Will Work for Panties Ch. 06

Hot water cascaded down my body washing away the soap from my chest, neck and shoulders. I stood under the showerhead letting the steamy water spray into my face before turning and rinsing off my back. My erection did not subside the whole time that I showered, and I replayed the events of the previous hour in my mind. I admit that I kept myself hard with the aid of my soapy palm because there was no way I wanted this throbbing erection to subside; not now. However, I think that I would have stayed hard even without the manual attention.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled myself dry. I had needed to get the smell of sweat and sawdust off of my body. Madeline might not have minded the byproduct of my labors in her fitting room; in fact, maybe she would have been aroused by the ripe, musky scent of my body. However, I felt sticky and grubby; being so very self-conscious of my own odor would only have given me something else to worry about and not have helped my situation. I wanted to wash away any stench and grime that might in some way have an adverse effect on what was already well underway: my seduction.

I toweled my hair dry then combed it as I thought about the erotic, crushing hug Madeline had given me for finishing the work in her lingerie shop downstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror while thinking about her invitation to celebrate with her, and the magnum of champagne that we shared. I thought about the sexy outline of her full figure revealed through her negligee as she swayed to music in front of her old-style record player. And, I thought about her undressing me on the sofa of her living room, and how she ran her fingers over my exposed chest and nibbled at my flesh while groping me through my dirty jeans, and how she had undressed me enough to free my erection. I throbbed at each thought, and while staring at my own face in the mirror for a few seconds wondered how I got so lucky.

I was on the verge of something big. I nervously allowed my mind to roam wildly about what Madeline had in store for me. It was going to be every young man’s dream come true, wasn’t it? How would it really feel? What would she initiate? Would I have the guts to follow through? Was I man enough to allow myself to be seduced, or would I run home, hide in my room, and jerk off with a fistful of panties – all by myself?

What am I getting myself into? Okay, calm down. Just try and relax. It’s okay. Everything has been great so far, and you haven’t made an ass of yourself yet. Just let it happen. Okay, here’s the plan, whatever she wants give it to her. Just go with it. Be cool, and don’t back out.

A little mental prep never hurt anyone, but the truth is that I was so nervous deep inside my guts that I think I had to convince myself to go through with this. I put all other thoughts out of my mind while looking into the mirror and trying to find what it was that had this mature Frenchwoman so turned on. I had been making her horny, but no matter how hard I tried to find what her attraction to me was, I failed.

I shook a little as I wrapped a dry towel around my body and left my work clothes crumpled in a pile on the floor by the foot of the shower confident that Madeline would not mind the mess. Nervous tension would have consumed me had it not been for the several glasses of champagne I had shared with her. It was an incredible feeling of being sober enough to be nervous yet drunk enough to loose my inhibitions. I stepped out of Madeline’s bathroom and into her adjoining boudoir wrapped in the towel.

Well, here goes everything.

Madeline’s bedroom was lighted dimly; enough light to see her clearly and appreciate her sensuality yet still shadowy enough to create an air of mystery provided by the flicker of several candles lit on either side of her bed. Stylish wallpaper gave a sensuous feel to her innermost sanctum, which reflected the tastes of a mature woman. Her furnishing were no less elegant here than in the rest of her apartment, perhaps more so. A queen size four-poster bed dominated the large room. There was typical bedroom furniture: a dark mahogany dresser and matching armoire, a loveseat on which she sat with her legs uncrossed and tilted to the side did not seem out of place in her boudoir, and a full-length dressing mirror in which I saw myself emerge from the bathroom took a prominent place next to the armoire.

She had a more modern sound system here in her bedroom. Rather than the decades old record player of the living room, here she had a modern compact disk player stereo system providing the background music. It sat on the top of a solid oak table that, if I am not mistaken, was once used to conceal the chamber pot. I recognized the style from a shop class in high school. I thought that it was an interesting conversion piece.

Over the head of her bed hung a large oil painting of a very beautiful young woman with dark black hair flowing over her breasts. The young woman sat on the edge of a large white claw-foot bathtub combing out her hair. It was obviously another portrait that Claude had painted of Madeline. It was more beautiful than the one that hung in her living room. The frame of the painting seemed to open into another smaller room in the dim light, but the color of her eyes and skin seemed to come to life. My eyes darted back and forth between her portrait and the living, breathing Madeline in front of me, and I felt an involuntary smile cross my face.

