tagIllustratedThe Panty Perils of Me 27

The Panty Perils of Me 27


OK, I can get back to Mr. Lawrence now that I have brought you up to date on Professor Eric.

Mr. Lawrence had asked me to accompany him to a theme party at his racquet club. He told that the theme of the party at his club was "Rock of Ages"; the musical based upon the late 80's and early 90's style of dress and music.

I grew up in the 80's and 90's when pants were tight, skirts and shorts were short, and bras and panties came in all colors and patterns; a time when I had awakened sexually; seen my first erection; gave my first hand job; and swallowed my first mouthful of spunk.

It brought back so many memories of my first times causing mini convulsions to begin in that sensitive area between my legs.

I couldn't wait to get out and find my 'Rock and Roll' outfit.

I drove to a store just off of the University where most everyone went for their Halloween costumes as it carried clothes or facsimiles of clothes from the 50's through the 90's.

I immediately looked for a black denim micro mini as it was my secret uniform on weekends. You know what I mean.

I would leave my house in jeans with my mini tucked away inside my shoulder bag. Once my girlfriends and I were a few blocks away from the house, we would pull the car over and change into our "Hey guys, look at us" outfits.

As I recalled my younger years, I continued to look through the skirts trying to locate one that would duplicate my wardrobe of 20 years ago.

When I found one in my size, I perused the blouses with shoulder pads and found one that was pure 90's. It was a blue blouse that buttoned up the front with a Native American print and huge shoulder pads.

Two items down, one to go.

I then went through the shoes and found the perfect pair of black suede boots that covered my ankles and had a black leather piece of trim around the top with 3 inch heels.

I took everything into the dressing room and tried on the blouse and skirt. The blouse was perfect as the shoulder pads made it look square on my body and the tails barely reached to my waist.

I was 19 years old again.

It was exactly what I used to wear on Friday and Saturday nights after I had graduated and started going to clubs and parties.

Now it was time to put on the black denim mini.

It looked short on the hanger. I mean, very short.

I took it off of the hanger, stepped into it and pulled it up my legs. The hem just kept going higher and higher as I pulled.

It sat perfectly on my hips just like I used to wear them, and the short length of my blouse left a space of bare skin where the waistband of the skirt and the tails of my blouse ended.

I then looked in the mirror and saw my legs exposed to the top of my thighs. OMG!!

I reached my arms high over my head, and there was my nylon covered crotch staring back at me.

I turned around and leaned forward as if to pick something up from the seat in the dressing room. Yep! My panties were on display in the back as well.

It is such a shock to put on a skirt that you commonly wore while in your 20's to realize how much of yourself used to show.

I can't even imagine how I did anything as the slightest movement of my arms brought the hem up to my crotch.

No wonder I attracted so much attention.

This skirt was exactly the length and style that I wore in my late teens and early 20's, but I am now in my forties.

Purposely showing so much skin off to Mr. Lawrence or anyone else just didn't seem the right thing to do.

So why am I starting to feel aroused just thinking about it.

Ever since this whole chain of panty perils began I have allowed my deepest desires and fantasies to take precedent in my decision making.

I need to start acting more responsible.

I gathered up my clothes and boots and walked back to the mini skirts. As I looked through all of the skirts sliding one hanger after another on the rack, I felt my body reacting to the reflection of myself in the dressing room mirror.

It was flooding my mind with all of the memories of my younger years.

I loved to tease and my array of short, short skirts with eye catching colors worn underneath became my weapon.

After all this was only for one night.

Without even realizing it I found myself at the cash register sliding my credit card, as the blue blouse, black suede boots, and black denim micro mini were being put into a bag.

As I started my trek home the sense of deja vu became even stronger.

I started to remember the first pair of panties that I had purchased for myself with my own money.

My sexual awakening was accompanied by a desire to wear women panties, not little girl ones. The days of cotton bikinis with kittens or rainbows printed on them had drawn to a close.

I wanted something much sexier underneath my school uniform and mini skirts.

