now rests where my penis likes to stand when it's hard. It isn't now though, it's luxuriating, along with my balls, in a soft silk hammock that cradles and nestles them gently and firmly. It's a little uncomfortable, but not too much. I feel the soft sexy material against my most sensitive areas and all across my butt. I twist a little, allowing the panties to follow my motion and lightly echo it against me. It's electric.

Every movement is a delicate teasing reminder of the mischievous misdeed I'm wearing. As I step into my trousers, bend over to draw them up my legs, bend over again to tie my shoes and step forward to place my soiled boy underwear in the PINK store bag each little movement is a reminder of how they both do and don't quite fit me, and how they cradle and caress me in a soft, secret embrace.

Holy shit.

I'm a man, and I'm wearing panties.

I feel naughty, flustered and very excited. I know now that women's underwear is infinitely superior, even if I never wear these again.

Can I really go out into the world like this? Can I bring myself to leave the bathroom? Before I can answer the door is swinging shut behind me.

If the shopping trip itself was a blur it's nothing compared to exiting the shop. Keeping my unwrapped bag in the hand furthest from the counter I blurt out a thank you to the assistant as I make a beeline for the door. She clocks the open bag and smirks wickedly. 'Have a delightful day!' I blush hard.

Then I'm out. Fresh air greets my hot flushed face like an ice bath. I'm shocked to my senses slightly, the pink fog doesn't completely clear but just for a moment I have a shaft of clarity into what I'm doing.

I'm wearing panties.

With that their enchantment overcomes me again, a fresh surge of excitement making me giddy and squirmy and thirsty for something fizzy and pink. I need it. I need her. I need them both. My lips beg for the coldness of the can and the soft warmth of Violet. Where is she?

The truck is gone, but a mysterious figure steps out from an alley veiled in a puff of cigarette smoke. She tosses her lit stick aside and struts up to you with a smile. "So how did it go?" She nods at the bag clearly opened.

Wha- what the... Violet... Where's the van? Where are the other girls? Do you still have any Pink Juice left?

She holds up a can 'Right here, sweet cheeks. But first I need some proof.'

Oh thank god... The site of the can calms me. God, I'm so hot, I really need to cool down... 'Um. Yeah. Yes Violet, I did it.'

" Show me!"

'Oh, but, um, out here?'

"Yes and make it quick while nobody's around, unless you want an audience?"

'No!'

Ok. OK. Deep breaths. I check over my shoulder for unexpected company, then unbutton my trousers, prying my fly open to reveal unmistakable lace lined blue satin and a sweet little bow.

'Awwww what a nice choice!' Violet coos with delight and slips the can into the gift bag. As she does she notices the other garment. "You got a bra too?" She asks with some intrigue.

'Oh, um...' I feel the blush rise ferociously up my neck. 'Y-yes, I did. There was a special offer. Do you want it?'

"No it looks more like your size. Take it home and try it on if you get curious" she winks. 'That's all for today, she winks and struts away. 'Have fun at work, Charlie!'

B-but... Violet! I call after her, hoping for at least a kiss, but she's gone.

I watch her leave, my hand slightly outstretched like in a bad movie. She turns a corner and vanishes from view, disappearing from my life again as mysteriously as she entered it.

I turn away to lean against a wall and take a breather. My thoughts are still a little fuzzy but the rush of what's happened to me is subsiding. I'm wearing panties in public. Shit.

The walk back to the office should be brisk, but the movement of the satin against my intimates is too exciting to handle and impossible to ignore. My walk must look very unnatural to passers by as I take increasingly smaller and slower steps. Can they see me biting my lip too?

The journey to my desk is similarly tantalising. I'm sure the receptionist clocks my PINK bag from the lingerie store, bra and boy underwear ensconced within it, but I'm lucky to get it into my work bag before anyone else can comment on it. The afternoon snails by. Whether I sit at my desk or walk to and from the kitchenette, photocopier, whatever I'm so utterly acutely aware of the soft silky caress of my secret. Come on boy, concentrate. Women must wear sexy stuff in public all the time and nobody knows about it. Until later, of course.

