Undeclared

There were dress pants, sports shirts, and polos in another pile. Socks and underwear made up the third pile.

With the load of athletic wear started, I explored the rest of the house to learn more about my mysterious neighbor. His style was modern and masculine. The rooms were decorated simply and had a utilitarian feel to them. Very little of sentiment could be found except for pictures and trophies from his collegiate and coaching years.

His house wasn't messy or dirty. If anything, it showed the signs of neglect one would expect from someone too busy to notice the details. Dust covered many surfaces. His refrigerator had expired food and didn't appear to have been wiped down in a long time, if ever. The microwave needed to be cleaned. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink.

I made short work of it all as I waited for the washing machine to finish.

After the second load was started, I cleaned his guest bathroom and master bathroom. I stripped his bed and added the sheets and pillow cases to the laundry pile. I dusted the trophies on his shelves and other obvious surfaces.

His house smelled masculine and slightly musky. I ran back across the circle to get my white linen carpet refresher. I sprinkled it around his carpeted floors and vacuumed as the first load finished drying. The house now smelled clean and fresh.

I folded the athletic wear and carried it to his bedroom. I didn't know where he kept it but I found space for it in his top dresser drawer. When the shirts and dress pants were done, I ironed them and hung them in his closet. I folded his socks and underwear and added them to the rest I found in the bottom dresser drawer.

With the last load finished, I dressed his bed with fresh sheets and pillow cases.

I realized it was late. I had spent the entire day there and he would be home within the next hour.

I collected my things before I scurried across the street to the safety of my home. It was another scorching hot day and the concrete burned my feet as I tip-toed across the road.

The sound of his truck pulling into his driveway confirmed that I had made my exit not a moment too soon. I watched from the window as he pulled into his garage and went inside.

I stared out of the window lost in thought. I began to agonize about the decision put before me by my mother. Victoria's reassuring words echoed in my mind and lifted my spirits. She was always right and she must be right about this too. I put the thought out of my mind for the time being.

Then I remembered the gifts she left me. A soft pair of panties would make me feel better again.

As I turned toward my dresser, I saw movement in the street. Coach was crossing the road. My heart began to pound and, for a moment, I held my breath.

There was a heavy knock on the door. I froze.

"I went too far," I thought to myself. I was just supposed to do his laundry. I couldn't help myself though. I just started cleaning one thing, then another.

I was going to pretend I wasn't there and he would go away.

There was another knock at the door. He wasn't going away.

I summoned my courage and opened the door.

"Hi, Coach," I said nervously to his feet.

"You did all that yourself?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir," I said softly as I squinted up to his chest.

There was a pause that felt like an eternity. I was about to apologize when suddenly he broke the silence.

"I'm gonna go for a swim before I head to the gym tonight. Come over in about 10 minutes. I'll leave the gate open," he said.

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked down the driveway. I stood in the doorway and watched him leave. I couldn't even summon a response.

"I don't know how to swim. I don't even own a swimsuit," I thought to myself.

I sighed heavily, closed the door, and paced nervously as I thought about how I could get out of this... invitation? It didn't sound like an invitation. He wasn't rude but it did sound more like an order than an invitation.

I decided the polite thing would be to accept the invitation and visit briefly but explain that I don't swim. I would be quick about it and then I would excuse myself.

Ten minutes passed and I crossed the circle. Music was playing from his back yard and the gate to his fence was open. I let myself in and walked around to the back of his house.

He stepped out onto the patio as I reached the pool. He was shirtless and wearing short, yellow swim trunks that contrasted against his dark almond skin tone. His thighs were thick and muscular just like the rest of his body. Veins coursed along his arms and legs, and he glistened from the oil he was applying to his torso.

"Where's your swimsuit?" he asked.

"Uh, I...I, uh, don't have one," I stammered.

"Oh, I bet I have something you can wear. Come on," he ordered as he went back inside through the sliding doors.

My voice was caught in my throat. I wanted to tell him I couldn't swim, but I could find the words. I just followed him.

He appeared from a back room with a large pair of shorts that two of me could have shared. I thought he must be joking.