I went by myself to the mall and found three pair of matching string bikini panties in the thinnest nylon fabric. The string was literally a string as it was a nylon covered string of stretchy material.

Just picking a pair up from the display table was a sensual delight as they were made from a mere whisper of fabric. The overhead lighting in the store caused the fabric to be almost transparent as I could see my fingers through the material.

Just imagining wearing something so light and thin caused my lower lips to swell.

The colors were red, white and blue, and I purchased all three.

Once I got home I closed the door to my bedroom trying one of the pair on. I was too intimidated to try them on at the store as I could only imagine the sales woman thinking, "slut" as I showed her my selection and headed into the dressing rooms.

I couldn't believe how tiny they were as the little triangle in front barely covered my pubis.

The amount of skin that was uncovered between my navel and the top of my panties was quite a bit more than I was used to.

The string sides cut ever so slightly into my hips stretching the thin fabric so it fit snugly across my bottom barely covering my 19 year old cheeks.

Once I was done trying on all three I quickly stuffed them in the very bottom of my underwear drawer knowing that my days of having my mother wash my clothes were over.

As I recalled how I felt whenever I wore them, I realized this was when my "moods" began. I would always feel super sexy, along with very sexually charged.

Is it just possible that my series of panty perils is my own karma asserting itself for being such a tease when I was younger?

Remembering all of this in such vivid detail was a bit overwhelming. I hadn't really felt so sexually alive or desirable since my children were born.

My inner wanton sex goddess had been dormant until the morning that my skirt tore off at the playground, thus beginning this series of adventures. (Please read The Panty Perils of Me 1)

There is no doubt that my series of panty perils had brought the 19 year old me out of hibernation.

No wonder my "moods" were so frequent now.

As I sat in my car remembering my first 'sexy' panties, I knew that I needed to find a pair just like them.

And I knew just the place to look.

My plan to start behaving responsibly hadn't survived for longer than 20 minutes.

I drove to a small lingerie boutique that I frequented regularly. In fact, I thought that I should bring Professor Eric here as I walked in the door.

Right on the first display table was a royal blue pair of string bikini panties.

Does karma play a role in lingerie as well?

I went right to them and held them up. They were perfect. The string sides were literally stretchy strings covered in blue nylon. They connected a small triangle of blue nylon that would barely cover my trimmed mound with a little larger triangle of blue nylon that would also barely cover my derriere.

And just like my original pair there was no additional lining in the crotch, allowing my intimate area to essentially be front and center to all tactile sensations.

When I was 19 and discovered my red, white, and blue pair, I reveled in how thin the nylon fabric was. My kernel would react to everything that I pushed my crotch against.

Even if I was wearing jeans, I could get off by humping a table edge.

In high school I would purposely lean against a desk pushing my pubis into the edge just to feel the sensations invade my awakening kitty.

These memories just kept coming and my need to act out was coming with them.

Acting responsibly was already in the past tense as I held the delicate two triangle creation in my hand.

I took the size small, waving to the owner as I walked to the dressing room.

Off came everything that I had on below my waist and I stepped into this tiny blue nylon creation.

Yes, I know that I should be trying on panties over my panties, but just like when I was 19, I needed to feel the barely there fabric against my skin.

I just knew that they would fit.

As I pulled the strings up to about 4 inches below my hip bones, I let out a long exhale of pure satisfaction.

They were perfect. I lightly rubbed two fingers across my lower lips and just as it had so many years ago, my entire body came alive.

Looking in the mirror, I was no longer 42 years old, but 19 again wearing my favorite pair of panties underneath an extremely short mini skirt.

There was no doubt that I wanted to feel sexy and vibrant again.

Everything about this party was going to test my limits for proper conduct and decorum. Hell, why am I kidding myself?

The wanton 19 year old sex goddess inside of me had been released from bondage and now she wanted to play.

I kept the panties on, handing the price tag to my friend, telling her to order every color in my size.

All of the way home, my entire body pulsed with sexual energy.

