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Mrs. Summers’ Slips
Chapter 1, "Curiosity"
Shortly after my thirteenth birthday, I discovered the appendage between my
legs had another use. As I experimented with these new-found sensations
sometimes 3-times a day, and usually with the assistance of a purloined stroke
mag), it became very clear that I preferred looking at pictures of partially
clad women over full frontal nudity. By partially clad, I mean looking at
pictures of women wearing seductive or frilly bras, panties, nightgowns, etc.
At about this same time, a neighbor, Mrs Elaine Summers, hired me to do a
variety of chores in and around her house. I had known Mrs Summers and her
husband for several years, and came to view her as my second mother. She was
always very kind to me and I found it easy to talk to her about things I felt
uncomfortable discussing with my own mother. I always considered her very
attractive, but now at the age of thirteen her presence awakened new feelings.
I had developed a very strong case of puppy-love. This was somewhat disturbing
as I had adopted her as my second mother. Despite that fact, I harbored
certain fantasies about her, mostly being in her bedroom while she undressed,
and visualizing what her mature body would look like as she removed each outer
garment and undergarment. I also began studying her attire. She always wore
the most feminine dresses, or skirt and blouse combinations. I don't think she
owned one pair of slacks. Her blouses were translucent enough so you could see
a hint of lacy bra, or the frilly bodice of a pretty slip.
One rather dreary mid-Saturday afternoon, I had completed my assigned chores,
and we were sitting at her kitchen table casually chatting, me drinking a coke
and she a glass of Sherry. She was wearing a just-below-the-knee swingy-type
dress that buttoned down the front. The bottom two or three buttons were
undone revealing a rather large swath of fetching pink lace and just above that
silky and shimmery pink nylon. I couldn't stop from staring. It caused the
oddest and strangest sensation in the pit of my stomach as well as the more
recognizable urgent sensations between my legs. I was a bit perplexed that an
innocent showing of her slip would cause this reaction. But, I was utterly
fascinated by the sight and couldn't keep myself from staring at it.
Of course she soon became aware of my preoccupation and asked if there was
something wrong. I shook my head 'no' and while I felt I was doing nothing
wrong I felt the flush of embarassment redden my cheeks.
"Oh, come now, Frankie, what is so fascinating, dear?" By this time she was
half-way through a second glass of wine. Her usual rigid posture was becoming
more relaxed as was her speech.
My instincts told me to change the subject, but I heard my voice saying, "Do all
women wear those?" nodding my head in the direction of her exposed slip.
She looked down at her exposed slip and simply replied, "You mean slips? I
imagine that most women do. Personally, I always wear a slip. I'd feel not
totally dressed if I didn't. Why is it that you ask, Frankie?"
I answered truthfully, "Um, I'm not sure. It sorta just popped into my head. I
really don't why, Mrs Summers."
She looked me straight in the eye for what seemed like a long time, as though
she were attempting to read to my mind. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
She drained her glass and poured a third.
"Do you like looking at my slip, Frankie?"
Again, despite my instincts, I answered truthfully, and my voice was a hushed
"yes."
"I see. Hmmmm. Well, I suppose it's only natural for a boy your age to be
curious about certain things we women wear. It so happens that this is one of
my favorite slips." There was another long pause with eye contact. "Do you
think my slip is pretty, Frankie?" Her posture was really relaxed, and I
believe I detected a bit of teasing in her words.
Now my voice was very hoarse from my arousal and I had to clear my voice before
whispering "yes." I was wearing khaki shorts and beneath jockey underwear. I
was keenly aware that my erect penis was quite possibly more swollen than I had
ever remembered. The sense of urgency down there made me sqirm in the chair and
as I did so, I felt the bulbous head of my penis escape under the legband of my
jockey shorts.Another squirming movement and fully two-thirds of my erection
was free from my underwear and pressing against my left inner thigh. I felt it
pressing against my khaki shorts. I lowered my eyes for just a second to
inspect and was instantly horrified. Not only could I actually see the outline
of my erection through the thin material of the shorts, but, I was pre-cumming
rapidly and there was a noticable wet spot showing.
She smiled at my whispered response, and said, "Most boys your age I think
would be very hesitant to talk about a woman's slip. But for you to do so, and
actually admit that you think my slip is pretty - well, I find that to be
pleasantly surprising and quite mature for a boy your age.
"You do?", asked basking in the complement.
"Certainly, I do. Now there are two kinds of slips, a half-slip and a full
slip, which is what I'm wearing now. She began a rather long dissertation
about slip wearing in general which I soon began ignoring. I concentrated more
on her slip which seemed to me exposing itself more and more as she talk. I
loved the way the slip sort of gave off silky waves when she moved her legs
around. The tension between my legs was almost more than I could bear. I truly
believed that if I just touched myself through my shorts I would explode. About
the only words I heard was something about "so naughty boys like you can't see
our panties through our dresses." Finally, she realized that I wasn't paying
more attention to her exposed slip than to her slip lecture.
She laughed. "My, my Frankie, you do seem to have a one track mind, don't you?
Well, no matter. I think I've exhausted everything I know about slips, except
for one thing. As much as slips are pretty to look at, they feel just as pretty
to wear. Maybe more. When I wear a pretty and slip and feel it against my skin,
why it just makes me feel pretty and feel good as well. You've seen my slip,
you know why a woman wears them, etc., would you care to see how it feels?"
"Huh? What?, Um, I don't . . ."
She scooted her chair around the corner of the table, spread her legs so the
slip was taut against her legs and offered it for my touch. I wanted to, but,
sat there mutely just staring at it.
"Go on, dear, I know you want to," she said, and gently grabbed my hand and
placed it on her slip. I heard myself sigh rather loudly, surprised by how
wonderful it felt - so soft and silky. I let my hand wander over it a bit, not
wanting the feeling to stop. Now, I aware that I wasn't oozing any longer, I
was dripping and I could feel my pre-cum drooling down the inside of my thigh.
