I stroked my cock with the pink panties thinking of my experience in the store. I remembered Madeline looking at me. She had resembled a hungry lioness salivating over a piece of meat. That's what I was to her, a piece of meat. My own meat was rigid.
I fantasized about her full bosom and full-figured hips, about the low neckline of her dress that revealed her white bra, and about the hemline that displayed her garters. I thought about her uncrossing her legs and giving me a peek of her own panties. If I had knelt down to pick something up, perhaps she would have uncrossed her legs and showed me her panties. I imagined her wearing lacy, white French cut panties. I imagined her taking them off and stroking my body with them.
My mind flashed to my Aunt Sherrie. She had actually groped me today; that was no fantasy. She just reached out and stroked my cock through my jeans with her fingers. Did she even know what she was doing? Why didn't she just unzip my pants? Why didn't she just pull out my member and stroke me? Wouldn't that have aroused her?
I fantasized about Aunt Sherrie doing just that, running her hand into my pants and caressing my member, and then pulling me on top of her and wrapping those long sexy legs of hers around my body. I wanted to feel the warmth of her pussy around my cock. I wanted her to squeeze her legs around me, tightly.
I thought about Patti. I could have spent an entire week with her in that store. The thought of all those sensual feminine garments, and Patti in the foreground made my cock twitch. I wanted to bury my face in her panties; bury myself between her legs.
But as I fantasized about all these older women, there was one thought that kept gnawing at me. As I looked at the second pair of tap pants that Patti had bought for me, all other thoughts abandoned my head. I put down the pink panties and picked up the others, the ones that reminded me of something.
These panties were a rich baby blue, even richer that the blue panties Patti had bought for me as payment for chores so long ago. These were silk and they shimmered with life. They reminded me of something very beautiful. They were the exact color of Gail's eyes.
I held those panties in my left hand and stroked myself with my right.
Gail. Gail. Now she was all I could think about: the brilliance of her baby blue eyes, the tight angora sweater that outlined her breasts, the curve of her figure as we skated and spent out date together. Beautiful Gail.
I continued fondling my cock and thinking about this sweet, beautiful girl. I thought about her long brown hair and the way it fell over her shoulders. I imagined kissing her full lips and holding her close to my body. My thoughts of her were romantic and sensual, not outright sexual. Why?
Eventually I was so stimulated that I came right in my hand. The panties were a safe distance this time; there was no damage. I didn't take the time to put on a condom, and the semen dripped down my fingers and into my lap. I sat there for a minute or two not panicking about the mess I made; I knew I could clean it up. I just wanted to stare at those blue panties.
They're exactly the same color as her eyes.
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