I only had 24 hours before the party to calm down and hoped that it would be enough time.

Deep down I wanted to feel this way for the rest of my life.

The Party

Friday night arrived. I had on my 90's outfit and the need to tease.

Harold (Mr. Lawrence) drove into my driveway and I quickly exited my house so none of my neighbors would notice my attire or escort for the evening.

I opened the door and slid into the seat. If I hadn't known already, the look on Harold's face told me all that I needed to know as to how short my skirt was.

I remembered the same look when I was similarly dressed so many years ago.

Harold was in a black shirt and very tight black jeans that displayed his physical reaction to my short skirt quite effectively.

Another sight that I was used to seeing long ago.

We drove to the club with Harold taking every opportunity to look over at my legs as my skirt extended no more than a couple of inches past my crotch.

I was getting wet just from the visual attention that he was giving me.

This evening I may have had a 40 year old body, but my mind was only 19 and it wanted to play.

We pulled into the driveway in front of the clubhouse and a valet opened my door. There was no way for me to not give him a full view of my blue nylon covered crotch so I didn't even bother to be discreet.

As I slid my right leg out of the door, my skirt slid up the remaining two inches and I could feel the night air say hello to my kitty.

I wanted to squeeze my thighs together and rub them up and down, but stopped myself.

It was a little early in the evening to be masturbating particularly in front of such a young man.

I looked into the valet's eyes as his eyes looked down at my crotch and enjoyed watching his lips curl up in a smug look of satisfaction.

He had no idea that I was letting him see up my skirt on purpose.

As I slid out of the seat my royal blue crotch came fully into view and the valet's jaw dropped.

I can only imagine what stories he would be sharing with his friends regarding my crotch.

I loved to tease when I was young, and had no idea how much more exciting it was at 42.

Now I was really getting wet.

Any sense of being prim and proper had been left behind in the lingerie store's dressing room.

Harold came around and joined me oblivious to the valet's voyeur instincts and escorted me into the club.

The party room was made out to look like a 90's rock club with a bar on one end and a deejay and his music equipment on the other.

Harold introduced me around to his various clients and other members of the club. It was quite amusing to see so many couples in their 40's and 50's dressed to look like aging rock stars and groupies.

I was one of the few women that had opted to wear a micro mini as most had on skin tight black,white, or red lycra pants. All with coordinating ankle boots similar to mine.

Hair was big and teased and most of the men were wearing wigs that might have been borrowed from their wives, but they served the purpose.

It was fun to see the upper class of the city out to have some fun.

The evening went very well and I was probably asked to dance by most every man in the room. The music along with two hands clutching my bottom brought back more memories of my early 20's.

By the end of the evening the front hem of my skirt had a permanent V-shaped fold in it as so many of my dance partners had ground their erections into me.

It didn't seem to matter whether the music was fast or slow as virtually all of us women with decent figures were the recipients of groping hands and grinding penises.

I remember my school dances to be very similar until the nuns forced all of us young couples to separate.

Many of the men remembered me from the charity auction and asked me how my day of service had gone with Mr. Abromsky.

I responded as vaguely as possible although I am sure that they would have enjoyed my story of being the center of a circle jerk.

Other than the aforementioned groping and grinding, Harold was the perfect gentlemen for the evening. After all it wasn't like he was the only one doing it.

And if truth be told, I enjoyed the attention that I was receiving and how it made me feel i.e. just like when I was 19.

An elderly and very distinguished gentlemen stood off to the side of the room for most of the evening staring at me. It wasn't the kind of stare that would make you uncomfortable. It felt more like a compliment.

I gave him a smile and he nodded at me.

He wasn't dressed for the party as he was wearing a beautifully tailored deep blue check patterned dress shirt and a pair of black silk trousers.

I found myself looking at him just as much as he was looking at me.

I liked everything about him and didn't even know him.

I would guess that he was in his early 60's, tall and lean with thinning gray hair. His face had a very sharp jaw line along with two gorgeous hazel eyes that made my stomach quiver as well as another part of my anatomy.