I dropped my eyes instinctively and was aghast at the large round wet spot. I
looked up at her quickly and saw her eyes focused down there as well.
She seemed a bit shaken or surprised, but recovered quickly, much more than I.
She said nary a word, but looked me again in the eyes as she had done before.
"Come on," she said, softly, got up from the chair and I followed her. We
climbed the stairs and I felt relieved to be away from her knowing eyes. She
stagged a bit as she walked, from drinking too much wine. Once upstairs we
entered her bedroom, and she walked over to her dresser and opened a drawer.
"This is where I keep all my slips, Frankie. She removed two. A black
half-slip and a white full slip. "See, this is a half-slip, and this is a full
slip", she said matter-of factly. "Now you know the difference."
She looked at her watch. "Oh, look at the time, I've got to get dinner ready."
And with that she left, closing the door gently behind her.
I'm not sure how long I looked at the two slips laying invitingly on the bed.
With no conscious thought that I remember, I felt my hands at my shorts and in
a split second my erection was exposed. I felt a bit proud at that moment
because it was huger than I ever remembered it. I approached the bed, my
underarms soaked with fear, and excitement, and with a quivering hand gently
touched the black slip. It felt so good and I picked it up and pressed it
lightly against me. I sat on the bed and pressed the slip hard against the
underside of my erect penis. And then I reached the point of no return. Before
I could even think of dropping the slip so I wouldn't soil it, I began a
massive ejaculation, again and again feeling my hot boyish juices jetting from
the tip of my penis. And into the soft silky confines of Mrs Summers' silky
black slip. When it was over, I was terribly shaken and embarassed, and
exhausted both physically and mentally. I inspected the damage and knew there
was nothing I could do to hide what I did. I left the soaked slip lying on
the bed and silently went downstairs wondering if I should tell her what
happened. She was in the living room, straightening up and turned as I walked
down the stairs.
"Whatever is the matter, Frankie? You look as though you just lost your best
friend."
My mind was racing as to what to say. I saw her eyes change from those of
concern, to those of knowing.
"Did you have, um a boy accident, Frankie?"
"I, I'm sorry, Mrs Summers. I couldn't, I don't know . . ."
"Shhh, shhh, that's all right dear. I understand completely," she said, and
gave me a motherly hug. My head was buried in her shoulder.
"With one the slips?" she inquired in a soft and gentle voice.
I responded in with a muffled yes.
"Okay, okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of, nor to worry about. The only
way anyone will find out is if you tell them. What happened was quite normal
for an impressionable boy your age." There was a long pause. She whispered
again, "Were you wearing it, honey?"
Her words didn't quite sink in at that moment, and I replied quickly that I
didn't. She didn't say anything, and my mind repeated her question. "Were you
wearing it?" It surprised and startled me that she would even think to ask
that. Yet, I was intrigued by the thought. I didn't wear one of her slips, but
now that I thought of it, yes, I think I would have liked to do exactly that.
As though she were reading my mind, she again whispered, "Do you think that you
would like it if you did?"
She stepped away from me and looked me directly in the eyes. I nodded, yes.
"Perhaps another day, honey. I think you've had enough excitement. "You run
along, now."
Chapter II, Experimentation
I left Mrs. Summers house very much shaken and confused at the events that had
just taken place. My loins were still warm with the afterglow of that
magnificent orgasm which only served to make me think more. When I entered the
house my mother instinctively knew something was troubling me. I managed to
fend off her inquiries complaining of a headache. Mom agreed I looked a bit
peaked so she gave me a couple of aspirins and sent me off to my bedroom for
some bed rest. I lay there piecing together the events of the afternoon with
Mrs. Summers. There was so much I didn’t understand, mostly about myself. What
was wrong with me that seeing a few inches of Mrs. Summers’ slip got me all hot
and bothered. Why did I ask her if all women wore slips, and then continue
answering her questions? It would have been so easy to avoid answering them.
Yet, I answered honestly which only encouraged her to ask more questions. And
when I sensed she might have been teasing, didn’t I like it? And how about when
she saw the wet spot and the bulging shorts, didn’t I feel a surge of excitement
go through me. For some reason I found it strangely thrilling to have Mrs.
Summers acknowledge my sexual arousal, despite being utterly humiliated. And
then being left alone with her slips lying so seductively on the bed. Was I
mesmerized or hypnotized by them. It was as if they were sending silent signals:
“We know what you want. Go ahead; take off your shorts and underwear. Look
down at your engorged penis. Witness the seductive power of a woman’s slip.
Now, come and fondle us. That’s it. We feel so silky don’t we? Hold us tightly
against your most sensitive and intimate body parts. That’s it, enjoy the
scrumptious sensations. Lose your fear. Forget the humiliation. Enjoy the
moment. We know exactly what will happen, for we were designed to give you
pleasure. Now, slide us against that wonderful hardness. Empty your passion
into our soft and silky nylon fabric, for it is what we wish of you.”
My thoughts switched to Mrs. Summers. What must she think of me? I was now
aware that my penis had become hard, and I was instinctively rubbing myself. I
undid my shorts, and pushed both the shorts and underpants down my legs. I
closed my eyes and relived the events of the afternoon, slowly stroking my
thickened shaft slowly. Flashbacks jumped into my mind quickly. The first
glimpse of her pink slip, her noticing, her eyes boring into mine, touching her
slip, the slips on her bed. Oh, how I longed to have one of her silky slips
right now to keep me company. My arousal grew and the oozing pre-cum leaked
profusely. I ran my palm over the swollen glans. The fluid provided an
excellent lubricant for the task at hand, but not even close to the sensations
that Mrs. Summers’ silky slip would provide. I closed my eyes even more tightly
as I felt the fluid damming up inside me, looking for escape. And, then Mrs.