She’s always been so poised She even sits on the loveseat as if she’s posing for a portrait.

Madeline was still wearing her sheer black robe and champagne colored panties. She held her hands out to me, motioning for me to come to next to her and sit. I took her hand and sat next to her on the loveseat.

“Come ‘ere, Cherie.”

I motioned to the painting over her bed with my eyes.

“Another Claude original?”

“Oui.”

“I like this one more than the one in the living room. It‘s so much more lifelike. It’s very … erotic.”

Indeed, her artist lover had caught something in her, or brought something out, that was captivating. Her skin was less white than the alabaster tub on which she sat, and her hair was as dark as midnight. The smile on her face struck me as a combination of emotions: modesty and pride perhaps. Modesty at posing nude for the painter, yet pride in her own beauty. Or maybe she had posed at that point in her life where innocence and sexual awareness combined to form a fledgling sensuality.

“Merci,” she smiled back to me. “I am sure that Claude would ‘ave appreciated the compliment. ‘E called it ‘is Pièce de résistance.”

She got a momentary look of melancholy over her face as she glanced at the painting. It was as if a dark thought entered her head, not so much to cast a pall over our presence together, but rather a ghost reminder of something very old. After all, she was referring to Claude in the past tense. She quickly snapped back into a beaming smile and turned to me.

“Come ‘ere to me, Cherie.”

My hand held in hers, she pulled me towards her as she stood. Madeline reached for the towel around my waist and gently tugged it loose. It fell to the floor at our feet, and I stood before her naked as I had in the living room earlier when she had begun this seduction.

“You deed not really want to wear that, deed you?”

She dragged it with her foot to the side and I proudly took in a deep breath as she ran her fingers over my chest again. My erection was still at full staff. It was the only answer she needed.

“Ooh, you do stay excited, non?” she said as she lightly brushed my manhood with the fingers of her other hand.

“We,” I answered in a bad Americanized accent. She giggled.

“Oh, so now you are fluent en Français?” Madeline stroked her fingers across my chin and lower lip. “M'embrasser, mon amour,” she said.

I stared at her with the gaze of a dullard.

“Kees me,” she whispered.

I hesitantly pressed my mouth against her lips and kissed her. Madeline ran her right hand around the back of my lower body and held my left cheek in her hand. She wrapped her left hand around the back of my head as she kissed me. Her mouth was warm and moist; the seal our lips made as they pressed against each other created a mild sucking sensation. It was wonderful. I could feel the probing of her tongue at my lips. It was the best kiss I ever had. The excitement of it made my already rigid staff begin to twitch.

Goosing me, Madeline pulled me closer to her body and my erection pressed against her warm flesh. She kept me close to her, guiding me with her hand on my rear.

“Mmm Cherie,” she said, “you do indeed stay excited.” She pulled back and brushed her fingers lightly along the length of my shaft several times more, dragging her fingernails along the underside of my manhood.

“That feels … I like … ahh,” I stammered as she fingered my tool.

“Well now, I theenk I might be able to do something for thees,” she said. “Are you ready for a leetle ‘elp, Cherie?”

“Help?” I asked.

“Oui. ‘Elp with what you told me earlier. Your leetle ‘obby.”

I was speechless. I just nodded my head.

She traced the length of my penis with the crimson tip of her fingernail, then turned away from me. I watched her step to the large mahogany armoire and open its doors. She pulled out the center drawer and started to sift through many pairs of panties. She took out two pair. In her left hand she held a pair of dark blue silk panties that were tastefully decorated with swirls of gold. In her other hand she held a pair of maroon satin panties with gold pinstripes.

“Which do you prefer, the silk or the sateen?” she asked.

“Well, I really don’t know. They’re both so pretty.”

Madeline stepped back to me and pressed both of her panty-clad hands against my chest. With her left hand she rubbed the blue panties around my chest, and with her right hand she rubbed the maroon panties down the length of my body and around to the left cheek of my bottom. All I could do was close my eyes and sigh a deep contented breath as Madeline caressed my flesh with delightful silk and satin tenderness.