He was very comfortable being the only one in the room without a costume and I could tell that all of the other members respected him as they all took the time to say 'hello.'

After what seemed forever, Harold finally took me over to him and introduced me. His last name was Van der Waal and he was the founding member of the club.

I was comfortable with him immediately and hoped that our paths would cross again very soon.

I didn't realize at the time that they would cross later in the same evening.

By the time the evening ended I was fully in my mood.

The combination of my outfit, my underwear, the music, and the memories of my younger years all served to create the perfect formula for acting out.

Every time I visited the bathroom, the visage of a 42 year old woman looked back at me in the mirror, but all I saw was a 19 year old looking to have some fun.

We left the club and the same valet brought our car to us making sure to get out of the driver's seat and around to the passenger side before I opened the door for myself.

It seems that one good view up my skirt deserved another, so as before my blue nylon covered crotch was front and center and with the newly added V-shaped fold in the front of my denim skirt he saw all of the way to the top elastic.

It made me feel so deliciously naughty to let him stare up my skirt.

I even parted my legs just enough to show him my developing camel toe.

I was in full tease mode.

The vibrations were intensifying and I was enjoying every shake, rattle, and roll.

I should have asked Harold to take me home, but I was beyond playing it safe.

I settled into the front seat applying my seatbelt, which only served to exaggerate the front fold in my skirt.

Harold noticed my uncovered crotch the moment he climbed into the driver's seat. His eyes told me, although his smile told me much more.

He was aching for some alone time with me and with the mood that I was in I was willing to play.

After all, he had invited me to one of the most fun evenings that I had experienced in a long time and had introduced me to Mr. Van der Waal, who I couldn't stop thinking about.

Doesn't all of that deserve a little play time?

We drove to a nearby park, which normally would have caused me some anxiety, but not on this particular night.

I was so completely lost in my memories, that it only seemed natural to find a secluded parking lot in order to thank my date for the wonderful evening.

With Harold's hand on my upper thigh, I leaned over and placed my own hand directly on the tent formed in the front of his pants.

He slid his hand up my bare leg towards the crotch of my panties as I undid his belt and unzipped his pants.

While he continued to grope between my parted legs, causing my lower lips to start glistening, I pulled his pants down his legs to see the top three inches of his erection sticking out of a pair of my lilac panties. The very same pair that I had given to his son, Arnold, after our first or was it our second date.

Well, well, like father like son, I thought to myself, bringing me back to my current age.

It was akin to having a bucket of ice cold water thrown in my face as well as between my legs. But I couldn't help but stare at Harold's full erection barely encased in my lilac panties.

It was so weird and sexy all at the same time.

Yes, I loved to have his son Arnold wearing my panties, but this was a grown man, not a young, impressionable 19 year old.

His testicles and lower shaft completely filled the front and could be seen quite clearly as the thin nylon material hugged every bulge.

It wasn't long before the cold water effect vanished as I continued to stare between his legs and I found my hand rubbing the front of my panties i.e. the ones currently being worn by Mr. Lawrence, eliciting a very satisfied and sensual moan from his lips.

I realized right then and there that I really like to see my panties being worn by a man, or at least the two men from the same family.

I closed my hand around his lower shaft wrapping the thin nylon material around his erection and began to slide it up and own.

I was using the material of my panties to get him off.

Harold moved his hand away from my crotch using the other one to locate the automatic seat control.

He tilted the back of his seat down so his pelvis was now front and center.

I continued stroking him through the slippery nylon material watching the tip of his penis ooze almost continuously.

My panties were so small on him and yet they fit perfectly.

It was so odd for me to see a pair of my panties on my date and at the same time so arousing.

Along with everything else, how could I not reward him for providing me with such an unusual and sexy vision?

After all it's just a hand job right?

I had buried his son's face in my crotch and used it to masturbate.( see The Panty Perils of Me 14), so what's the big deal about giving Dad a hand job.

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