Summers was there! She’s sitting on my bed watching and smiling knowingly. From
somewhere she produces the black half-slip, and lays it over my pumping fist.
“Here, Frankie, use my slip, honey. I know you want to.”
My body stiffened, and I emitted a strangled “Uhhhh”, and I opened my eyes just
in time to see a geyser of white cum jet violently from the tip of my erection.
It arched gracefully several inches in the air, and then fell heavily onto my
stomach, filling my navel with moist warmness. A second, third and fourth spasm
shook me as thick fluid flowed over my hand, down my swollen shaft, between my
legs and forming a wide puddle on the bedspread. I lay there gently fondling
myself as my penis returned to its natural state.
The next morning as we were leaving for church, I saw Mrs. Summers doing the
same. I waved and she returned the wave. I wondered what she was wearing under
that Navy blue dress. I stepped into the back of his car, still wondering, and
felt the familiar tingle between my legs. Before, during and after church, I
must have noticed a half-dozen women whose slips were peeking out from under the
hem of their dresses or skirts. I found it odd that I had never seen that
before. Or did I?
The following week, I saw Mrs. Summers several times around the neighborhood.
We exchange pleasantries, but she didn’t ask me to help with any chores. I was
disappointed, but in a way relieved. I even felt a bit embarrassed just meeting
her on the street. I assumed that since she didn’t ask me to her house, she must
be angry or disappointed with me for what happened last Saturday. That bothered
me. A lot. I was very, very fond of her, and to lose her friendship because of
what I did was almost unbearable. I had to do something about this.
I waited a few more days. When I wasn’t asked to her house, I went one morning
uninvited. She answered the door, and greeted me, but it wasn’t the same Mrs.
Summers. She didn’t even ask me in.
“Good morning, Frankie”, she said evenly.
“Um, Mrs. Summers, are you mad at me or something?”
“Why, no. Of course not. What makes you think so.”
“Well, it’s been ten days since, um, I helped out around the house. So, I was .
. .”
“Things have been just a little hectic around here. I’ll have you over shortly.
Maybe later in the week, okay?” She started to close the door.
“Um, Mrs. Summers. Could I talk to you for a moment?”
I saw warning signs flash in her eyes. “What about dear?”
I asked to come in, and although she stepped aside, I saw she was hesitant to do
so. She didn’t ask me to sit down.
“Well, what is it Frankie?”
“Um, well, it’s about last week. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Frankie.” But, it’s better if we both forget it, okay?”
“Okay. But, well, it’s been really bothering me. And, there’s some things that
I don’t understand.”
“Frankie, I said forget it,” she said a little sternly.
“But . . .”
“We are not going to discuss this. Period. Now run along, I’ve got a lot of
things to do.”
I left, feeling bad that I had further alienated her.
A few days later my mother told me that Mrs. Summers had some work for me. I was
elated but also somewhat apprehensive. I knocked on her door and she welcomes
me with a friendly smile. I immediately took note of her attire. A tartan
pleated skirt and a white silk blouse with a ruffled front and tiny pearl
buttons. Her bra was clearly visible through the translucent silk. I wondered
if she was wearing a half-slip. She gave me a list of things to do and I went
to work. Several times our paths crossed and we exchanged a few pleasantries.
At each meeting she became a little chattier. A half-empty wineglass was on the
kitchen counter. It was near mid-afternoon and I went into the house to report
mission accomplished. She sat me down at the kitchen table and served snacks
and a coke. She sipped from her glass.
“Listen, Frankie. I want to apologize for my behavior the other day. I could
tell that I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. Will you forgive me?”
“Sure”, I said, feeling greatly relieved. “I apologize too, Mrs. Summers.”
She smiled almost sadly. “Oh, Frankie, you have nothing to apologize for,
dear.”
She emptied her glass and refilled it. “You see, my husband and I are, well,
we’re having some difficulties. He’s seeing someone else. A woman who he works
with.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. You don’t need to hear
this.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Summers. I don’t mind. You always listened to me.”
She smiled sadly again. “Oh, Frankie, you’re such a good boy. If I had son,
I’d want him to be exactly like you.”
She got up from her chair and kissed me motherly on the top of my head. The
front of her blouse grazed my face. Through the white silk I saw the swells of
her breasts spilling out from the lacy cups of her bra. She gently pushed my
head closer against her, and my face buried itself into her blouse, the lacy
bra, and her soft pliant breasts. I suffered an instant erection. She sat back
down, wiping tears away and took another long pull on her drink. Then she began
talking. Almost incessantly and non-stop. The front of her silk blouse moved
like creamy sensuous waves as she spoke, and it captivated me. I stared hard
beneath the blouse at the lacy bra. I was sure I could see the outline of her
nipples. I rubbed myself gently through my shorts. Twenty minutes later, she
was wrapping up.
“I know it won’t change anything, but, I do feel much better. Thank you so
much, Frankie.”
“For what?”
“For listening.”
“You always listened to me, Mrs. Summers.”
“Yes, that’s true. Except the other day. You wanted to talk about some things
that were bothering you, weren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then, I’m all ears.”
I started off haltingly, but the more I talked the easier it became and the
words began flowing. She didn’t say anything, but only nodded occasionally. I
wanted to know what was wrong with me.
“Oh, Frankie, there is nothing wrong with you. Boys your age are curious about
women and everything associated with them. That you’re attracted to certain
articles of women’s clothing is not wrong. Most men have similar attractions.
Perhaps it may be high-heels, maybe leather skirts or pants, nylon stockings – a
lot of different things. But it’s not wrong. It’s a personal and private choice
and has nothing at all to do with you as a human being. Did you know Cary Grant
wears panties?”
“He does.”
She laughed. “Well, so I’ve heard. I don’t know for sure. But, if he does, so
what? Does that make him a threat to society? No, I think not. He is, after
all one of the most popular and respected actors in Hollywood.”
“But, I’m still confused, Mrs. Summers.
