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Lingerie for Lodgers
Society is very comfortable, approving even, of older men in sexual
relationships with younger women (provided they are above the age of
consent, of course). Society is less approving, however, of older women
in sexual relationships with younger men. As an attractive woman in my
mid-thirties, I find such double standards to be disappointing, to say the
least. However, since my husband died six years ago, leaving me a large
house and a substantial inheritance, I have found a way to further my
interest in the younger male, without attracting too much disapproval from
friends and neighbours.
Having a large house, with a number of spare rooms, I am happy to rent out
a room or two to young men in their final year at the local boarding
school (they encourage older pupils to board away from the school
dormitories) or in their first couple of years at the local college. This
provides me with a perfectly reasonable excuse to have young men between
the ages of 17 and 19 around the house without arousing comment, although
it is fairly obvious that I don't really need the extra income.
However, my interests in young men extend into slightly more exotic areas
beyond simple sex, although I do very much enjoy vanilla sex with a young
man in his prime. After all, I am in my sexual prime too! In exploring
these interests I have developed a little test, shall we say, that I put
all my lodgers through. As well as providing bed and breakfast for my
guests, I also do their laundry for them. After a week or two, I will
place a pile of their neatly ironed and folded clothes on the bed, with a
little additional surprise inside. By 'mistake' their laundry will contain
folded inside a pair of my silky bikini briefs. The test is to see if the
panties are returned and, I'm happy to say, that doesn't always happen.
Of course, most of my lodgers simply do return the panties. If they hand
them back promptly and matter-of-factly as if they had got into their
laundry by mistake, I know those are normal, straight young men. Those
are the boys that I'll invite into my bed, often with the promise of
getting to see me wear the delicate undergarment they've just returned,
and, I'm pleased to report, I haven't had a single refusal to date. I do
so love the enthusiasm, vigour and stamina of a younger sexual partner, so
I think we both end up happy.
However, many only return the panties after a few days, blushing and
embarrassed as they return my underwear and I just know they've tried them
on. Some don't even return them at all, sometimes hiding them so I can't
retrieve them although I'll often find them scrunched up under their bed
with some heavy staining of semen.
Perhaps my earliest real 'success' was a first year Malaysian student,
taking engineering at the local college. He was very slight and quite
feminine in his mannerism anyway and not too surprisingly he didn't return
the panties that I slipped into his laundry (I found them a few days later
under his bed, clearly worn although still clean). After that, he seemed
to change very quickly. When I went to collect his next load of laundry
from the basket in his room, his normal white cotton boxer shorts were
completely absent. Instead, the basket was filled with a variety of
girl's briefs in a range of colours trimmed with contrasting lace.
Over the term he gradually dressed in more feminine, or at least
androgynous, style. He would wear floral or pastel tops and girl's jeans,
rather than the denim shirt and jeans that most engineering students
seemed to prefer. He also acquired two full-length stain nightdresses,
one in navy blue with white lace trim and one in a deep scarlet red. It
was all I could do to stop myself entering his room and jumping on him
when I saw him wearing them through his slightly open door as he was
getting ready for bed. By the end of the term, he was even wearing the
most subtle make-up - a little mascara and eye-liner and lipstick in a
neutral shade.
I deeply regret not taking things further with my little Asian angel, but
it was early days and I lacked some of my current confidence. When the
time came for him to return home, he gave me the most wonderful gift of a
silk kimono-style dressing gown. He also admitted that, against his
parents' wishes, he was not returning to Singapore to complete his
engineering degree but was instead travelling to Thailand to try and
become a stage dancer. I never found out if he succeeded but I hope he
did.
Since then, I've had a few other happy 'victims' of my panty trick. There
was Tom, a final year pupil at the school, who burst into tears when I
'accidentally' walked in on him trying on the bikini briefs he'd found in
his laundry. He spent the weekends for the rest of the year as Tamara, an
adorable little toddler girl that wore pretty, frilly dresses, loved to
play dress-up with her dollies and draw pictures of fairies and princesses
with her crayons. Then there was Mike, who was so helpful around the
house that I bought him a French Maid's uniform. My maid, Mimi, happily
cleaned my house and did various other chores every Saturday morning. Her
reward afterwards was to clean my pussy with her tongue before being
allowed to come herself on my shoes (which she also happily cleaned with
her tongue).
My greatest success, however, was Robert, a History student at the college
a few years ago. Robert was quite slightly built, with delicate pale
skin, big blue eyes and blonde hair that was shoulder length but he wore
tied back in a short ponytail. I was sure from the start that he was
going to fall for the panties trick and he didn't disappoint. My real
breakthrough came the following weekend when I asked Robert what his plans
were that evening. He didn't have any and I suggested that, as I also had
no plans, perhaps we could have a girl's night in. He blushed deeply but
didn't run away and asked what it would involve. I told him that normally
it would involve a few glasses of wine, a couple of romantic films and
doing each other's hair and nails but we could dispense with the hair and
nails if he wanted. Blushing even deeper, he stammered that he would be
happy to join me and do my hair and nails for me if I wanted.
That evening after dinner I excused myself and slipped upstairs to change
into a pink silk baby-doll nightie and panties with a comfortable
towelling dressing gown over it. Returning downstairs, I kissed Robert
softly on the lips and told him that, if he wanted, I'd put some more
comfortable clothes on his bed and he could get changed for our girl's
evening. He went upstairs and shortly returned dressed in an identical
dressing gown with, I knew, an identical nightie to mine underneath. I
smiled, took his hand and sat him down on the sofa and handed him a glass
of white wine. We spent the next hour and a half watching a romantic
comedy, laughing and chatting naturally like two best friends.
When the movie finished, I brought out my box of nail polish. I manicured
his nails and applied a clear coat of polish to show him how it was done.