“Ahh, mon amore, I told you I would ‘elp you,” she said as she tended to my flesh.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “that…helps a lot.” I started to breath deeply. I smiled.

Indeed, Madeline had promised to “help” me earlier as we sat on her sofa sharing champagne. This seduction had begun with my confessing to her that I was a panty fetishist. It was a secret about which only a few people knew, but the list was growing. While I had sat on her sofa, weakened by the effects of the wine and her charms, I confessed all to Madeline. I confessed that I loved the look and the feel of all kinds of panties from cotton bikinis to elegant silk tap pants. I confessed that I loved the feel of them as I rubbed them against my body in those quiet, private moments when I indulged in my fantasies. I also confessed that three wonderful women, my Aunt Sherrie and her two sisters, Patti and Bambi, provided me with these exquisite garments and the conditions under which they did so. Panties for pay; I worked for panties.

Madeline took in all this information. She took it in and decided that she too would “help” me. However, I had a feeling that before this night was over I might really need some help. Patti had once warned me about Madeline, something like ‘she licked her chops the moment she saw you’ or something to that effect. Well, Madeline the huntress had her prey just where she wanted him, and she had moved in for the kill.

My joint was as stiff as it had been all night long. I wanted to touch this woman. Until now she had been the one to make all the moves, but I sensed that she would be receptive to my touch. At least that is what I wanted to believe. While she continued to caress my body with her panties, I put my hands on her hips and squeezed too hard.

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Did I hurt you?” I was afraid I had ruined everything. I recoiled a little and let go of her. I knew my own strength. The problem was that I did not know the degree of her sensitivity. Let’s face it, I was in pretty uncharted waters for me.

“I am fine, Cherie,” she reassured me. “But I am not going to run away from you. If you ‘old a woman too tightly, she may slip out of your ‘ands. You would not want thees.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again.

“Don’t be sorry. Be gentle, Cherie. That is what a woman wants. ‘Ere, ‘old me as you deed before, only not so ‘arshly.”

Madeline placed my hands back on her hips with her fingers overlapping mine and she squeezed very gently. She looked me straight in the eyes as she spoke.

“ ‘Ere Cherie, like thees,” she said. “That is ‘ow you should ‘old a woman. Don’t be afraid to touch me. If it makes you ‘appy, then touch me anywhere you would like as I ‘ave done weeth you. That will make it all the more enjoyable for the both of us.”

With that she stroked the length of my ever-hardening manhood with her satin-pantied hand. The feeling was exquisite. I responded by slowly and gently brushing my right hand up and down the side of her body.

“Like this?” I asked as I lightly ran my fingers up from the lacy trim of her panties, up inside her wispy robe to just under her breasts.

“Oui. C’est bon. Much better. I like that. See, you catch on quickly. You can ‘old a woman longer weeth a gentle touch. ‘Old ‘er right, and she will never be able to slip away.”

I caressed her body, gently, up and down from her panties to just under her breasts. I wasn’t bold enough yet to actually grab her bosom, so I just let my fingers and palm wander around along the length of her skin. I was bold enough, however, to begin fondling her derriere with my left hand. I had wrapped it around the back of her body as she had done to me, and mimicked the motions that she made. My own ignorance of how to touch a woman led me to a wonderful discovery. Gentle works like glue.

“Ahh, Cherie that is very nice. That is good. Always begin by touching a woman slowly, softly.” Her eyes fluttered and she pulled herself close to my ear. “Me toucher doucement. Me toucher lentement,” she whispered.

Sure. Whatever.

Standing there by her bed we continued to caress each other’s body. I don’t know exactly what effect it was having on Madeline, but I was slowly realizing excitement in areas that I had previously ignored. I am a man after all, and as such most of my masturbatory attention focuses on a relatively limited area of my own body. Madeline did not focus on any one area. She roamed her hands over my torso, her hands clad in silken finery. I felt the softness over my ass and chest. I felt hairs rise on the back of my neck as her hand came down over my shoulder and down to my chest, her fingernail circling my nipple.