“Okay, look at it this way. You eat food don’t you?”
“Yes, everybody does. So what. It’s only natural.”
“Exactly, it’s only natural. Everybody does.”
“Yeah, but everybody doesn’t like ladies slips.”
“No. But then, everybody doesn’t like spinach, now do they? I know you once
told me you hated spinach. It just so happens that I love spinach. You see,
it’s all a matter of taste and choice. I suppose no one really knows why certain
foods taste good to one person, and not so good to another. No one really
cares. Don’t you see Frankie? Everyone has his or her likes and dislikes.
Everyone has certain things that make them feel good – watching a baseball game,
reading a book, eating pizza, kissing. Looking at or touching a slip. There IS
nothing wrong with that, Frankie. Understand?”
It made sense the way she put it. But, I still had some lingering doubts.
“Yes, I understand. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Summers. I always feel better after
talking to you.”
She laughed. “And, I too, Frankie. Anything else troubling you?” she asked
jokingly.
Yes, there was. Wearing a slip. I wanted to from the moment it was suggested.
“Um, the last time. You asked me if I thought I might want to wear a slip.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “And, do you, Frankie?” She asked, in a
hushed and serious voice. “Are you really certain of that?”
“Yes. I want to.”
“If I allow that, you must promise never to tell anyone. Do you understand?
Never. Not even your best friend. Understood?”
“Yes. I won’t ever tell.”
“Very well.” I followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. I was scared,
but oh, so excited. I was actually trembling.
She noticed. “Are you sure about this, dear?”
“Y-yes.”
She opened the drawer and invited me to look in the drawer. “See anything you
like?”
“Everything. Will you choose something for me?”
She smiled. “Of course. Let’s see. Oh, I know. You seemed to like the pink
slip,” she said, and withdrew it and handed it to me. I shivered just holding
it. It was so light and silky and pleasing to look at. “And, how about this?
This is lovely.” She held up a white half-slip and pointed out the long opening
adorned with lovely lace. I wear this under my vented skirts. It’s real pretty
don’t you think?”
I nodded my approval. “Well, I’ll leave you alone, okay?” Call if you need
anything else. She took a few steps, then stopped.
“There’s one other thing, Frankie.” She opened another drawer, studied its
contents for a long moment, and then withdrew two pair of panties. One pink and
one white. “I’m sure you know what these are, don’t you? The pink pair goes with
the pink slip and the white panties with the white slip. Simple, huh?”
I nodded. She tossed them casually on the bed, and left the bedroom. This time
there was no hesitation. I stripped off all of my clothes in record time. There
was no doubt that I wanted to wear that pink slip first. Not ever having done
this before I didn’t know the proper way to don a slip. So holding the slip by
its two satin straps I stepped into it as if putting on a pair of pants and
pulled it up my body. I was instantly aware of the soft nylon fabric against my
skin, and sighed. I had never before felt anything that made my skin feel so
happy. And then the lacy bodice caressed the underside of my erection, followed
by the silky nylon of the slip’s skirt. My oozing left a trail of wetness over
the pretty pink material. I wanted to masturbate right away. I remembered her
panties. I picked them up and held them against my face. They smelled of
perfume and the heady aroma made me stimulated me further. I stepped into them
and thought how these same panties were probably worn not too long ago my Mrs.
Summers. Covering that most secret of all woman’s secrets. This was so
thrilling to be wearing her panties. I slipped them on under the pink slip. I
looked at myself in the full-length mirror and liked what I saw. I liked it a
lot. I would rub myself to orgasm through the slip and panties.
I sensed something. There was Mrs. Summer’s reflection in the mirror. She was
standing in the doorway, her arms folded, a smile on her lips. We just stood
there looking at each other in the mirror.
“I was curious as to which slip you would choose, Frankie. I guessed right.”
She walked into the room and stood behind me. “Well, what do you think? Feels
nice, doesn’t it? I smelled the Sherry on her breath.
I didn’t trust my voice. I nodded my agreement.
“Well, let’s have a look at you, shall we,” stepping in front of me and looking
me up and down. “Ah, I see you decided to wear the panties. That was the proper
decision. A lady should never go without wearing her panties. Do you like the
panties, dear?”
Again a nod. Now I was really scared. I was very close to losing it. I couldn’t
do that with her standing here. I’d be so humiliated to have her see me soil her
panties and slip.
“You look lovely, dear.” She took me by the arm and led me over to the bed and
sat me down. She sat next to me; her skirted thigh pressing against my slip
covered thigh. She adjusted my slip straps. “It’s a little big for you. Of
course I’m much bigger around the chest.” She giggled a little. “But, of course
you know that, don’t you? I saw you staring at the front of my blouse while we
were talking. You were really interested in my bra, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“But, you couldn’t see it very well, I mean with my blouse on, could you?”
“No.”
“But, you’d like to see it, wouldn’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply. Her
fingers slowly undoing each small pearl button. One by one they came undone,
her blouse opening wider with each undone button. More and more of the lacy bra
cups showing. She pulled the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and undid
the remaining two buttons. She held the blouse open so I could see her bra.
This time I knew I could see the nipples beneath the lacy material.
Would you like to touch my bra?” She took my hand and placed my palm on her
bra. Suddenly, I stiffened. I couldn’t control myself. With a loud groan, I
began ejaculating into the pink panties.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, holding me against her, as I flooded the
panties. She stroked my back soothingly, as I continued my orgasm, “It’s okay,
it’s okay.”
When my body went limp she lay me gently on the bed, lifted my hips and reached
under the slip and helped me take off the soaked panties. I was still hard, and
her fingers brushed me. I gasped, softly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She came back with a warm wet washcloth, had me
stand and helped me off with the slip. I was semi-rigid as she knelt before me,
lightly bathing my privates with the cloth. I began to get erect again. She
laughed softly saying something about boys my age having magnificent
recuperative powers.