"I don't think this will fit, Coach," I said apologetically.

"Yah, one sec. I think I have something smaller," he said.

He vanished into another room. It looked like it was a guest bedroom. I didn't explore that room when I was there in the morning. The door had been closed. He reappeared with a wad of cloth in one fist that he tossed to me.

I caught it as it hit my chest.

"That should fit perfectly. Put that on," he instructed as he walked back out toward the pool.

I unfolded the small garment and my mouth dropped open. In my hands, I held a small pair of swim briefs. They were peach colored with a white hibiscus pattern. The tag read "Boys M" but they appeared to be little more than panties.

I reluctantly went to the bathroom and changed. They certainly fit but I felt very insecure standing in his bathroom in them. I couldn't find the courage to walk out to the pool.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I was about to change back into my clothes when there was a knock at the door. I was startled.

"They fit? Let me see," Coach said through the door.

"Oh god, no. What am I doing here?" I thought to myself with dreadful panic.

I felt trapped in the bathroom and knew there was no way out of this awkward situation.

I slowly opened the door with my arms clasped down by my waist. He stood over me in the doorframe and looked me over.

"Yea, those fit. Those fit nice. Oh, there's still a tag on them. One sec," he said.

He returned a moment later with scissors. His thick index and middle finger slid past the front waistband and pulled the briefs away from my hips. I felt the cool air rush down between my legs and knew I was completely exposed to him.

Mortified, I gasped softly. My body was rigid.

I could only think about the disparaging comments Victoria would make about my size. She seemed to enjoy the emasculation the most. It had become part of her ritual during "panty-time". I had become nearly immune to her barbs over the years, but this was a different level of embarrassment.

I was humiliated and I wanted to escape. I felt myself becoming upset. I wasn't about to cry in front of Coach D though. I would never be able to look at him again.

With a quick motion he snipped the string to the tag and let the elastic waist snap back against my skin.

"Alright, come on," he said.

I followed him out to the pool. It was one of the hottest days of the summer and I could immediately feel the sun kissing my skin.

"Um, Coach? Do you have any sunscreen?" I asked.

"I got you," he said as he returned from a pool lounger with a white bottle of lotion.

I reached out for it. But, instead of handing it to me, he opened the top and squirted a large puddle of coconut scented lotion into his palms. Rubbing his hand together, he walked behind me and then I felt his massive hands on my small, round shoulders. The weight of his hands buckled my knees momentarily and I caught my balance.

He worked lotion down my back and slid his hands down just slightly past the waist band of the swim briefs.

My body became tense and I held my breath. His hands stopped at the top of my butt and then slid around to my hips under the waistband of the swim briefs. As he pulled his out, I felt the briefs ride up between my ass. Then he gave me a sharp smack on the bottom.

It caught me off-guard and I released an embarrassing squeal.

"There ya go, baby. You can do the rest now," he said as he walked around me to wipe his hands on his towel. "Huh, maybe those are a just a little tight after all. That's okay, they look good on ya," he said looking at my briefs with amusement.

I looked down as I applied lotion to my chest and arms. I was poking out into the soft peach fabric.

"I wish I had not answered the door," I thought to myself.

He dove into the pool at the deep end. I quickly entered the shallow end by way of the stairs. The quicker I was under the water, the quicker my humiliation would end.

I watched with envy as he dove and swam. He moved through the water like a dolphin. I sat on the stairs like a child.

After a while, he noticed that I hadn't moved into the pool.

"Can you swim?" he asked.

"No. no, sir. I...I never learned," I said awkwardly.

"Oh, we'll fix that. Come here," he said.

He approached me and gestured for me to stand. I rose to my feet in front of him. He grasped my hips with his hands and pulled me toward him as he walked backwards toward the deep end.

I felt the water climbing toward my chin. It was only at the top of his stomach. I became tense as the water lapped at my mouth.

"Relax, baby. I got you. You're not gonna drown. Nice and easy," he reassured.

I was on my toes fighting to keep the water from my mouth. He spun me around in a quick motion and pulled me back against him. With his right hand on my butt, lifted me horizontal.

