tagFetishThe Price of His Panties

The Price of His Panties


About the same time I discovered the sheer ecstasy that I could achieve from jerking off I began a fascination with panties, women's panties, that has now cost me dearly. As a young man I would fetch the Sears or Penney's catalogue, snatch some panties from the hamper, and go into the bathroom where, behind a locked door I would stroke myself endlessly while looking at the pictures of women in their panties.

I would be rewarded by a powerful orgasm while my eyes were focused on a picture of a model in bra and panties and my cock was being stimulated with the sensation of nylon. I now realize that I reinforced this adolescent fascination with women's underwear until it became a full-fledged fetish.

But, I did not learn that word or first hear it until a few weeks after my young marriage at the age of 20. It was my wife, Monica, who first used the word with me and showed me a section in one of her Psychology books. She was attending college days while I worked nights. She explained to me that I had a panty fetish and she eventually came to use my fetish to control and manipulate me. If you asked her, she would say that she gave me what I wanted in order to get what she wanted.

While we were dating I had continued my fascination with panties, but I had kept it secret from her. I don't think that she realized, why I would be in little hurry to remove her panties as I lingered in running my hands over her nylon-encased ass or I rubbed the crotch of her panties until they were soaking wet, that her panties were as much an object of my attention and lust as her pussy.

When we were dating I would rub her through her panties until a wet spot would shine through her bikinis or hipsters, then I would bury my face between her legs and nuzzle against her wet panties.

I began to associate the scent of pussy with the image of panties. Even then she would prefer that I stayed there between her legs and suck her off rather than to have me fuck her. I thought it was because she was so worried about getting pregnant, in spite of the pill. But now I know, she has told me, it was because I would ejaculate shortly after I entered her, and my cock...well, let's just say it's not big. Now I know that I was unable to satisfy her with my cock, only with my mouth and tongue.

I had taken pairs of hers and each of her two female roommates' panties from the hamper in their apartment more than once, and I used them to masturbate daily, sometimes more than once a day. I had even bought my own first pairs of panties and I would secretly wear them to work under my jeans.

But it was when we got married and began living together that my panty fetish started to get me into the dilemma that I am in today. I had never shared a closet or a set of dresser drawers with a woman before, let alone a bedroom and a bed. I found myself overwhelmed with the femininity she brought into my life. For the first time I was sleeping on sheets and pillow cases with floral patterns, her jewelry was scattered about the bureau top, and her clothes...I was fascinated with her clothes. Since I would arrive home from my night shift and the apartment would be empty as she would have already left for school most days, I would find myself unable to sleep and I spent many mornings going through her clothes.

I am embarrassed to admit it now, but I have confessed this to her and she has forgiven me. I bet I took out every skirt, dress, blouse, top, and pair of slacks from the closet and touched them, examined them, even sniffed traces of her femininity on them. But the dresser drawer was my undoing. Never before had I shared a bureau that had a drawer full of such exciting things.

There were panties of virtually every pastel, some with floral patterns, several in black, and a few in white. Most were nylon, a few were cotton, and a few more were lace. Most were hipsters, some were bikinis. And she had several panty girdles—omg—I loved to touch them. They were just like the ones that the models wore in the catalogues. Then there were her bras. I was fascinated with her bras. One of the things that had attracted me to her was her large breasts. I remember the bras in that drawer with tags that said 38DD. I would fill one of her bra cups with nylon panties, place my cock in, and jerk off.

I would tell myself that I was fucking panties and fucking a bra. Within weeks I had tried on every pair of panties, every bra, every panty girdle, and many pairs of her pantyhose.

I know now that I was naïve to think that Monica wouldn't notice. I would wash out panties that had evidence of my cum, and I tried to be careful to put everything back just as I found it.

By the time Monica decided to take advantage of my fetish, she had known for some time that I was playing with her underwear while she was gone. Then one day in the midst of foreplay I removed her panties from her, a white nylon fuller-cut style than she usually wore; I removed them from her and slipped them up over my own legs and up over my erection. These panties had just turned me on so much I just wanted them on me.