Chapter 1, "Curiosity"
Shortly after my thirteenth birthday, I discovered the appendage between my
legs had another use. As I experimented with these new-found sensations
sometimes 3-times a day, and usually with the assistance of a purloined stroke
mag), it became very clear that I preferred looking at pictures of partially
clad women over full frontal nudity. By partially clad, I mean looking at
pictures of women wearing seductive or frilly bras, panties, nightgowns, etc.
At about this same time, a neighbor, Mrs Elaine Summers, hired me to do a
variety of chores in and around her house. I had known Mrs Summers and her
husband for several years, and came to view her as my second mother. She was
always very kind to me and I found it easy to talk to her about things I felt
uncomfortable discussing with my own mother. I always considered her very
attractive, but now at the age of thirteen her presence awakened new feelings.
I had developed a very strong case of puppy-love. This was somewhat disturbing
as I had adopted her as my second mother. Despite that fact, I harbored
certain fantasies about her, mostly being in her bedroom while she undressed,
and visualizing what her mature body would look like as she removed each outer
garment and undergarment. I also began studying her attire. She always wore
the most feminine dresses, or skirt and blouse combinations. I don't think she
owned one pair of slacks. Her blouses were translucent enough so you could see
a hint of lacy bra, or the frilly bodice of a pretty slip.
One rather dreary mid-Saturday afternoon, I had completed my assigned chores,
and we were sitting at her kitchen table casually chatting, me drinking a coke
and she a glass of Sherry. She was wearing a just-below-the-knee swingy-type
dress that buttoned down the front. The bottom two or three buttons were
undone revealing a rather large swath of fetching pink lace and just above that
silky and shimmery pink nylon. I couldn't stop from staring. It caused the
oddest and strangest sensation in the pit of my stomach as well as the more
recognizable urgent sensations between my legs. I was a bit perplexed that an
innocent showing of her slip would cause this reaction. But, I was utterly
fascinated by the sight and couldn't keep myself from staring at it.
Of course she soon became aware of my preoccupation and asked if there was
something wrong. I shook my head 'no' and while I felt I was doing nothing
wrong I felt the flush of embarassment redden my cheeks.
"Oh, come now, Frankie, what is so fascinating, dear?" By this time she was
half-way through a second glass of wine. Her usual rigid posture was becoming
more relaxed as was her speech.
My instincts told me to change the subject, but I heard my voice saying, "Do all
women wear those?" nodding my head in the direction of her exposed slip.
She looked down at her exposed slip and simply replied, "You mean slips? I
imagine that most women do. Personally, I always wear a slip. I'd feel not
totally dressed if I didn't. Why is it that you ask, Frankie?"
I answered truthfully, "Um, I'm not sure. It sorta just popped into my head. I
really don't why, Mrs Summers."
She looked me straight in the eye for what seemed like a long time, as though
she were attempting to read to my mind. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
She drained her glass and poured a third.
"Do you like looking at my slip, Frankie?"
Again, despite my instincts, I answered truthfully, and my voice was a hushed
"yes."
"I see. Hmmmm. Well, I suppose it's only natural for a boy your age to be
curious about certain things we women wear. It so happens that this is one of
my favorite slips." There was another long pause with eye contact. "Do you
think my slip is pretty, Frankie?" Her posture was really relaxed, and I
believe I detected a bit of teasing in her words.
Now my voice was very hoarse from my arousal and I had to clear my voice before
whispering "yes." I was wearing khaki shorts and beneath jockey underwear. I
was keenly aware that my erect penis was quite possibly more swollen than I had
ever remembered. The sense of urgency down there made me sqirm in the chair and
as I did so, I felt the bulbous head of my penis escape under the legband of my
jockey shorts.Another squirming movement and fully two-thirds of my erection
was free from my underwear and pressing against my left inner thigh. I felt it
pressing against my khaki shorts. I lowered my eyes for just a second to
inspect and was instantly horrified. Not only could I actually see the outline
of my erection through the thin material of the shorts, but, I was pre-cumming
rapidly and there was a noticable wet spot showing.
She smiled at my whispered response, and said, "Most boys your age I think
would be very hesitant to talk about a woman's slip. But for you to do so, and
actually admit that you think my slip is pretty - well, I find that to be
pleasantly surprising and quite mature for a boy your age.
"You do?", asked basking in the complement.
"Certainly, I do. Now there are two kinds of slips, a half-slip and a full
slip, which is what I'm wearing now. She began a rather long dissertation
about slip wearing in general which I soon began ignoring. I concentrated more
on her slip which seemed to me exposing itself more and more as she talk. I
loved the way the slip sort of gave off silky waves when she moved her legs
around. The tension between my legs was almost more than I could bear. I truly
believed that if I just touched myself through my shorts I would explode. About
the only words I heard was something about "so naughty boys like you can't see
our panties through our dresses." Finally, she realized that I wasn't paying
more attention to her exposed slip than to her slip lecture.
She laughed. "My, my Frankie, you do seem to have a one track mind, don't you?
Well, no matter. I think I've exhausted everything I know about slips, except
for one thing. As much as slips are pretty to look at, they feel just as pretty
to wear. Maybe more. When I wear a pretty and slip and feel it against my skin,
why it just makes me feel pretty and feel good as well. You've seen my slip,
you know why a woman wears them, etc., would you care to see how it feels?"
"Huh? What?, Um, I don't . . ."
She scooted her chair around the corner of the table, spread her legs so the
slip was taut against her legs and offered it for my touch. I wanted to, but,
sat there mutely just staring at it.
"Go on, dear, I know you want to," she said, and gently grabbed my hand and
placed it on her slip. I heard myself sigh rather loudly, surprised by how
wonderful it felt - so soft and silky. I let my hand wander over it a bit, not
wanting the feeling to stop. Now, I aware that I wasn't oozing any longer, I
was dripping and I could feel my pre-cum drooling down the inside of my thigh.
