A Secret for Two

"I'm gonna blow," he warned, romantically.

I tossed my head back to try to watch Chris cum in the mirror, and this time I saw Bill stood on the landing, watching us fuck. He was right up at the crack between door and frame. It was so obvious. Whether he was trying to get a better view of the fingers sliding in and out of my ass, or was trying t listen tot our groans and whispers I had no idea, but I saw him and it sent me over the edge.

I cried out dramatically, eyes half-closed, head back, watching Bill through my straggled hair as I came in spasms all over Chris's dick and fingers, my ass bucking on him, my hands subconsciously squeezing his balls that much harder, wanting him to shoot, which he duly did. Chris was much quieter in his orgasm -- I was still groaning and panting, being much the actress. But with the withdrawal of Chris's fingers from my ass and our post-climax stillness, Bill slunk off to his room. I collapsed on to the bed beside Chris, obsessing about Bill. I hoped he liked the show. While Chris was surreptitiously sniffing his fingers while he ran round the bay with his brother, I was miles away in the shower, wondering what fantasies were now in Bill's head . . .

DAY 4

Thursday took a different pattern to the previous mornings. The weather had closed in a little, so the boys opted against their run. To save his mother from the impending rain, Chris offered to do the dawn raid at the local shops, so I still ended up on the first floor alone with Bill. But there were bodies aplenty downstairs -- albeit busying themselves.

I was quick in the shower compared to usual, towelled off in the bathroom. I thought I heard furtive footsteps out on the landing. It crossed my mind that he may have hidden himself in my closet, but the room was man-free when I got there, I was sure of that. Not wanting to get caught in any "acts" by the rest of the family, I dressed quickly and simply, decided to skip make-up until later (Imogen would no doubt smirk at that) and padded quietly out of the room. As I passed Bill and Sheila's room, I heard a small sigh and some movement. That special kind of movement. Rhythmic movement. Was he jacking off in there? Dare I peek?

I pushed the door ever so slightly. The movement continued. I pushed a little more. Still no change in pace. I moved it a good inch or two with the last push, creating a gap wide enough to peer round. I edged closer, my left foot testing the first floorboard of his room, gradually building the pressure. I leant with my arm against the wooden door frame and slowly moved my head across until my left eye was able to pick up Bill on the bed. His back was mostly to me, he was sat at the foot of the bed over to the right from the door. He was wanking. No surprise. The surprise was that he was wanking with the panties I had worn yesterday. The dirty little. . .

I watched, mesmerised. His cock looked a decent size, I noted, probably out-measuring Chris. He had my black lace thong wrapped around his cock three or four times over. He was panting as he did it. Pushing the panties up and down his shaft, he seemed to revel when they scraped over the top of his dick. He was naked, his legs apart, perched on the bed's edge. There was a mirror opposite him, much like in my room, but he seemed to have his eyes closed, head thrown back a lot.

The dirty little bastard. I had "lost" a pair of panties and a hold-up stocking at their house months ago. Chris had blamed it on the dog -- "he's always doing that kind of thing" -- but poor old Patch was no pervert it turned out. Bill must have taken them. And then done Lord knows what to them.

He stopped jacking, unravelling the panties from his cock, and lifted them to his face, taking deep breaths of my scent. I didn't know what to think. I'd never seen anyone do that. Boyfriends had jokingly lauded the scent of my underwear, but this was real-life kink, right before my very eyes. I was transfixed. I figured he was so sexually frustrated that the scent of a sexy young woman, albeit via her panties, was a major kick for him. He returned one hand to his dick, the strokes more slow and methodical than before. My panties were still on his face, his head back so they stayed around his mouth and nose. I thought I saw his tongue in them. I couldn't be sure. It was making me horny. I wanted to go over and finish him off.

"Bill, come on! You said you'd help with the cooking today." Sheila was marching up the stairs. I dived into the bathroom, as it was nearer than my bedroom, bolting the door behind me and throwing the lid back loudly. I wasn't intending to reappear for some time. I really needed to cum.

DAY 5

The other 23 hours of my Wednesday were fairly grim. Being cooped up inside meant Chris and I were getting on each other's nerves again, the weather had turned cold, Imogen and the kids were annoying me. There were rows in the evening when the alcohol took hold. I tried to stay out of it all, my mind flitting back to the surreal events of the morning by way of escape. My mind was getting fixated with Bill and his dirty deeds. Chris drunkenly started a row with me as we went to bed, something about me not sticking up for him in front of his parents. I was getting a little bored of this relationship. Back in London it would be time to call it a day, I was thinking.

The next morning, Chris and his brother went for their run separately, a childish hangover from the night before. As I made my way to the bathroom I caught a glimpse of Bill in his room, still in bed, doing whatever 60-year-old men do when they're awake in bed. With a 30-year-old's panties, no doubt.