At first she laughed, then she noted my excitement, and she evidently decided that this would be the time to have "the talk." She put a hand on my engorged cock and rubbed it gently through the nylon. "Look at me," she said softly, "You really have a thing for panties, don't you?"

I froze; busted, I even began to lose my erection. I looked away.

"It's okay, honey. Lots of guys have a thing for women's underwear. I've been learning about it in class. There is something called a fetish. Arousal patterns can become attached to inanimate objects like articles of clothing. I've known for a while now that you have a panty fetish."

She continued to stroke me and my cock stiffened again under her touch and even at the mention of the word panty.

"I want you to be honest with me, honey. We've only been married a few weeks, and we will be together for a long time. Are you sexually aroused by women's underwear?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"All ladies unmentionables or just panties?" she asked in a kind and curious tone.

"Well, more panties than the rest, but, yes, I am fascinated by all types of women's underwear," I told her as though I was revealing state secrets.

"Have you been wearing my underwear when I'm not home?" she asked.

"Yes, Monica. Sorry, I ..."

"Don't worry, baby. It's okay. It's exciting for you and you are home alone a lot. You're probably masturbating, too, huh?" she asked without judgment.

She got up from the bed and went to the dresser drawer where she removed several panties and some bras and returned to the bed. She held them up in front of me as I lay with my head on the pillow and she sat facing me. "Have you worn this? And this? And this?" she asked as she held up each feminine item in turn.

"Yes, Monica. I have worn all of them."

Then she slipped my swollen cock out of the panties of hers that I was wearing and she began to masturbate me in earnest with one of the panties she held in her hand. "I am going to give you a choice. Would you like to cum in my panties or in my pussy?"

Now, years later, in retrospect, I realize that I should have more carefully considered my answer. At the time I was so turned on by having this open discussion about my panty "thing" and her seeming acceptance, and her stroking me with a silky peach pair of her hipsters with the panties she had been wearing only moments earlier pulled to just below my balls, I said the first thing that came to mind. "Your panties. I want to cum in your panties."

She increased the pace and began to taunt me, "Panty boy, panty boy, like to play with your wive's panties and bras. I am married to a panty boy." I came into the panties in her hand with a loud grunt and my entire body bucked on the bed. She let the sensation linger, then tossed the drenched panties aside and said, quite firmly, "Now between my legs panty boy and satisfy me with your tongue."

Spent, but grateful; now embarrassed and not wanting to disappoint her; libido gone, but wanting to reciprocate; I crawled between her legs and ate her pussy like it was my last meal. As she screamed out in orgasmic pleasure I did not then realize that this encounter this particular Saturday evening was about to set the course for our marriage. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning I felt a bit sheepish as we stirred awake. We both made our trips to the bathroom then back to bed for a morning cuddle.

"How's my panty boy this morning?" Monica asked with a grin while reaching under the sheet to touch my flaccid penis.

"I'm good, I guess; just a little embarrassed about your knowing my secret, that's all."

"Well, Mr. Panty Boy, it hasn't been such a well-kept secret. I knew when we were dating that you had a thing for my panties, and my roommies and I realized that you had stolen our panties from our hamper. Plus, I knew almost right away that you were wearing my underwear while I was gone. Some of it got stretched out, a couple pair were ripped, and there were some telltale spots," she laughed. "And your mother had a little talk with me shortly after our engagement."

"She did? About what?" I wanted to know.

"At the time it didn't seem so funny, but it seems really funny now. Your Mom came to me and told me, in strictest confidence that she was so happy that you were engaged to me, because she had wondered if you were gay. I was surprised to hear that so I asked her what made her wonder and she told me that she had discovered that you had been taking and wearing her panties. Course she didn't know, and I didn't either until I did my research that almost all male panty wearers are heterosexual, not gay. They just tend to be, like you, more submissive sexually."

I was dumbfounded that my Mom knew that I had been wearing her panties.

"So when we moved in to our apartment together, I figured that you'd be all over my panty drawer," she laughed. I felt relieved that she found humor in this and she didn't seem to be angry at all.