I dropped my eyes instinctively and was aghast at the large round wet spot. I
looked up at her quickly and saw her eyes focused down there as well.
She seemed a bit shaken or surprised, but recovered quickly, much more than I.
She said nary a word, but looked me again in the eyes as she had done before.
"Come on," she said, softly, got up from the chair and I followed her. We
climbed the stairs and I felt relieved to be away from her knowing eyes. She
stagged a bit as she walked, from drinking too much wine. Once upstairs we
entered her bedroom, and she walked over to her dresser and opened a drawer.
"This is where I keep all my slips, Frankie. She removed two. A black
half-slip and a white full slip. "See, this is a half-slip, and this is a full
slip", she said matter-of factly. "Now you know the difference."
She looked at her watch. "Oh, look at the time, I've got to get dinner ready."
And with that she left, closing the door gently behind her.
I'm not sure how long I looked at the two slips laying invitingly on the bed.
With no conscious thought that I remember, I felt my hands at my shorts and in
a split second my erection was exposed. I felt a bit proud at that moment
because it was huger than I ever remembered it. I approached the bed, my
underarms soaked with fear, and excitement, and with a quivering hand gently
touched the black slip. It felt so good and I picked it up and pressed it
lightly against me. I sat on the bed and pressed the slip hard against the
underside of my erect penis. And then I reached the point of no return. Before
I could even think of dropping the slip so I wouldn't soil it, I began a
massive ejaculation, again and again feeling my hot boyish juices jetting from
the tip of my penis. And into the soft silky confines of Mrs Summers' silky
black slip. When it was over, I was terribly shaken and embarassed, and
exhausted both physically and mentally. I inspected the damage and knew there
was nothing I could do to hide what I did. I left the soaked slip lying on
the bed and silently went downstairs wondering if I should tell her what
happened. She was in the living room, straightening up and turned as I walked
down the stairs.
"Whatever is the matter, Frankie? You look as though you just lost your best
friend."
My mind was racing as to what to say. I saw her eyes change from those of
concern, to those of knowing.
"Did you have, um a boy accident, Frankie?"
"I, I'm sorry, Mrs Summers. I couldn't, I don't know . . ."
"Shhh, shhh, that's all right dear. I understand completely," she said, and
gave me a motherly hug. My head was buried in her shoulder.
"With one the slips?" she inquired in a soft and gentle voice.
I responded in with a muffled yes.
"Okay, okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of, nor to worry about. The only
way anyone will find out is if you tell them. What happened was quite normal
for an impressionable boy your age." There was a long pause. She whispered
again, "Were you wearing it, honey?"
Her words didn't quite sink in at that moment, and I replied quickly that I
didn't. She didn't say anything, and my mind repeated her question. "Were you
wearing it?" It surprised and startled me that she would even think to ask
that. Yet, I was intrigued by the thought. I didn't wear one of her slips, but
now that I thought of it, yes, I think I would have liked to do exactly that.
As though she were reading my mind, she again whispered, "Do you think that you
would like it if you did?"
She stepped away from me and looked me directly in the eyes. I nodded, yes.
"Perhaps another day, honey. I think you've had enough excitement. "You run
along, now."
Chapter II, Experimentation
I left Mrs. Summers house very much shaken and confused at the events that had
just taken place. My loins were still warm with the afterglow of that
magnificent orgasm which only served to make me think more. When I entered the
house my mother instinctively knew something was troubling me. I managed to
fend off her inquiries complaining of a headache. Mom agreed I looked a bit
peaked so she gave me a couple of aspirins and sent me off to my bedroom for
some bed rest. I lay there piecing together the events of the afternoon with
Mrs. Summers. There was so much I didn’t understand, mostly about myself. What
was wrong with me that seeing a few inches of Mrs. Summers’ slip got me all hot
and bothered. Why did I ask her if all women wore slips, and then continue
answering her questions? It would have been so easy to avoid answering them.
Yet, I answered honestly which only encouraged her to ask more questions. And
when I sensed she might have been teasing, didn’t I like it? And how about when
she saw the wet spot and the bulging shorts, didn’t I feel a surge of excitement
go through me. For some reason I found it strangely thrilling to have Mrs.
Summers acknowledge my sexual arousal, despite being utterly humiliated. And
then being left alone with her slips lying so seductively on the bed. Was I
mesmerized or hypnotized by them. It was as if they were sending silent signals:
“We know what you want. Go ahead; take off your shorts and underwear. Look
down at your engorged penis. Witness the seductive power of a woman’s slip.
Now, come and fondle us. That’s it. We feel so silky don’t we? Hold us tightly
against your most sensitive and intimate body parts. That’s it, enjoy the
scrumptious sensations. Lose your fear. Forget the humiliation. Enjoy the
moment. We know exactly what will happen, for we were designed to give you
pleasure. Now, slide us against that wonderful hardness. Empty your passion
into our soft and silky nylon fabric, for it is what we wish of you.”
My thoughts switched to Mrs. Summers. What must she think of me? I was now
aware that my penis had become hard, and I was instinctively rubbing myself. I
undid my shorts, and pushed both the shorts and underpants down my legs. I
closed my eyes and relived the events of the afternoon, slowly stroking my
thickened shaft slowly. Flashbacks jumped into my mind quickly. The first
glimpse of her pink slip, her noticing, her eyes boring into mine, touching her
slip, the slips on her bed. Oh, how I longed to have one of her silky slips
right now to keep me company. My arousal grew and the oozing pre-cum leaked
profusely. I ran my palm over the swollen glans. The fluid provided an
excellent lubricant for the task at hand, but not even close to the sensations
that Mrs. Summers’ silky slip would provide. I closed my eyes even more tightly
as I felt the fluid damming up inside me, looking for escape. And, then Mrs.
