Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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The Man In The Shed free porn video
I was eighteen years old. I had had a part-time job during the summer break from technical college, but that had come to an end. As there was only a week left before college started again, it wasn’t worth looking for other work. Instead, I began to get more absorbed in my electronics hobby. Having bought components from a shop in town, I was now undertaking various little projects, the instructions for which were published in the monthly magazines that I now subscribed to.
With both parents at work from Monday to Friday, I was getting bored. Over the last few years, I had developed a panty fetish, which probably started when I had begun to explore my mother’s underwear collection and had taken a couple of pairs. I had also stolen panties from my twenty-year-old sister’s underwear drawer a few times, but she had left home and got married. I had had a few girlfriends but never got beyond feeling them through their panties and getting a hand job from them from time to time. I was still masturbating daily, but even that was becoming a bit routine and not very exciting.
I tried to vary it a bit by using different panties from my collection and still borrowed the odd pair extra from my mother’s panty drawer. No part-time job, no girlfriend, no real excitement.
Around mid-week, I decided to walk down into the town as I needed some more components for my current project. I went down through the allotment gardens on the shortcut route. My mother had some time ago given up her plot, not able to keep up the work needed to continue producing vegetables since she became a full-time worker.
As I was walking past what used to be her plot, I saw an elderly man standing by his shed on the next plot. We greeted each other and he came over to where I had stopped on the track. I had seen him several times before and I remembered that he had often stood chatting to my mother when she was tending her vegetables.
He was probably about fifty, so to me he, did seem quite old.
“Not working anymore?” he enquired, as he approached me.
“Got laid off,” I replied.
“What job were you doing?”
"I worked at a greengrocer's shop part-time, in between college days, Saturdays mostly.”
“No other jobs you can find?”
“Not really. Anyway, only a little while before I go back to college.”
“I don’t suppose it paid much, did it?”
“It was only for a bit of pocket money.”
“But you did work hard, I expect. What, eight or nine hours in a day? What did they pay you?”
I told him I got ten pounds a day and he remarked that he thought that sounded to him like slave labour.
“A good-looking young man like you could earn at least double that in half an hour.”
“Impossible.”
“I can show you how if you like.”
I had a vague notion of what he was going to show me, but I thought, ‘What the hell. If he tries anything I can always kick him in the balls and run.’
He invited me to join him in his shed, where he said that he had two comfortable chairs and a flask of coffee. I was drawn in for some reason. He seemed friendly enough and I could look after myself if I needed to.
His shed was on the back of his plot. The entrance door faced away from the footpath. There were a couple of bushes to the side and around to the front part shielding the shed from view. I followed him and we went down the little path on his plot and around to the door on the front of the shed. I saw that on each side of the door was a small square window, each with a net curtain over it. We went into the shed and he closed the door behind us, pushing a small bolt across to hold it shut. I said a silent prayer to myself, thinking that he must be one of those strange men that my parents had warned me about a few years back.
I was thinking that I may be about to find out what strange old men did to younger men. He must have read my thought because he said, “I’m not going to do anything to you. Anyway, the door is not locked, just held shut with that bolt. If you want to leave, you’re free to go.”
I looked around the shed. There was plenty of light coming through the windows to be able to see clearly. The two old chairs were placed more or less in the middle, padded seats and wooden arms. They were angled in towards each other but slightly distanced by a wooden crate that served as a small table. The crate had a thermos flask and two old china cups on it. There was a gardening bench along the back wall with various garden tools hanging above it. There was even a small paraffin heater which I supposed that he huddled up to if he came here in the winter. Up against one of the side walls was an old three-drawer chest, which had a few blankets and a couple of odd cushions on top of it. The whole interior of the shed looked clean and tidy. There was even a rug on the floor in front of the chairs. The whole place looked cosy and comfortable. On one side wall, there were a few pin-ups showing panty-clad women. They caught my eye and made me secretly wonder if he had the same interest in panties as I did.
“So what are we doing in here, then?” I asked, surprised at how relaxed I felt.
“Just to chat,” he replied. “I get quite lonely, you know.”
“You said you could show me how I could earn some money. How do I earn money sitting around talking?”
“Sit down and let me pour some coffee. Then I will tell you.”
“OK,” I replied, sitting down in one of the chairs.
“How old are you?”
“I was eighteen nearly a month ago.”
“And do you have a girlfriend?” he asked while pouring coffee into the two cups.
“Yes, I have. Well, OK, not right now but I have had. Why do you want to know if I have a girlfriend?”
“I’m just interested. Have you had sex with any of them?”