"I knew when I was reading about fetishes and abnormal sexuality in my psych books that some of what I was reading was describing my husband's kinky side. I don't care. It's just clothing. And I wanted to decide what I was going to do about it before I brought it up with you," she explained.

"What do you mean 'do about it?'" I asked.

"Well, from what I read in the psych books, fetishes don't go away, so I guess if we're going to be married I'm going to be married to a guy with a panty fetish. Remember last night when I gave you a choice to fuck my pussy or to fuck the pair of panties in my hand; remember what you chose? It's okay, really it is, it just confirmed for me that if I'm going to accept this idiosyncrasy about you that I will ask for what I want in return," she continued.

"Okay, I want you to get what you want. What is it that you want?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, I want there to be no secrets between us, so there will be no more sneaking around. If you want to wear something of mine, I expect that you ask. I want you to agree that I will be in charge of our sex life, that I will be in charge of what you wear when, and I will be in charge not only of my body but yours as well."

I could hear in her tone that she meant business and I was silent, but highly aroused as she continued, "What I want is that you agree that for you, a man, to wear women's things is a privilege and that such privileges must be earned. I have decided, Mr. Panty Boy, that I will be using your fetish to rule the roost, so to speak. You can have your fun, but it will be at a price. I believe it will be a fair price, mind you, but it your fetish will be secondary to my pleasure and the way I want things to be.. Comprende?"

I hesitated, "I'm, ahh, I'm not sure exactly what you mean."

"Well, I've been considering my options ever since we moved in together and I noticed that you play with my underwear when I'm not around like you are a little kid with a new Lego set. Course the difference is that it seems like you are doing a considerable amount of jerking off. So, I'm proposing that I take charge of your fetish, that we both benefit by that as I will use it to motivate you, and I will teach you how to satisfy me sexually," she said as she took my hand and brought it to her crotch.

"You mean you haven't been satisfied, I thought..."

"I know you thought, and I haven't been entirely honest either. I've been trying to protect your male ego, but really your cock doesn't get me off. It's on the small side and I like something bigger, something that I feel all the way to the end of my pussy; and, admit it honey, you cum pretty quickly. At bedtime after you go to work I've been taking out my vibrator most nights and getting myself off. I want to teach you how to use it, and to use, umm, other methods to stimulate me. I will teach you, and actually you are already pretty good at eating pussy," she paused for effect and made sure I was paying attention.

I was, so she continued, "I plan to motivate you to be the best you can be. We're just going to take your cock out of the equation. We will use it for rewards. You do find it rewarding to have it stroked and to ejaculate, don't you dear?"

"Yes, of course, but Monica, I can learn to be a better lover. I want to be able to fuck your pussy," I whined.

"You can either fuck panties or pussy, not both. And panties, if you earn them, you can take with you wherever you go. And you will get plenty of pussy. You'll just be eating it instead of fucking it. Anyway, enough said for now. I have a list of questions I'd like you to answer in writing before I leave for school in the morning. When you hand me your answers I will hand you a proposed agreement I've prepared. Agreed?"

"I guess so, sure, I'll answer your questions and I'll consider your proposal. Might be fun," I responded.

"I think it will be. Now just for fun you may go to my drawer and pick out a pair of panties to wear today. Unless, that is, that you have a pair of your own panties that you'd prefer," she laughed.

We went about our usual activities that day, took care of some chores, visited with some friends, ran some errands, and prepared a simple dinner together. All the while I was acutely aware of the sensation of her just slightly too tight purple nylon hipsters. Course she wasn't about to let me forget as she put her hand on my butt as we walked through the grocery store, and even referred to me as "PB" in front of our friends who didn't seem to notice. At dinner Monica told me that she had sent me a word document attachment to my personal email that contained a list of questions,

"Since you don't have to go to work tonight I want these answered by the time I leave for school in the morning. We will discuss your answers and finalize my proposal tomorrow evening," she hesitated briefly, then continued, "Oh yes, and just to show you that I mean business about using your fetish to motivate you, here are the panties that I've been wearing all day. You can use them anyway you'd like—just don't cum until we've finalized our agreement."