Summers was there! She’s sitting on my bed watching and smiling knowingly. From
somewhere she produces the black half-slip, and lays it over my pumping fist.
“Here, Frankie, use my slip, honey. I know you want to.”
My body stiffened, and I emitted a strangled “Uhhhh”, and I opened my eyes just
in time to see a geyser of white cum jet violently from the tip of my erection.
It arched gracefully several inches in the air, and then fell heavily onto my
stomach, filling my navel with moist warmness. A second, third and fourth spasm
shook me as thick fluid flowed over my hand, down my swollen shaft, between my
legs and forming a wide puddle on the bedspread. I lay there gently fondling
myself as my penis returned to its natural state.
The next morning as we were leaving for church, I saw Mrs. Summers doing the
same. I waved and she returned the wave. I wondered what she was wearing under
that Navy blue dress. I stepped into the back of his car, still wondering, and
felt the familiar tingle between my legs. Before, during and after church, I
must have noticed a half-dozen women whose slips were peeking out from under the
hem of their dresses or skirts. I found it odd that I had never seen that
before. Or did I?
The following week, I saw Mrs. Summers several times around the neighborhood.
We exchange pleasantries, but she didn’t ask me to help with any chores. I was
disappointed, but in a way relieved. I even felt a bit embarrassed just meeting
her on the street. I assumed that since she didn’t ask me to her house, she must
be angry or disappointed with me for what happened last Saturday. That bothered
me. A lot. I was very, very fond of her, and to lose her friendship because of
what I did was almost unbearable. I had to do something about this.
I waited a few more days. When I wasn’t asked to her house, I went one morning
uninvited. She answered the door, and greeted me, but it wasn’t the same Mrs.
Summers. She didn’t even ask me in.
“Good morning, Frankie”, she said evenly.
“Um, Mrs. Summers, are you mad at me or something?”
“Why, no. Of course not. What makes you think so.”
“Well, it’s been ten days since, um, I helped out around the house. So, I was .
. .”
“Things have been just a little hectic around here. I’ll have you over shortly.
Maybe later in the week, okay?” She started to close the door.
“Um, Mrs. Summers. Could I talk to you for a moment?”
I saw warning signs flash in her eyes. “What about dear?”
I asked to come in, and although she stepped aside, I saw she was hesitant to do
so. She didn’t ask me to sit down.
“Well, what is it Frankie?”
“Um, well, it’s about last week. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Frankie.” But, it’s better if we both forget it, okay?”
“Okay. But, well, it’s been really bothering me. And, there’s some things that
I don’t understand.”
“Frankie, I said forget it,” she said a little sternly.
“But . . .”
“We are not going to discuss this. Period. Now run along, I’ve got a lot of
things to do.”
I left, feeling bad that I had further alienated her.
A few days later my mother told me that Mrs. Summers had some work for me. I was
elated but also somewhat apprehensive. I knocked on her door and she welcomes
me with a friendly smile. I immediately took note of her attire. A tartan
pleated skirt and a white silk blouse with a ruffled front and tiny pearl
buttons. Her bra was clearly visible through the translucent silk. I wondered
if she was wearing a half-slip. She gave me a list of things to do and I went
to work. Several times our paths crossed and we exchanged a few pleasantries.
At each meeting she became a little chattier. A half-empty wineglass was on the
kitchen counter. It was near mid-afternoon and I went into the house to report
mission accomplished. She sat me down at the kitchen table and served snacks
and a coke. She sipped from her glass.
“Listen, Frankie. I want to apologize for my behavior the other day. I could
tell that I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. Will you forgive me?”
“Sure”, I said, feeling greatly relieved. “I apologize too, Mrs. Summers.”
She smiled almost sadly. “Oh, Frankie, you have nothing to apologize for,
dear.”
She emptied her glass and refilled it. “You see, my husband and I are, well,
we’re having some difficulties. He’s seeing someone else. A woman who he works
with.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. You don’t need to hear
this.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Summers. I don’t mind. You always listened to me.”
She smiled sadly again. “Oh, Frankie, you’re such a good boy. If I had son,
I’d want him to be exactly like you.”
She got up from her chair and kissed me motherly on the top of my head. The
front of her blouse grazed my face. Through the white silk I saw the swells of
her breasts spilling out from the lacy cups of her bra. She gently pushed my
head closer against her, and my face buried itself into her blouse, the lacy
bra, and her soft pliant breasts. I suffered an instant erection. She sat back
down, wiping tears away and took another long pull on her drink. Then she began
talking. Almost incessantly and non-stop. The front of her silk blouse moved
like creamy sensuous waves as she spoke, and it captivated me. I stared hard
beneath the blouse at the lacy bra. I was sure I could see the outline of her
nipples. I rubbed myself gently through my shorts. Twenty minutes later, she
was wrapping up.
“I know it won’t change anything, but, I do feel much better. Thank you so
much, Frankie.”
“For what?”
“For listening.”
“You always listened to me, Mrs. Summers.”
“Yes, that’s true. Except the other day. You wanted to talk about some things
that were bothering you, weren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then, I’m all ears.”
I started off haltingly, but the more I talked the easier it became and the
words began flowing. She didn’t say anything, but only nodded occasionally. I
wanted to know what was wrong with me.
“Oh, Frankie, there is nothing wrong with you. Boys your age are curious about
women and everything associated with them. That you’re attracted to certain
articles of women’s clothing is not wrong. Most men have similar attractions.
Perhaps it may be high-heels, maybe leather skirts or pants, nylon stockings – a
lot of different things. But it’s not wrong. It’s a personal and private choice
and has nothing at all to do with you as a human being. Did you know Cary Grant
wears panties?”
“He does.”
She laughed. “Well, so I’ve heard. I don’t know for sure. But, if he does, so
what? Does that make him a threat to society? No, I think not. He is, after
all one of the most popular and respected actors in Hollywood.”
“But, I’m still confused, Mrs. Summers.