I showered quickly, gave my legs a quick shave, and decided I would just wander in there and look for my missing panties. After all, I was running short of underwear -- another consequence of my rushed packing effort. It felt like the week had reached some sort of cathartic point. I was certain to dump Chris, we were flying home that evening, I would never see Bill again after we landed in London -- so I wanted to see what would happen if he was still in the room.

I opened the bathroom door as quietly as I could, tiptoeing as far as the entrance to Bill and Sheila's room. I took a deep breath and strode in, brushing the door aside with my right hand and clutching my white towel to my chest with my left. Bill looked up in horror. He was sat up in bed, his bottom half under the covers -- hands too, I noted -- and he quickly gathered up the blankets to cover his torso as he went red and mumbled an apology.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked, standing in front of him, still dripping a little on to his carpet. "I'm the one who didn't knock! Sorry, I thought you were downstairs."

"Ummmm, that's OK. Sorry. Um, sorry." I took the last few steps to the bed and sat next to him, level with where his knees were up under the blankets. "What's up? Anything I can help with?" he stumbled.

"Yes, actually." I looked him in the eye. "I thought I'd lost a pair of knickers in here." The redness drained from his cheeks to be replaced by a strange shade of grey. I realised I was being a tad cruel, and I decided to change tack. I wanted him to relax. "It's OK. I'm not going to tell anyone. Or get annoyed."

"Oh. Ummmm." He fidgeted, not knowing where to look.

"Are they under there, right now?" I said pointing at his body under the cream bedding.

He looked at where I pointed, then back at me, then down at his legs. They were so under there. I sought out the edge of the covers with my right hand and delved under, pushing my way across to his body. I looked up to see him wide-eyed, watching the outline of my arm pushing under the blankets. My hand hit the underside of his thigh, his legs still raised up in an inverted 'V' under the covers. I pushed across, knowing full well I would next brush against his balls. When I got there I stopped and squeezed gently. He gulped. His balls twitched when he gulped. I smiled as I reached further, wrapping my hand around his hard-on. The panties weren't there, but I was fairly confident now that I would be getting them back.

"Mmmmm, something's got you excited this morning," I said with my cheekiest grin. My hand stroked slowly under the covers. Bill said nothing. He let out a few small gasps as his breathing became that bit more audible. "Did they smell OK?" I squeezed the base of his cock as I asked.

"Uh, yeah." The game up, he produced the thong from under the covers, offering it to me.

"Why don't you keep them for a minute," I said, pushing his hand up towards his face. "Show me how much you like them." He wasn't at all sure. "Go on!" I quietly urged, then let loose my grip on the towel wrapped around me, like that would offer some sort of legitimate deal. My tits were on show, and my hand was still squeezing and wanking his cock under the blanket, so I must have been semi-serious.

I lifted myself off the bed so I could free the towel from under me, pulling it away from my body with my free hand and tossing it to the floor. Now he was literally open-mouthed. I wanted some interaction, not dumbfounded amazement. I shifted so that my right leg was able to slide under the covers, opening my body up a little, not to mention my legs of course. I was almost face-on to him, he still holding the black panties halfway between us in the air, still staring at my toned curves just a few feet from his voyeuristic, prying eyes.

"Look." I stopped my hand under the covers. "I saw you yesterday. Wanking. With my knickers. And it turned me on. I want you to do it again."

This seemed to snap him from his trance. I began slowly massaging his dick and balls again, still out of sight. He sheepishly drew the black lace bundle to his face, watching me over the top of it, his nose eventually buried in there. I gave a dirty smile. Under the covers I used my right knee to nudge his leg closest to me further over towards where I sat. When it was right in front of me I slid forward, my groin against his foot. His eyes widened. I rocked gently against him, feeling myself getting warmer and wetter instantly. His shocked groan -- the first noise he had made in what seemed an age -- told me I was blowing his mind just as I'd hoped.

I pushed harder, I gripped his cock harder, I wanked faster. I could feel my lips parting and moistening against the ridge of his foot. I could feel him tensing his foot under me, perhaps trying to get a better feel for my nether regions, perhaps thinking he could aid my pleasure. I felt his big toe scratch my ass a few times as I moved against him.

He was breathing deeply into my panties when he suddenly jolted forward and whimpered. I felt his cock pumping under the covers and slowed to massage the juice from him, pressing his dick from the underside against his stomach. I felt warm, sticky cum on my thumb and fingers. I felt horny as hell.

Eventually he removed the panties from his face. "Thank you," he said, still a little sheepish.

"Thank you," I replied, giving his cock one last squeeze before pulling my hand free. We both looked at the off-white drops on my hand. I reached out with the left hand, beckoning the return of my panties. He gave them over with a smile. I quickly rearranged them so the gusset was visible and carefully cleaned his cum off my thumb and index finger. Then I stood from the bed, and put o the panties. He murmured some sort of oh-my-god blaspheme. I leant over and kissed him on the forehead before gathering my towel, re-applying it, and scampering from the room.

It's now Day 274 and I'm still wishing we had swapped email addresses...