She reached under the table, hiked up her skirt, scooted down her panties, and handed them to me. "I know you like to sniff them. Don't pretend you don't," and she held the crotch to my nose. "Now get to it...I'm going to the bedroom to read and watch TV. You stay here and get my questions answered.

I could tell from her tone that this was not open for debate so I sat down with my laptop, opened the attachment, and began to answer them. Here is the list:

"When did you first wear panties?

Were they your mother's?

List all the women whose panties you have worn.

Did you jerk off in your mother's panties?

Did you sniff your mother's panties?

How often do you sniff my panties?

Did your mother ever catch you?

Have you ever bought your own panties?

List, in order, the items of female clothing that most

excite you.

Are you familiar with male chastity devices?

Are you familiar with penis sheaths, also sometimes known as penis extenders?

How many times a day/week do you jerk off?

Would you like to have your own panties, bras, stockings and such? What about nighties, nightgowns? Dresses, skirts, blouses?

Would you like to experience a male to female transformation—just for fun (not permanent)?

Describe your most embarrassing fantasy? Your most exciting fantasy?"

As I started to type my responses my cock swelled with excitement. As soon as Monica left the room I positioned her soiled panties over my head so that her scent was just over my nostrils and I could see the laptop screen from the leg openings. I knew I looked ridiculous, but I was buzzed with excitement as I read her questions one by one and began to reveal my most embarrassing and humiliating secrets.

I had been at it for a couple hours and when I finally emailed the completed document to Monica's personal email it was after 10 pm. When I went to the bedroom she was already sound asleep. I prepared for bed quietly taking care not to wake her. I considered whether I'd take off her panties (not from my head, those I had brought with me to put in the hamper in the bedroom), that I'd been wearing all day. I normally slept in the buff, but I decided that, given the circumstances, I had might as well wear them to bed.

I had a hard time getting to sleep. My mind kept racing with speculation about what she was going to propose. I wanted to jerk off. I was used to using masturbation as a sleeping pill. I knew it would relax me, but Monica had forbid it, and I feared waking her and her finding me cock in hand.

Eventually sleep came and when I awoke in the morning, Monica was already in the shower. When I went to the bathroom to relieve myself she commented how cute her panties were on me. When she stepped from the shower she told me to make myself erect for her while she toweled off.

"I want you aroused when you read the agreement. Today is just as important as our wedding day with the new agreement we'll have and all, don't you think honey," Monica gushed. Then she sent me off for her coffee telling me to "keep it up."

When I returned to the bedroom with her coffee the door was locked. Monica had posted a note on the door that said "I want you kneeling and erect."

I found a place to set her coffee mug and followed her instruction, needing to stroke through my panties every so often to keep my erection. After about ten minutes the door opened and I looked up to see my beautiful buxom wife totally decked out in black leather and holding a riding crop. Black fishnet stockings peeked out from her thigh-high black leather stiletto boots. She wore a leather miniskirt and a black bustier that held her ample breasts firm and full and her nipples overflowed the bra cups.

"I am Madam Monica. I presume you are Panty Pet. Are you here to serve me?"

My heart was in my throat. My cock was throbbing and if it had been bigger would have burst from the panties of hers I was wearing. "Kiss my boots, Panty Pet."

I eagerly complied. "Enough!" Then she turned, lifted her skirt, "Now kiss my ass, subby hubby."

And I buried my face between her ass cheeks. As I licked she reached behind her and tousled my hair. "I do not have class today, honey, so once we get the agreement out of the way, you may begin to serve me."

She pushed my head away from her ass. "Crawl to the bed where you may worship my pussy while I read you the agreement that you will sign." She first sat at the edge of the bed where she handed me a firm control vintage panty girdle, "Put this on while you worship me, pussy boy, I don't want any accidents. I want your little thingie uner control."

As I struggled into the tight fitting garment she instructed me to "tuck it between your legs," which I did, and she lay back on the bed, legs spread, knees in the air.

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byNancyPan© 7 comments/ 67222 views/ 35 favorites

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