My body stiffened and I started to say, "I don't think I can..."

He whispered in my ear, "Breathe. Slowly, in and out. Rest your head back on my shoulder and let your legs float up."

His right hand supported my butt as he held me up in the water. I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder. I was floating on my back.

"Breathe," he reminded me with another whisper.

He moved his hands out to my elbows and spread my arms out.

"Just float. You feel that?" he asked.

I was light and buoyant. It felt good.

"I'm floating!" I said excitedly.

He walked me around the pool slowly and I began to relax.

The moment was interrupted by an alarm on his phone. I raised my head a little to see from where the sound was coming. I noticed that my humiliation was again on display. I was aroused and proudly but meagerly poking straight up. The ripples of the pool water lapped at it mockingly.

There was no doubt he saw it. There was no hiding it in my current position.

The humiliation ended when he announced it was time for him to leave and sat me down in the shallow water.

"We'll work on it some more next time," he said. "Come dry off."

He climbed out of the water from the side of the pool. His muscular back rippled with beads of water streaming down his oiled skin. I climbed out by the stairs and walked around to meet him by the towels.

His wet, yellow trunks were clinging to his body. He was not modest or meager by any means. His anatomy was clearly visible. The yellow trunks were nearly transparent where they were clinging to his dark skin. I could see he was positioned sideways, running along the lining of his trunks toward his right hip.

I averted my eyes quickly when I realized I was staring.

I toweled off and followed him inside where I changed back into my clothes in the guest bathroom. I left the swim briefs in the laundry room.

The sound of his electric toothbrush was coming from the master bathroom.

"Thank you for the lesson, Coach," I shouted over his toothbrush.

The humming stopped and I heard him spit into the sink.

"See you next week," he said through the door.

The sun was setting as I carried my sandals across the street. The concrete was still warm on my soles. Once inside my house, I closed the front door, leaned back on it, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

My mind was racing. I thought back through the events of the past twenty-four hours. I cringed at the embarrassing moments. I reveled in the progress I made toward swimming. I was exhausted but I was also excited at the same time. Then I felt something different.

No, not excited. I was horny.

I hurried to my panty drawer and pulled out a cute, silk pair with a bow in the front and lettuce trim at the waist and legs. I undressed and slid them on. This was the pair that concealed my small bulge the best.

My laptop sat on the dresser still idle from the night before. I carried it to the bed and woke it up. The video I had watched the night before was still paused where I had finished watching it.

A petite auburn-haired woman was bent over a kitchen counter top in front of a muscular black man. Her ass was impaled by his large cock. His right hand held her by her hair, his left held her small waist. She was bracing herself against the edge of the counter as his hips pounded against her ass. Her screams and moans nearly drowned out the rhythmic, slapping sound. Her facial expression portrayed agony and bliss simultaneously. The bottom of her dress was lifted up on her back.

I rubbed myself through the silk as her moans grew louder. The man pulled out and quickly spun her to the ground before him. She grabbed his thick, veiny cock and jerked him to completion. Her open mouth filled with cum. She stared into the camera lustfully as she swallowed.

The scene pushed me over the edge. I squirted into the front of my panties as my legs and arms trembled.

I spent the rest of the week prancing around the house in my new panties and edging to porn on the laptop.

I avoided thinking about my mother's ultimatum the entire time.

The following Sunday morning, I stirred to the sound of the lawnmower right outside my bedroom window. As I stretched in bed, I remembered that I had fallen asleep the night before in a pair of floral Brazilian panties. I jumped up and quickly pulled a pair of jogging shorts over them.

Peaking out the window, I saw Coach pushing the mower across the yard.

It was another hot day and he was already shirtless. He didn't seem to mind the oppressive heat.

I cleaned up the scene from my edging session the night before. I returned my laptop to the nightstand, straightened the comforter, and tucked my panties into the bottom of the clothes bin.

I quickly washed my pink dildo in the bathroom sink.

Not long after I was discovered by Victoria, I found the dildo in her panty drawer on day when I was home alone. I was fascinated by it. I held it for only a moment before I put it back.