“Okay, look at it this way. You eat food don’t you?”
“Yes, everybody does. So what. It’s only natural.”
“Exactly, it’s only natural. Everybody does.”
“Yeah, but everybody doesn’t like ladies slips.”
“No. But then, everybody doesn’t like spinach, now do they? I know you once
told me you hated spinach. It just so happens that I love spinach. You see,
it’s all a matter of taste and choice. I suppose no one really knows why certain
foods taste good to one person, and not so good to another. No one really
cares. Don’t you see Frankie? Everyone has his or her likes and dislikes.
Everyone has certain things that make them feel good – watching a baseball game,
reading a book, eating pizza, kissing. Looking at or touching a slip. There IS
nothing wrong with that, Frankie. Understand?”
It made sense the way she put it. But, I still had some lingering doubts.
“Yes, I understand. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Summers. I always feel better after
talking to you.”
She laughed. “And, I too, Frankie. Anything else troubling you?” she asked
jokingly.
Yes, there was. Wearing a slip. I wanted to from the moment it was suggested.
“Um, the last time. You asked me if I thought I might want to wear a slip.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “And, do you, Frankie?” She asked, in a
hushed and serious voice. “Are you really certain of that?”
“Yes. I want to.”
“If I allow that, you must promise never to tell anyone. Do you understand?
Never. Not even your best friend. Understood?”
“Yes. I won’t ever tell.”
“Very well.” I followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. I was scared,
but oh, so excited. I was actually trembling.
She noticed. “Are you sure about this, dear?”
“Y-yes.”
She opened the drawer and invited me to look in the drawer. “See anything you
like?”
“Everything. Will you choose something for me?”
She smiled. “Of course. Let’s see. Oh, I know. You seemed to like the pink
slip,” she said, and withdrew it and handed it to me. I shivered just holding
it. It was so light and silky and pleasing to look at. “And, how about this?
This is lovely.” She held up a white half-slip and pointed out the long opening
adorned with lovely lace. I wear this under my vented skirts. It’s real pretty
don’t you think?”
I nodded my approval. “Well, I’ll leave you alone, okay?” Call if you need
anything else. She took a few steps, then stopped.
“There’s one other thing, Frankie.” She opened another drawer, studied its
contents for a long moment, and then withdrew two pair of panties. One pink and
one white. “I’m sure you know what these are, don’t you? The pink pair goes with
the pink slip and the white panties with the white slip. Simple, huh?”
I nodded. She tossed them casually on the bed, and left the bedroom. This time
there was no hesitation. I stripped off all of my clothes in record time. There
was no doubt that I wanted to wear that pink slip first. Not ever having done
this before I didn’t know the proper way to don a slip. So holding the slip by
its two satin straps I stepped into it as if putting on a pair of pants and
pulled it up my body. I was instantly aware of the soft nylon fabric against my
skin, and sighed. I had never before felt anything that made my skin feel so
happy. And then the lacy bodice caressed the underside of my erection, followed
by the silky nylon of the slip’s skirt. My oozing left a trail of wetness over
the pretty pink material. I wanted to masturbate right away. I remembered her
panties. I picked them up and held them against my face. They smelled of
perfume and the heady aroma made me stimulated me further. I stepped into them
and thought how these same panties were probably worn not too long ago my Mrs.
Summers. Covering that most secret of all woman’s secrets. This was so
thrilling to be wearing her panties. I slipped them on under the pink slip. I
looked at myself in the full-length mirror and liked what I saw. I liked it a
lot. I would rub myself to orgasm through the slip and panties.
I sensed something. There was Mrs. Summer’s reflection in the mirror. She was
standing in the doorway, her arms folded, a smile on her lips. We just stood
there looking at each other in the mirror.
“I was curious as to which slip you would choose, Frankie. I guessed right.”
She walked into the room and stood behind me. “Well, what do you think? Feels
nice, doesn’t it? I smelled the Sherry on her breath.
I didn’t trust my voice. I nodded my agreement.
“Well, let’s have a look at you, shall we,” stepping in front of me and looking
me up and down. “Ah, I see you decided to wear the panties. That was the proper
decision. A lady should never go without wearing her panties. Do you like the
panties, dear?”
Again a nod. Now I was really scared. I was very close to losing it. I couldn’t
do that with her standing here. I’d be so humiliated to have her see me soil her
panties and slip.
“You look lovely, dear.” She took me by the arm and led me over to the bed and
sat me down. She sat next to me; her skirted thigh pressing against my slip
covered thigh. She adjusted my slip straps. “It’s a little big for you. Of
course I’m much bigger around the chest.” She giggled a little. “But, of course
you know that, don’t you? I saw you staring at the front of my blouse while we
were talking. You were really interested in my bra, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“But, you couldn’t see it very well, I mean with my blouse on, could you?”
“No.”
“But, you’d like to see it, wouldn’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply. Her
fingers slowly undoing each small pearl button. One by one they came undone,
her blouse opening wider with each undone button. More and more of the lacy bra
cups showing. She pulled the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and undid
the remaining two buttons. She held the blouse open so I could see her bra.
This time I knew I could see the nipples beneath the lacy material.
Would you like to touch my bra?” She took my hand and placed my palm on her
bra. Suddenly, I stiffened. I couldn’t control myself. With a loud groan, I
began ejaculating into the pink panties.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, holding me against her, as I flooded the
panties. She stroked my back soothingly, as I continued my orgasm, “It’s okay,
it’s okay.”
When my body went limp she lay me gently on the bed, lifted my hips and reached
under the slip and helped me take off the soaked panties. I was still hard, and
her fingers brushed me. I gasped, softly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She came back with a warm wet washcloth, had me
stand and helped me off with the slip. I was semi-rigid as she knelt before me,
lightly bathing my privates with the cloth. I began to get erect again. She
laughed softly saying something about boys my age having magnificent
recuperative powers.
Dottie
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