I've no idea how discreet I'm being, nevertheless I can feel the light squeeze of the elastic around my legs and waist. When I move I can even feel the lace trim tickle me.

I do get up once to use the bathroom, muscle memory taking me to the men's room, thank God. Fearing being caught at the urinal I take solace in a stall, unbuckling and revealing my secret to the close grey walls. For the first time since putting them on I peel away my panties. They still feel so wonderfully soft and velvety on my hands, let alone my cock. But what I see next is alarming.

I've clearly gotten too excited, and despite only being semi-hard thanks to the confines of the panties my dick seems to have leaked an obscene amount of precum into them. A string of it still connects my tip to the fabric. I've made them as wet as a real girl would. I make a squeaky noise in shock and surprise and it sounds very very feminine. Taking care of it again with some tissue I resolve to drain my balls two or three times over tonight. I can't be this worked up.

I can hardly focus. When my mind isn't wandering around in my panties it's following Violet down a series of alleyways, watching her look back at me enticingly before losing sight of her again. And if my mind isn't imagining that it's reaching into my bag, past the lacy blue bra to take a mental sip from the sacred pink can. I reel between arousal and excitement at the thought of its sparkling fruity taste and the burst of lusty energy it will give me. I can't wait to drink it again. I have to

Hometime comes but I clench my teeth and stay seated until most of my colleagues have left. My panties have teased a fresh and strong erection from me and there's no way I'm standing up yet. God, this is awful, I'm trapped here until I can calm down and that seems utterly impossible...

With only one colleague and I remaining I risk it and head for the water cooler to down two full glasses. It works, thank god, and I leave for the day with those same stilted steps as before, my secret making its presence known to (only?) me with every slight shift.

The walk home takes almost twice as long as usual as I have to stop twice to fight back another prick stiffening. I finally barge my way back into the apartment and lock the door behind me. I'm already tearing my clothes off as I close the curtains, despite it not yet being dark. I drop my trousers and reveal my lace-lined blue satin secret to the room.

Good god I'm horny. My dick is at full mast already, or it would be if it weren't being hampered by this satin prison. Pitching a tent in this underwear not made with my dimensions in mind is causing the rear to squeeze against my ass. It feels almost like a person is doing it and I feel teased and even a little objectified.

I move my hand down to my panties and lightly touch myself through them. Christ.

The sensation of silky intimate pleasure ripples across my entire body. The velveteen texture all along my privates is already intense but tickling and teasing myself with my warm and deliberate hand is an otherworldly experience of shivering shimmering sexiness. I'm particularly sensitive on the underside of my cockhead and I focus a fingertip there, watching as my panty prison contracts around my burgeoning stiffness. It doesn't take long for a darker blue to appear at the tip, once again betraying my excitement.

Oh how I've longed for what comes next; that knife-edge moment before a girl takes her underwear off; the final promise of her body, her sex and sensuality. It's everything to me and always has been. And now I've longed for it another way; to release myself from this silken confinement and free my cock for some serious playtime.

My left thumb hooks under the waistband. My right hand slips inside. The lace tickles the back of my knuckles. My fingertips, then fingers, then palm find and grasp my warm, supple skin.

In one fluid motion my cock breaches my panties and tastes fresh air - and fluid is the operative word looking at my liquid arousal trailing after it. I release the elastic, trapping my churning balls within their new feminine home. The panties nestle around their shape and covet their contents. I'm already pumping, spreading my premess around my head and shaft as I settle into the chair and open the laptop.

My first search is for a masturbation compilation, just to set the mood to absolute filth. As the sound of dozens of girls moaning, whimpering and touching themselves fills the apartment I open the PINK store bag perched next to me on the chair.

The sticky boxers come out first and are thrown across the room. Who needs 'em?