Over the course of a few weeks, my curiosity would grow until finally I became bold and "borrowed" it.

I never returned it.

She didn't ever mentioned it, but of course she knew where it went. I was naïve to think otherwise.

I would occasionally find bottles of lubricant in the same drawer. I would "borrow" those bottles too. As one bottle ran low, another would appear in the drawer.

The first time I played with my new-found toy, I couldn't imagine how the girls in the videos were able to take those men inside them. My body resisted any attempt at penetration.

It seemed impossible.

I realized that I had been too ambitious. I had to work up to it. I started slowly by using my fingers. I began with my middle finger and then added my index finger over time. Eventually, I was able to work the pink toy inside me. It was strange, but somehow I knew that I would enjoy it. The first time my body gave way to it, my intuition was validated.

Whenever I had the house to myself, I would rush to my drawer and retrieve it. On particularly hot nights, I would use it as I laid in bed regardless who was home. And, In the morning, I would sneak into the bathroom to clean it. It became my preferred way to masturbate.

The lawnmower sound moved to the back yard as I finished cleaning up the bedroom scene.

Then, I filled a glass of iced tea and carried it out to him.

As he came back around with the mower, he saw me standing on the patio. He stopped the mower as he passed and took the glass I held out to him. I looked up at his thick neck as he gulped it down. He pulled his shirt out of his waistband and wiped his mouth and face.

"I'll be done in about thirty minutes. Come over in forty. I'll put your swimsuit in the bathroom," he said as he handed the glass back.

He started the mower and continued across the lawn. I went inside and took a quick morning shower.

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail this time. I had not expected to swim last week and my loose hair was a mess.

When I stepped out of the shower, I couldn't hear the lawnmower engine. Coach was gone.

I put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and darted across the street. I entered his house through his open garage and called out, "Hello?"

Music was coming from the pool. Through the sliding door, I saw him swimming laps. I went to the bathroom to change into the swim briefs.

But, instead of the hibiscus print briefs, I found a pair of bubblegum colored bikini bottoms. They had strings that tied on the sides and the tag simply read, "S".

I held them up and examined them in disbelief. Minutes passed as I looked at them. I started weighing options, including running home and hiding. Then, I remembered that he got the swim briefs from the guest bedroom across the hall. I thought I might be able to find the hibiscus briefs there.

As I reached for the doorknob, I heard a knock and jumped.

"How do they look?" his voice vibrated through the door.

"I, uh, umm, did you leave a pink swimsuit for me?" I asked meekly, hoping this was an accident.

"Yah, the other pair are dirty. Put those on. I'll be by the pool," he said.

I held them up and stared incredulously. I felt trapped again.

The fabric of what I determined was the back was even smaller than the fabric in the front.

I took a deep breath in, summoned my courage, and undressed. Then, I pulled the bikini bottom up between my thighs and tied the strings on both sides. The bows sat right above my hips. The back wedge rode up between my cheeks. The small triangle in front provided just enough fabric to keep me covered.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I thought, "He knows about my panties. He's humiliating me."

I felt the anxiety and humiliation began to swell and my lip trembled. Wearing panties for Victoria in the privacy of our home was something to which I had almost become comfortable. But now, I was standing in my neighbors house in a thong bikini. My arms and legs were cold and my palms were clammy.

Then, I thought, "Of course he knows. It's so obvious, and yet he still invited me over."

I convinced myself that this was no different that wearing them for Victoria. I wiped the moisture from my eyes and walked out to the pool with apprehension.

He hopped out of the water as I stepped onto the patio.

"That's a pretty color on you," he said as he picked up the bottle of sunscreen.

Knowing what he was about to do, I bit my bottom lip anxiously as he walked around me. I felt exposed from behind. The thong wedge up high and my round bubble butt was on display. I heard the lotion squirt to his palms and a wet sound as he rubbed them together.

His hands moved slowly across my pail, porcelain skin. He was more deliberate with the application this week. When he got to my butt, he didn't stop this time. He squirted more lotion into his palms and kneaded it into my round cheeks. His large hands lifted and spread my cheeks as he worked the coconut scent into my skin.