Will Work for Panties11

“We are?”

“Yes, we are.”

Oh boy. That is good news.

* * *

It had been a long time since I had stepped foot in The French Boutique, the favorite lingerie shop of my Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters. Here is where they had bought so many of the sexy undergarments that they had given me as payment for jobs done around their homes, and here I stood now hand-in-hand with Patti as we looked around the store for three pairs of panties suitable for the construction job I had just completed at her house.

Of course holding hands with Patti had taken on an entirely new dimension in the past half hour. I was tempted to ask her if she had an orgasm while washing my hands, but I thought that it would be more tactful not to ask that particular question and just let myself believe that she did. Ignorance is bliss.

“Bon soir, mon ami,” Madeline, the owner of the boutique addressed Patti. “I see that after all this time you have returned with your young man. Bon, très bon.”

“Now Madeline, how many times do I have to tell you that you have the wrong idea?” Patti said to her.

“So you say, Pat-teesh. But if I do have the wrong idea then I know for sure that you have the wrong idea as well. Il est très beau. No?”

Patti actually giggled when Madeline said that, whatever it was.

This was all going over my head. I studied Spanish in high school, and I was not too good at that. What I did understand was that Madeline was giving me that hungry sort of look again. In our previous sojourn to the boutique Patti had told me that Madeline was sizing me up like a piece of meat. That explained why the hairs on the back of my neck stood up every so often. Now I felt her glare again.

“We’re just going to look around for a few minutes. Okay?” Patti said.

“Very well, Pat-teesh. You have the run of the store,” Madeline replied.

“I’ve know her for years and she always mispronounces my name,” she whispered to me. “I don’t think she can say the word ‘Patricia.’”

“Why doesn’t she just call you Patti like everyone else?”

“I think she’s trying to?” We giggled.

Patti took me over to a large display table next to a line of negligees. The table had several pairs of elaborate panties spread out on it.

“These are her top-of-the-line merchandise. See anything you like?” Patti asked me.

“Well, yeah. The problem is in trying to narrow it down,” I whispered nervously.

There were so many from which to choose. The colors were rich and vibrant shades of blue, pink, green, and red. There were panties with tassels and those without. I found myself focusing on a brand of silk panties that had different designs on them. One pair had a gold base with a combination of intricate dark blue and black designs. The color scheme turned me on; in fact my groin was stirring now and pressing out against my jeans.

“I like these, here.” I pointed them out to Patti and she picked them up.

“Yes, these are nice,” she replied.

Next my eyes caught a burgundy panty with silver and black designs. The burgundy was rich and dark, and the silver offset against the background fabric perfectly.

“I like these too,” I said as I pointed them out.

“Very nice.” She picked up those as well.

I could not decide between the last two pairs that I saw. One pair was a dark green French cut panty that had what looked like a black letter ‘V’ embossed in lace. The other was pink and had the same ‘V’ embossed in white. I liked them both, but could not decide between the two of them.

“Which ones do you prefer, Patti?”

“Well let me see. I’m a girl so I guess I like the pink ones better.” She picked them up and handed them to me.

“Yeah, I guess those are prettier,” I said. “Here, you’d better hold them,” and I pushed them back to her as if I would get the cooties or something.

“Take it easy,” she said. “It isn’t like holding them is going to give you the cooties or anything.”

Patti always seemed to have a way of reading my mind.

We shopped for about fifteen minutes before we had settled on three pairs of absolutely beautiful panties. The gold, blue, and black pair, the pink French cut panties with the embossed ‘V’ pattern, and the burgundy, silver, and black pair. All three were pairs that caught my eye, and my imagination, early.

“Are you settled there, mon ami?” Madeline asked Patti.

“Yes, we are.”

“Bon, très bon.” Madeline had an evil little smirk on her face. I spent a quick moment looking at her as she rang up the merchandise.

Madeline looked like she was in her early fifties, somewhat matronly, but quite attractive. I had once before found myself admiring how meticulously groomed she kept herself. She had perfectly styled hair and make-up; she was quite a striking woman. She was also a curvaceous woman with a full bosom and full hips; I found myself looking along the curves of her body as she talked with Patti. I may have been staring. She was everything a lingerie saleswoman should be.