The bra comes next. I've not really held it in my hands before, or even really had a good look at it. Even with no-one wearing it it certainly looks sexy. I can picture a pair of perky little breasts filling it easily, very easily in fact. I throb. I lay it down on the sofa next to me and trace its straps with one finger, allowing the motion to continue along the lace trim. I'm unable to resist poking at the cup and find the soft squishy resistance very enticing; apparently us A-cup 'girls' are afforded a little bonus padding. It's like when a magician reveals their trick, but in this case the trick is sexy and feminine and alluring.

What was it Violet had said? 'Try it on if you get curious.' Ha! Fat chance. I give the left cup a squeeze, imagining it to be a willing partner. Maybe Violet? Would she suit blue? Probably, but if not? All the more reason to take it off!

Lastly comes my true prize, the reason behind all this madness. My hard earned can of Pink Juice is finally mine. I hold it in my hand, feeling its weight. It still feels cool despite not having been refrigerated for hours. How strange... That must be what the pink mist does. Even now a bead of condensation travels once again down the nape of the neck of the model on the can. I've licked it up before I even know what I'm doing.

Oh yeah. Oh fuck yeah. This is what it's all been about. I've suffered through so much embarrassment for this, and put my dignity on the line. I'm still wearing the panties I was coerced into, all for the sake of this sweet nectar. I release my penis for just long enough to open the can.

Crack goes the ring pull.

Fizz go the bubbles.

The now familiar pink cloud blooms out of the can and I welcome it. Having felt one in my head for the last three days, this one looks familiar and friendly. I know it heralds a surge in energy, sensation and horniness and I'm ready for it. I'm ready for it all. I lift the can to my mouth.

Images of Violet flash before my eyes as I take a few sips and am lost in abandon. I hear myself making a moaning noise that is more awkward than sexy but completely outside of my control.

The taste is still every bit as breathtaking as the first time: pink guava, strawberry, pear and cinnamon, all of it light, crisp and effervescent with pink vitality. A vision of Violet swims out of the pink fog to kiss me, and as she slips the tongue in the first taste of the Pink Juice graces my tongue with a refreshing tingle. Soon the cool liquid fills every corner of my mouth. My whole world is this taste. My whole world is Pink Juice.

The can is soon empty and I sigh, leaning back into the chair and turning my focus to the screen. Time for some edges while I wait for my energy booster to take effect.

I jerk smoothly and smoothly, coaxing the load in my balls up, up up and out of the sleek and silky panty prison. I feel it rise along my length like a thermometer on a hot day. As it crests I stop, letting the intensely hot and gooey feeling subside and emanate to my entire groin, groaning with desire as I edge. My precum beads and leaks out of me, drooling down onto my silken ballsack and staining it from the outside this time. Fuck this is hot.

I edge again and again to more and more extreme videos. Pink hair handjobs give way to pink hair blowjobs, and soon all manner of rose tinted sluts are being pounded in all of their holes, squealing and moaning at each new dick they're taking.

I reach for a tissue to catch my first load of many for the evening and focus on a pink haired vixen lying on her back as a hung stud stretches her to new limits. Her hands reach up over her head to cover her face, a poorly hidden grimace of pain melting away with each thrust. Her eyes roll back, her moans become animal and she climaxes hard, shuddering around this pussy pleaser. She loses herself in reckless abandon to her orgasm, and so do I.

Well, I try to.

My edge is very strong this time, I've lost my load to weaker edges than this but despite my arousal and the hotness of the scene I find it's not quite enough... Dammit. My cum is stymied somehow en route to release. I pump harder and tighter; I'm almost there, almost there but not quite.

As my load sinks back down, grumbling and uncomfortable I switch to a new tab to watch another nymphomaniac e-girl take a deserved dicking, this time from behind and looking directly into the camera. She's sensitive, this one, her wails giving over to actual screams of pleasure. I join in, matching the man's strokes with my hand and grunting in tandem with the scene. This feels good. I think I can get there. Yes. YES. Take it you naughty slut! You love it! YES!