I had sort of worked out where this was going, and in a split second, I decided to tell him everything that he asked about and see where it took us.
“Not full sex, no. We just, you know, messed around a bit.”
“Tell me more. Look, you don’t have to worry. I won’t repeat a word to anyone. Anyway, I live down in town and have never even set foot in your neighbourhood. I know your mum but I haven’t seen her here for years. Not since she gave up her plot. You don’t know my wife or grown-up daughter, so you’re safe.”
“So why do you want to know about me?” I asked him.
“I get lonely. I sometimes need company to talk to.”
“Just to talk to?”
“Just to chat, yes, although who knows where it may lead?”
“Are you a homosexual?”
“Everyone has it in them, some suppress it, that’s all.”
“But are you?”
“Things are not always that simple. If I tell you a bit about my life, you may understand. I know that you are only young but I’m sure you have a bit of knowledge of these things. Anyway, drink your coffee while it is still warm and I will tell you if you want to listen.”
I told him that I was quite happy to listen to what he had to say, and he began. He told me that he and his wife had led pretty much separate lives for almost ten years. He said that it all started when she walked in on him at home one day and he was holding a pair of their eighteen-year-old daughter’s panties which he had picked up out of the clean laundry that was stacked on the kitchen table. He said that she went crazy and started shouting at him and accused him of ‘fiddling’ with their daughter. She told him that she had been suspicious as she had seen ‘tell-tale signs’ in her daughter’s underwear when she was doing the laundry.
“This was absolute rubbish, of course. I was just curious. That was all there was to it,” he explained. “I also knew that my daughter was having regular sex with her boyfriend at that time as she had confided in me, so it was likely that those were the tell-tale signs in her knickers that my wife thought was something to do with me. She was eighteen after all.”
“And do you like panties now?”
“Yes. I actually have a fetish for them. Do you think that’s strange?”
I thought for a bit about how much I wanted him to know, but then replied. “No. Actually, I like panties too.”
“I see. And do you wear knickers or use them to play with yourself in?”
“Both. And I call them panties, by the way. Knickers sound like the sort of things my grandma used to wear.”
Panties. Knickers. It’s all the same. I sort of think of knickers being the cotton higher-waist-type ones and panties more the sort of little skimpy things.
“Anyway, for now, I would like to tell some more of my story.”
And so he continued. He told me that his wife moved into the spare bedroom and refused to let him even touch her. This, he said, made him become even more in need of sexual release, and realising his attraction to panties, he borrowed his daughter’s very discreetly from time to time right up until the time she left home. He went on to explain that in most other aspects of his relationship, things were as normal as could be expected.
“We ate together, spent evenings together in front of the TV, had a few holidays and all the rest of it, but love and sex had gone.”
He told me how his daughter had married and moved away. His wife, he said, had somehow become even more cold and distant after that.
“I had already had my vegetable plot for quite a few years at that time, with a very small shed for my tools, and decided to put a bigger shed on it, this shed. I thought of it as my bit of temporary escape from married life, and ever since then have been coming here to sit in peace and quiet to read or whatever else I fancy doing.”
“Do you mean you come in here to wank?” I asked quite boldly.
“Well, of course I masturbate in here,” he replied, quite matter-of-fact in his tone. “Every man and boy has to get some relief sometimes, and this is as good a place as any.”
“Yes, of course. Do you have any porn stuff in here?” I enquired.
“We can talk about that later if you want. Let me get back to my story,” he said, sounding a bit impatient.
He continued to tell me about his life, and how he had taken redundancy as early retirement from his job at the age of fourty-eight with a telecom company after many years of service, and with his redundancy pay and early pension payments, he did not look for other employment. He said he had begun to feel even more lonely once he had finished work, but he had managed to keep an interest in his little vegetable plot, which gave him a chance to meet and chat with other plot holders. He told me that back then, every one of the plots was in use. Now, he explained, only four were still in use.
“Has anyone else ever spent time with you in here?” I asked him.
“Only twice, but I’m not sure that I should tell you about it.”
“You can tell me, I won't tell a soul.”
“OK if you are sure. Well, the first time was just after I had built this shed. One of the younger men who had a plot down the track came to have a look at it. He was good-looking and fit. We got talking about sex as men do. One thing led to another and we ended up having sex in here.”
“What, full sex? You mean fucking each other?”
"Yes. It only happened that one time. It was the first and only time I had done that with a man. I enjoyed it, actually. It was something that I had often fantasized about while I was … well … you know, in here on my own. I even keep condoms and lubricant in the drawer over there just in case. I never really thought it would actually happen. He never came here again. In fact, I haven’t even seen him around.”