He went on to do the same for me, applying a bright scarlet polish before
I asked him to do the same for my toes. He happily agreed and I made sure
he received plenty of teasing glimpses of my silk panties while he worked.
I asked if he was enjoying himself and he told me that he very much was.
I suggested I try applying a little make up to him and, with only a little
reluctance, he agreed. I applied very light mascara and eyeliner, a
little pink eye shadow and some light coral lipstick. Even these basic
cosmetics totally changed his appearance and he seemed totally fascinated
by the new, feminine face when I showed him the results in the mirror.
By now, the atmosphere in the room had become less light-hearted and was
charged with a frisson of arousal between us. Leaning in, I kissed him
longer and harder this time, relishing the feel of his soft, glossy lips.
I told him we could stop any time he wanted but he simply shook his head
silently, consenting to me going further. I removed his dressing gown and
caressed his body through the thin satin of his nightdress, teasing and
gently pinching his nipples until his breath was coming in short, urgent
pants.
Laying him back on the sofa, my hand moved to the front of his panties,
cupping and caressing his cock. He wasn't very large, perhaps three
inches long and quite thin, certainly no symbol of masculine virility
between his legs. My stroking and massaging became steadily faster,
almost as if I was massaging a clit through the panties, and I was
rewarded with soft, almost girlish, moans and cries of pleasure.
Eventually, those moans reached a climax and he stiffened, his little cock
twitching and soaking his panties as he cried out in the ecstasy of his
orgasm.
Afterwards I gazed lovingly down at him, asking if he'd enjoyed himself.
He told me it had been the most amazing experience ever and I teased him
by asking if he meant the sex or getting dressed up as a girl. Blushing,
he confessed it was a bit of both, addressing me formally as 'Miss
Bryson'. I laughed, and told him that now he should call me by my first
name, 'Shirlie'. When he responded with a 'Yes, Miss Shirlie,' I hugged
him tight and told him, that if that was how he was going to behave, from
now on I would call him 'Rebecca'. He seemed surprised at the suggestion
before considering for a few seconds and finally confessing that he loved
the name and asking if he should be called 'Becca' or 'Becky' for short.
It was my turn to ponder for a second, before suggesting that we use
'Becca'. He asked if there was anything 'Becca' could do for me and I
assured him there most certainly was, guiding his delicate hand down to
the front of my panties.
After that, life changed considerably for Rebecca and me. Every weekday,
'Robert' would head out to college dressed as a boy, although with a
little pair of lacy panties under his trousers. On returning home in the
evening, he would head straight to his room and change into something more
'comfortable' and do his hair and make-up before joining me downstairs as
Rebecca. On weekends, of course, Robert was absent and Rebecca was in the
house, and often in my bed, from Friday evening to Monday morning.
Rebecca and I were inseparable, enjoying dinner dates, trips to the
theatre and cinema and shopping trips. Especially shopping trips. My
little princess just loved the ritual of going into clothing stores,
browsing through the racks of clothes, picking out a few items to try on,
going to the changing rooms and giving me a show of what she'd chosen and
buying the clothes that we both liked best. Her collection of clothing
grew quickly - shoes, dresses, skirts, blouses, pants, nightwear, lingerie
and panties. Particularly panties. It seems teenage girls these days can
never have too many panties, I barely found myself washing the same pair
twice.
Of course, no one raised an eyebrow at two women out together as they
might have had I been accompanied by a young man. As far as they were
concerned, we were simply two female friends or mother and daughter or
aunt and niece. If only the boys glancing appraisingly at pretty Rebecca
knew what she had under the cute skirt she was wearing or what we got up
to in bed, I thought to myself. Our sex life was fantastic. Becca never
seemed interested in penetrative sex with me, although she would have been
more than welcome. However, she quickly became more than expert at
pleasuring me with her fingers and tongue and the growing collection of
sex toys that we built up.
Sadly, our relationship came to an end after about 18 months. Rebecca
confessed to me that she had fallen in love with a man who loved her back
and she wanted to pursue their relationship. It seems that my girl had
developed a craving for cock that even my strap-on couldn't satisfy (or,
perhaps had encouraged in the first place?). I was devastated but I had
to let her go, I wanted her to be happy and, clearly, I could no longer
give her what she needed.
I saw Becca again about three months ago, although she didn't see me. She
was in a queue for the cinema with a smartly dressed, distinguished
looking middle-aged man. Her long blonde curled hair was resting on his
shoulder as she leaned her head against him. She was holding one of his
hands in front of her, clasped in both her hands, and smiling blissfully.
Very much the image of a young girl in love. She was wearing a short,
bright red overcoat (presumably with an even shorter skirt underneath),
black opaque stockings and black knee-length boots with a high heel. The
bulges in the front of her coat suggested that she had gone well beyond
stuffing her bra with the B-cup breast forms I had given her.
I found the idea that she might have swapped her little penis for a pretty
pussy intensely arousing. On getting home that evening I prevailed upon
my latest young stud to fuck me three times I was so horny at the thought.
I still miss my little angel Becca, but I'm glad that she seems happy and
is living as a girl now.
Anyway, life goes on. My current lodger is a language student, Peter. He
has perfect olive skin, long dark hair and beautiful big brown eyes with
full lips. He's very slim, with wonderful long legs that I know will look
just perfect in stockings and heels. I put him to the panty test a couple
of days ago and, not too surprisingly, they haven't been returned. I'm
about to confront him about it, taking some of my other pretty lingerie to
his room to see if he'll give me a little fashion show. I'm thinking that
he might become Penelope - Penny for short - but we'll see what he
prefers. Wish me luck, dear reader, and let me know if you're ever in
town looking for accommodation.
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