“Madeleine, have you had any more luck in fixing that second fitting room in the back?” Patti asked.

“Mai non, Pat-teesh. The problem is that the workman I hire, oooh, il est un grand cochon. Comprenez?” She waved her hand in the air angrily.

“Madeline is having some labor problems,” Patti said to me.

“I see.”

“It is a simple job,” she complained. “The problem is I hire a simple man to do it,” she was animated now. “I ire a man to do some simple work and what do I get? ‘edache after ‘eadache. Eediot. I fire ‘im, but now I do not know what I am to do.” Her accent got more exaggerated as she became more upset. Her cheeks started to flush themselves red a little.

“I know where you can hire someone who is competent and trustworthy,” Patti said.

“Oh, where Pat-teesh? I am desperate to fineesh the job. I have customers come into my store, and they have to see an embarrazzing mezz like that.”

“Well, he’s right here.” Patti squeezed my arm.

“What’d you say?” I asked amazed.

“You could help out Madeline, Vincent.”

“I could?”

“Yes,” Patti turned to Madeline. “You should see the job he just finished at my house. He built two brand new rooms in the basement. I’ll bet fixing a fitting room would be no trouble for him.”

“It wouldn’t?” I asked still amazed and wondering what the hell she was doing to me.

“Are you really that good? Do you think you could ‘elp me, cherie?” Madeleine asked me. She pleaded, actually.

“Well, ah, well,” I stammered and looked back and forth between the two women.

“Of course he could. Let’s go back there and show him the job,” Patti answered for me.

Madeline guided us to the rear of the store and showed us the problem. She had all the supplies she needed, but the place was a mess.

“I come in ‘ere the other day and what do I find? That fat peeg is drinking. Le cochon. J'espère qu’ils l’accrochent.” This woman was mad.

“Everytheeng is ‘ere to do the work. I just need someone in whom I can trust; someone who will work ‘ard,” she said.

“Well, what do you say, Vincent? Are you going to help out my good friend or not?” Patti was putting me to the challenge and clasping my hand tightly. My hard-on throbbed.

What the hell did I have to lose?

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be to much work,” I answered. “If I come over after my regular job I could probably get it done in about four days. Five tops.”

“Oh cherie, I will be indebted to you. Can you start this week?”

“Sure, yeah I’ll come over tomorrow after work.”

Later that night I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, clutching the pair of burgundy and silver panties in my hand while I wore Patti’s favorite pink tap pants. I realized that I would be working for almost a week in the fitting room of a lingerie store. My erection throbbed against the silk of the tap pants.

Someone up there really likes me.

I was restless and couldn’t sleep, so to occupy my time and burn off some energy I got out of bed and walked over to the bureau that housed my prized collection. I opened the bureau and removed the newest additions, the panties that Patti had bought for me that night. I took out other pairs of panties as well and laid them out on the bed. I removed the black lace bikinis and a gold thong that Bambi had recently bought me. I took out the fancy tasseled green panties my Aunt Sherrie had recently purchased for me. I took out a pair of the older cotton panties, the ones with the little rainbows on them that had been among the very first panties my Aunt Sherrie had ever given to me.

I spread them out on the bed with the new additions and picked them up one by one to fondle and admired. I wrapped the brand new pink French cut panties with the embossed ‘V’ around my penis and stroked myself to erection. I took the gold thong and placed it over the top of my erection and began stroking. One by one I picked up a pair and used them to stimulate myself. I wanted to come, and I wanted to come quickly.

I imagined Patti naked except for a pair of virgin white tap pants, her back pressed to my chest so that I could fondle her breasts. I imagined her caressing my hands with hers and I pressed the length of my manhood into her tap pants along the crack of her ass. I imagined humping her through the soft, silky material. It wasn’t enough to make me come.

I imagined both Bambi and my Aunt Sherrie caressing my body with their panties, Bambi using a gold thong like the one I had just dropped that lay on the floor, my aunt using a silver and black panty. I imagined each of the women pulling the panties from their bodies and down their legs and rubbing the slightly damp material around my chest and back. I imagined my aunt stroking and groping at my cock, but still I did not come.