“And the second time, what happened then?”
“Do you promise not to breathe a word to anyone?”
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
“Well, the thing is, it was your mother. It happened about five years ago. She came round to bring back a garden fork that I had lent her when hers had broken. She tapped on the door and walked straight in. I had completely forgotten to slide the little bolt across, which I am normally so careful about. I was sitting in this chair, facing the door, and I was at it. ”
“Wanking?”
“Yes, that’s right. I was masturbating. I had my trousers right off, I was sitting in my chair and was wearing a pair of my daughter’s navy blue knickers. She looked at my stiff prick sticking straight out over the waistband of the knickers, with me gently rubbing it, and I thought that she would turn and run.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No, she didn’t. She said something like, ‘Oh, poor you. You must get lonely in here on your own.’ Then she pulled that other chair around to face me and sat down in it. She suggested that perhaps she should help me out. She made no comment at all about the knickers. My dick, which had begun to soften a bit with the embarrassment, began to stiffen again, and without another word, she took it in her hand and masturbated me. She was so gentle. I lasted for about five minutes and then just before I ejaculated, she pulled the knickers out from my body and up so that my dick was inside them. With a few more strokes, I came my load into the knickers. I remember that it was quite a healthy load and some of it landed on your mother’s hand. She told me not to worry about that, then stood up, said goodbye and left. When she had gone, I stood up, pushed the bolt on the door, sat back in my chair and masturbated into the knickers again.”
“Wow. What happened after that? Did she ever come back again?”
“I hoped that she would, but I haven’t seen her since. I assumed that was why she had given up her plot – I thought she was ashamed or embarrassed.”
“No, you don’t have to feel guilty about that. She gave it up because she got a job and didn’t have time for it anymore.”
“Oh well, that’s a relief. I really thought I had frightened her away.”
“Bloody hell. My own mother. So! What would you like me to do? The same as my mother did? Would that be enough? I’m not sure that I would want to do much else.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d rather you told me a bit more about yourself now.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Lots of things, but I would be interested in hearing about your sex life. You said just now that you liked knickers. What do you do with them? Where do you get them?”
“Actually, my panty fetish story is a long one,’’ I explained. I then began to tell him about my panty adventures with my girlfriends and on my own. I also told him about the time my sister had caught me masturbating while wearing a pair of her panties.
“I was actually in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed when she walked in on me. She told me that I had to let her watch me cum in the panties or she would tell our parents. She even gave me a bit of a hand.”
“Well, you have certainly had more excitement than I have,” he said when I had finished. “Do you still have any knickers?”
“I’ve got a few pairs.”
“None of your sister’s, I suppose? I really like those high-waist cotton knickers that some girls wear. Especially navy blue ones.”
“Are you asking me to get you some, because my sister has left home now, although I have got a couple of pairs that I stole from her. I’ve used them a fair bit, but I suppose I could let you have a pair. I’ve got some of my mother’s sexier ones as well. Little thin cotton ones, lacy ones, even a pair of silk ones. What about a pair of those?”
“I’d really like the other ones, the navy blue cotton ones. I’ll pay you for them.”
“I’ll see what I can do. By the way, you said we could talk about porn material.”
“Ah yes, I did. Well, go and open the top drawer in that chest.”
This I did and discovered two stacks of magazines inside.
“Take out whatever you fancy. You can take a couple home with you if you want.”
I stood in front of the drawer and browsed through a couple of the mags from one stack. They were German. There were pictures of couples actually having sex, blow jobs, anal, the lot. I had never seen the likes of these before.
“Are there any showing women with panties on?” I asked.
“Those are in the other stack. Take your pick. Why don’t you take one of the German ones you were just looking at and a couple of the knicker ones. Try not to stick the pages together.”
“I’ll be careful with them. And I will bring them back.”
“Actually no, you can keep them. I’ve got more than I need. And if you stick the pages together that will be your loss. Now, what about these knickers? When can you come back here with them?”
“How about Friday?”
“OK, Friday then. Can you be here around two-thirty?”
“I’ll be here.”
I had noticed that during our chat, his face had flushed a bit, and as I glanced down at his trousers, I spotted the tell-tale bulge. I thought it likely that he would ask me to help him with it, but he didn’t.
I picked up the magazines and tucked them out of sight, folded under my arm. He put a hand in his pocket and got his wallet out, extracted a ten-pound note, and gave it to me.
“What’s that for? I haven’t done anything to earn it,” I remarked.