And yes I STILL can't quite get there. My cum rushes along almost all of my inches but can't quite make it to freedom. I tug harder and harder in desperation, COME ON. I want to cum! I want to spray my filth to these girls, feel the blessed release as it jettisons from me like a laser. I want hot wet heat on my fingers and a light ache in my drained nutsack. Oh please let me cum. PLEASE!

The girl in the scene takes a creampie with another trembling moan but I'm so preoccupied I'm still furiously pumping even as the video ends.

OK, OK. Obviously this isn't working. Let's try the same thing as last time.

I call up Violet's Instagram on my phone and settle in for a quick edge. Normally I'd look for the hottest picture but right now I just want relief. There'll be time to edge to every picture she's ever posted once the Pink Juice kicks in and my body reawakens with energy and lust. Right now it's time to let go and lose this load.

Every picture is incredible. She's the most beautiful, sexy girl I've ever seen. I can still feel her lips on mine, her hands on my shoulders as she forced me up against the van and the same hand on my ass as she sent me on my way. She is pure sex and has made it very clear she wants to share that pure sex with me. She's a dreamgirl.

So WHY can't I finish to her?!

For fuck's sake, this is getting stupid. Another delicious warm edge plummets back into ache and frustration. I've never had trouble cumming before. I can't believe my dick is betraying me like this. Every other part of my body wants blissful release and yet this eager, dripping throbbing rod won't play ball.

I play with my balls but that doesn't help either.

I find a picture where Violet is wearing a purple lacy lingerie set and an open pale rose robe. A picture is worth a thousand words but in this instance those words are 'come to bed' over and over again. I look imploringly through the phone screen and into her eyes; pleading with her to help me finish. I even start begging a little out loud under my ragged breath;

'Please Violet, please. Please help me cum. Please let me cum, Violet...'

Her voice in my mind, unbidden. "Give it to me"

It's happening. Oh thank god it's happening. My balls tense. Something behind them shifts into action. A boiling bubbling liquid rush comes from within me; I can't see it yet but I know it's white. It thunders along my shaft - Oh yes! Oh yes! Just a bit more! further and more fluidly than each of my last edges combined. It's going to happen. So close! SO CLOSE! I abandon myself to the feeling and give myself to the explosion, now so inevitable, so glorious, so sticky...

The feeling fades to nothing. Within the last inch of my length it simply fizzles away.

GOOODDD NO! GAAHH!

I jerk wildly, chasing it back down my length but it's already thudding back into my balls and adding to the growing ache. FUCK!

I'm still hard, ferociously so. I know I can do this. I know I can get there. I just need the right pictures, yes, that's it, just some other sexy pics. I click open one of her posts and look at the hashtags. I know what I want. I want a picture of the whole group of those promo girls slutting up and making out with each other, and if her other racy pictures are anything to go by that's not unlikely.

What was the cosmetics company called that employed them? M&R, that's it. Yes, and there's the #MandR sponsorship hashtag, right next to one I've not tried; #MandRGirl

Click. Oh my god. There are thousands of them. Thousands upon thousands of unspeakably beautiful women, each of them thrilled to be an M&R Girl, whatever that is. And every last one a complete slut.

Holy shit, I'll never need porn again.

Every image of every girl without exception has her dressed in something revealing, alluring or basically nothing. Every lurid softcore fantasy a man can imagine is captured here. The girls are alternately flirty and sultry, teasing and smouldering. My cock leaks a fresh rush of arousal before I've even looked at any particular model yet. Time to fix that.

Swipe. A girl dressed as a 50's housewife, naked except for a pinafore and covered in baking ingredients. There's an obscene amount of cream in her multicoloured hair and running down her feminine features into her ample cleavage. Is it cream? Edge.

Swipe. A girl dressed head to toe in shiny black latex. The cat ears might be a playful costume but those curves are no joke at all. Edge

Swipe. A blonde e-girl in a pale pink negligee with fluffy white trim, reclining on a fuchsia bedspread and begging me to join her. Edge