My own fingers seemed to sense more as I touched her softly. Her body was warm and soft. There was less of the firmness of muscle tone that I felt when I hugged my girlfriend, Gail, or even my aunt and her sisters. But then, I had never been this intimate with any of them. Madeline’s flesh was much more tender, and I started to treat her in a more delicate way.

We just stood caressing and fondling, and gazing into each other’s eyes. There was something going on behind hers, some plot she was hatching. I could sense it. For my part I just stared at her learning each and every line of her face. The uncharacteristic patience I showed fondling her must have translated into a better sense of observation. I noticed things about Madeline that I had not noticed before. I found myself examining a woman in a totally different way.

Her face was indeed beautiful, but there were slight imperfections that were accents to her countenance. She had tiny little crow’s feet around her eyes; they were just slight lines. Her nose had a very gentle tilt to the left that was hardly noticeable unless you looked at her head on at eye level. Her teeth were white, but one or two were only slightly out of perfect alignment.

Madeline’s lips were perfect, flawless. She had full pouty lips that, true to her style, were made up with just the right amount of lipstick.

Her breasts remained uncharted territory to my hands. Madeline had let no part of my body unattended to, but I had not yet ventured forth to touch those wonderful globes. I slowly eased my hands along the side of her body bringing them to a convergence between her breasts. I started to bring my fingers to her bosom, but at the last second I lost my nerve and slowly pulled my fingers away.

“You are a tease, Cherie,” she said with a deep breath.

Madeline squeezed the skin around my waist with both hands. It tickled and I flinched.

“Oh, are we a leetle ticklish?” she asked.

“Yeah, just a bit,” I answered.

“Mmm, I may ‘ave some fun weeth that.”

“Please don’t. I can’t stand to be tickled.”

“Well then, you ‘ave to answer my question or I will tickle you more,” she said. “Do you prefer the blue silk or the burgundy sateen panties?”

I pondered this for a moment. They were both so smooth and sensual. It is so difficult to make a decision sometimes, but I decided to go with the traditional answer, or at least what I thought the traditional answer was.

“I, ah, I like the silk more.”

“Well I thought you would. I theenk most men prefer silk. It is so wonderful, non?”

Madeline dropped the maroon panties to the bed and held out the blue panties in front of me.

“’Ere Cherie, step into them,” she said.

“What?” I was amazed. “You want me to put them on?”

“It is not what I want that is important right now. It is what you want. You do want to step into them, non?”

With her free hand she began to scratch her fingernail across my chest and through my chest hair.

“No. I mean yes. I … I don’t know.”

“Cherie, you told me ‘ow you like to wear the panties when you are alone, oui?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“And I ’ave offered to ‘elp you, oui?” she whispered more quietly.

“Well, yes you did.”

“So I am ‘elping you now. Trust me, it will be nice,” she whispered into my ear almost inaudibly. With that said, she kissed my cheek and playfully pinched my nipple, and I thrust my chest out involuntarily and stood erect.

Well what the heck was I going to do, put my clothes on and leave? Of course I was not. So I stepped into the blue, silk panties that Madeline held out for me. She pulled them up my legs and to my hips. They fit well enough, and they were very sensual, of course. Now I was in uncharted waters. All my previous panty play was done alone in the privacy of my bedroom with the one exception of the bizarre “interview” conducted by my Aunt Sherrie shortly after she discovered my fetish. There I had a pair of panties on under my pants in the company of three women. Here I was with Madeline in the privacy of her bedroom, naked but for the silk panties, and ready for sex.

Something flashed into my memory as Madeline pulled the panties up my legs and rested them on my hips. It was something that Patti had said to me in the past. I thought about it as I looked at the tent that my erection made in the underwear: your fetishes are more enjoyable when you share them with someone. For a moment I remembered the look in Patti’s eyes as she washed my hands that day. I remembered how much she seemed to enjoy caressing and washing my hands, feeding her own fetish. I was aroused then, as was she.

Now I stood here with Madeline clad in a pair of her dark blue silk panties with a raging erection throbbing almost uncontrollably beneath it all. Madeline held me by the hips and gracefully slid her hands back and forth across the panties I wore. She caressed my bottom and my erection. The feel of someone else, this mature woman, touching me through the silk was greater than anything I had done to myself.