“Call it hush money if you like,” he replied. “Anyway, I enjoyed your company and I’ve got a bit of money with not much to spend it on, so it’s not a problem. When you come back on Friday, perhaps you can earn some more.”
We said goodbye and I set off home. As I walked I asked myself if I wanted to let this lead to further things. Then, ‘what the fuck,’ I told myself. ‘I could do with the money, and it’s not as if he is going to murder me or rape me or something.’
I lay in my bed that night running through everything that we had said and trying to think if there was any possible danger in what was likely to happen on Friday.
I desperately needed to masturbate before I could sleep. I had an erection that made my bed covers look like a boy scout's tent. I got out of bed and went over to where I had stashed my new porn mags in my underwear drawer. A quick flick of the pages of the German one, and I was drawn to the centre-fold. It showed a fairly mature but trim woman with her legs spread wide open and her gash facing the camera. Her juicy lips down there were huge and bright red. I had never seen such a mass of pubic hair before either. I then noticed that she had huge bushes of hair sprouting from her armpits too.
I decided that I would put on my favourite pink panties and then I put the mag, with centrefold open, on my bed and began to masturbate onto it. I had it in my head that it would be exciting to actually cum on her between her fanny lips.
And that is what I did. As soon as I had finished ejaculating, I quickly grabbed the magazine and pulled the centrefold pages out of it so as not to spoil the other pages. I carefully folded up the spoiled centre-fold and put it carefully in my waste bin, hidden with other rubbish in there.
I put the magazines safely away, removed my pink panties, wiped myself with them and hid them under my bed. ‘I’ll wash them tomorrow,’ I thought.
I climbed into bed and was soon dead to the world.
I woke up early. It was Thursday morning. I reminded myself that I still had another whole day to go before my return to the shed. My parents had left for work, and for once I didn’t wake up with a hard-on. I decided to carry on with a bit of my electronics project, but straight away remembered that I hadn’t made it to the town the day before to get the bits I needed.
I remembered then that I must sort out some panties for the man in the shed as I had promised. I thought to myself that I had better take him a pair of the navy blue ones that I had promised him. Some decent ones that had not been used too much, which most of mine had, and then remembered that my sister had told me that she had left me two or three pairs behind when she left. With my mother now using that bedroom, I doubted that they would still be there. Worth a look, though. To my surprise, there they were in the bottom drawer of what had been my sister’s chest along with a few other odd bits of clothing just as she had left them. I grabbed the panties up and took them back to my room to inspect them. There were a couple of pairs of quite sexy-looking panties, but the third pair was a pair of navy blue cotton ones that looked hardly worn. Bingo!
Friday morning I set off to my rendezvous with the shed man with the navy blue panties in my pocket. He was there and sitting in his chair with the door open.
“Ah, you made it OK. I thought that you may change your mind,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Why would I do that?” I enquired.
“I thought you might be scared.”
“Of a horny old man? I have had scarier things in my life to deal with.”
“Anyway, I’m glad you made it. Did you remember to bring me something?”
“Of course,” I said, and produced the panties from my pocket. I saw a definite twitch in the front of his trousers.
He took them from me and held them up.
“Absolutely perfect. Are they your sister’s?”
“Well, they were. She left them behind for me when she left home.”
“Lucky you. Anyway, have a sit down and we can have a coffee and a chat while I decide what to do with them. Can I keep them, by the way, or will you want them back?”
“Call them a present. They are like new as you can see. They’re yours to keep.”
“Thank you. Anyway, what would you like to do?” he enquired.
‘’I’ll let you decide.’’
“OK. Would it be alright if I asked you to put them on?”
I was a little bit nervous but said, “OK, if that’s what you want me to do.”
“I would really like that,” he said keenly. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to bugger you or anything. Whatever you are not comfortable with, tell me and we will not do it. If we do carry on, then tell me to stop at any time and we will stop.”
I felt fairly safe with him by now, so I took off my jeans and underpants, at which point he commented on what a nice prick I had. I put the panties over my feet and slowly pulled them up. I did of course know how perfectly they would fit. I had, after all, worn my sister’s panties many times before. I also knew that the feel of them would give me a full-blown erection.
“They seem to have had a bit of an effect on you,” he observed. “Never mind, we can deal with that in a little while. What I would like now is to drop my trousers and pants, and for you to sit on my lap.”
“OK. I don’t mind.”
In no time at all, he was standing in front of me with his now erect prick sticking out in front. It was, I observed, quite large and knobbly. The blue vein which ran up theTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Jayla
- 24.06.2021
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