Desperate for a quick sexual release I piled the panties on the bed and prepared for a panty fuck. I wrapped my cock with a condom quickly, haphazardly, and mounted the pile. I grabbed a fistful of silk and lace and violently humped the fabric desperately trying to achieve a quick release.

I fantasized bout Madeline’s store. I closed my eyes, clinched my teeth and remembered all the varieties of feminine apparel lying about in her wonderful store. The memory of all those panties, as well as all the other feminine finery, brought forth a quick series of twitches to my cock. I knew I was close.

I tossed the blue tap pants that reminded me of Gail’s eyes on the pillow and humped the pile of panties without mercy. Trying desperately to see her face in the panties I thrust and thrust until I finally felt a warm surge of semen rise up and escape into the rubber.

Mission accomplished. I had no idea how narrow minded I was.


* * *

Mahogany. The woman liked mahogany. The whole changing room was to be fitted out with mahogany wood cabinets, mahogany paneling, even the table and chair were stained mahogany. It took me about four days after my regular job to complete the room.

The fringe benefit of course was that I got to spend so much time in a store dedicated to the sale and distribution of my favorite fetish item. It is amazing that I got any work done at all. At my regular day job I didn’t have the distraction of being surrounded by women’s underwear. However at Madeline’s store I was in a constant state of arousal. Even when I was in the back fitting room with the door closed my erection was relentless.

Each day I got home from work – the first four days in a row - I would dive into my bureau drawer and set myself up for a glorious panty fuck. I was showered and naked in about ten minutes. My family thought that I was tired from working overtime at my job, and they just let me get cleaned up for bed.

“Do you want any dinner, Vincent? I left something in the refrigerator for you.”

“No thanks, Mom. I ate a little while ago.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight mom.”

But once I was ensconced in my room, the bathrobe came off and the panty drawer came out, and was it ever stuffed. The exquisite stuff was my favorite, the panties with intricate floral designs and tassels; the panties with rich, bold colors; the panties made of smooth silk and satin with lace borders and trim.

My arousal would have lasted all night long if I didn’t do something to tame the beast. I would caress my body with a pair of deep blue panties while stroking my member with a gold thong or a black lace-trimmed panty. I would give myself slow strokes at first, but soon either I would be pumping myself furiously with my fist or humping a pile of panties on my bed while I thought about all the gloriously sensual underwear throughout the store.

I never lasted long, usually only long enough to get on a condom so as not to ruin my collection. I didn’t want to foul my most prized possessions with any semen stains. In fact my orgasms had been coming sooner and sooner. The sexual scenarios that I would fabricate in my head were getting briefer in order to accommodate my shorter staying time. Soon it was all that I could do to hold onto a fantasy of penetrating Patti in the doggie position while Bambi and my aunt caressed my body with their panties. I even entertained a fantasy about Madeline; after all it was her store. Then, bang, I was done.

It was becoming all about getting off as fast as possible. I just wanted to shoot my load.

Besides the arousal the store provided me, I also got quite an education in the retail aspect of lingerie. The clientele was diverse. A little less than half of the customers were men, most of whom would come in and skulk around before either making a purchase or leaving empty handed. A few men were on a first name basis with Madeline, and appeared to be making purchases for their wives or girlfriends; maybe both.

Several of the women who came in to shop did so with other women. In fact most of the time there would be two women shopping together, comparing items, and just generally having a good time. Again most were familiar with Madeline. She seemed to have a very loyal customer base.

On the last day of work on Madeline’s fitting room, Friday, I thought I had seen a familiar man exit the store after making a purchase. I got a brief look at him, but at the time I just couldn’t place him. It kind off bugged me for a moment because I thought I recognized him.

“Madeline, who was that guy?” I asked.

“Oh, just one of my loyal customers. So tell me, cherie, ‘ave you fineeshed the feeting room?”

“Yeah, it’s all done. I just need to clean up the mess and you’ll be in business,” I replied.

“Oh, I am so excited I cannot wait. Let’s see it now.”

Madeline had been to the new fitting room about a million times since I started working on it. She would sometimes make small talk when there were no customers to attend to, but that wasn’t often. Mostly I just got the feeling that she was leering at me, sucking on her fingernail in that sexy way she had about her. She was also always trying to make some sort of physical contact with me such as a hug or a kiss before I left for the night or by finding some excuse to brush against me. I’ll tell you the truth, I enjoyed having a sexy older woman paying so much attention to me. It was just another cause for my state of perpetual arousal.

“Oh, it is just perfect,” she complemented my work.

“Well, it’s not much different from yesterday,” I replied.

“I know, I know. But I have been wanting to get thees room fineeshed for months now. You see how much bees-ness I have in ‘ere during the week. I always need a second room. Oh, merci cherie. Merci beaucoup.” And with that she gave me a hug.

It was a big hug. A very big hug. She wrapped her arms around my body and pulled me close to her. I could feel her breasts press against my chest. The soft crush of her bosom against my body was an enjoyable feeling to say the least. Then she loosed her grip on my body and let her hands run down my back before lightly running her fingers across my butt.

“Well, gee, thanks. Glad you like it,” What the hell was I supposed to say at this point?

“Oh cherie, you have done a very good job. Please come upstairs weeth me. We must celebrate, no?” she offered.

“Well you’re busy right now. You could have customers coming in any moment, and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Nonsense cherie, it is past eight o’clock. I seldom get anyone past this time on a Friday night. Everyone is busy right now. I would not have a customer if I stayed open for another hour. Come, come upstairs and we will ‘ave a leetle celebration.”

I took a few minutes to vacuum the floor of the new fitting room and clear out my tools. I got everything from my circular saw and cordless drill to my hammer locked up in the trunk of my car and went back inside through the rear door. Madeline was just locking up the front and turning out the light. She flipped the “Closed” sign in the window and led me to a staircase in the back.

Madeline lived in the apartment above the store. Once upstairs I noticed that it had a bigger floor layout than the store downstairs; it spread out over the entire space of the building below. There were quite a few rooms and each was exquisitely furnished. I guessed that the lingerie business was good.

“Quite a place you have here,” I complimented her on her apartment.

“Oh, thank-you cherie. Actually I own the ‘ole building,” she explained.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. This one and a few others. My ‘usband was in real estate for many years. I am quite comfortable.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I said.

“Oh, I married several years ago. He was an older man, and he ‘as been gone for some years now.”

I didn’t know whether she was telling me that her husband died or walked out, and I thought the tactful thing to do was not ask and just leave that part of the conversation where it was.

“Please, come and clean up,” she said. “Clean up and we shall ‘ave our celebration. I ‘ave a bottle chilled just right. Clean up and ‘ave yourself a glass,” she offered.

“I don’t know, I probably shouldn’t be drinking anything.”

“Nonsense, a man can ‘ave a glass of champagne. I will ‘ave none of it. You will clean up,” she said, “and we will ‘ave a leetle something.”

I complied. Even if I wasn’t technically old enough to drink yet – just a few weeks shy of my twenty-first birthday actually, it had been a long week and I guessed I deserved it. I worked hard after all.

I washed up in her bathroom then returned to her living room. Madeline called to me.

“Vincent, just ‘ave a seat and I will be back.”

“Sure, anything you say,” I said as I emerged from the bathroom and entered her living room.

The room was furnished with elegant French period furniture. I sat on a sofa with a high back and intricate wooden designs. The carpenter in me admired the fine workmanship. In fact there was nothing cheap or flimsy about this place. The wallpaper was expensive, the mantle and hearth of the fireplace were hand-carved, the furniture was all either imported or antique.

Madeline had several paintings hanging on the walls of the room. One was a portrait of a woman reclining on a chaise lounge. Her hair was black and her skin was fair. She was nude from the waist up, but she wore a white robe or gown that covered her waist to her knees.

Another painting showed several sailboats out on a lake at the foot of a mountain. It was a fuzzy painting without the detail of the portrait, and the pant used was comprised mostly of pastels. It hung above the mantle of the fireplace.

“’ere we are cherie,” she said as she came back into the room holding a magnum of champagne and two flutes. “I ‘ave been saving this bottle for a special occasion.” With that she popped the cork from the bottle.

More Fetish Stories Please Visit

http://collctedfetishstories.blogspot.com

More Blogs Please Visit

http://moreblogsss.blogspot.com
Submitted by : Anonymous
(Do You Like This Story? Post Your Comments Please.)
Disclaimer: All posted stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.