Panties Novels & Stories

I chose a short pink tight lycra miniskirt and black top with open shoulders and tummy. I struggled with whether to wear panties. I tried a few, but couldn’t get the pants lines not to show! What the hell, I would go pantiless. I would just have to be careful. I checked myself out in the mirror. I loved how my ass looked in this skirt! I looked and felt so hot!

Alina pov I knelt patiently outside his office door, sitting back on my heels, wearing nothing but the delicate red lace panties I had bought just for him. The waiting was torture. The air smelt like the thick scent of arousal. Mr Parker ordered yesterday not to wash my pussy. The dried remains of my cum still clung on my skin, making it unbearable to control my desire. I had worn the same panties all night, touching myself again and again thinking about his long hard dick, that was going to get buried deep inside me.

Instead I pressed on. "And this," I said, pausing for dramatic effect, "is what a bride's panties look like." I slowly pulled my dress up to my chest. Jake's mouth dropped open. "Wow," he said. I looked down at Jake's pants. I recognised the big bulge I'd seen many times before. The sight of it made me feel woozy. "I love how they're sort of transparent," he said. The panties I wore were mostly white sheer material with a solid white patch covering my pussy.

Her skin was fair, luminous, almost translucent, and I could see the blue veins beneath the surface, a map of treasures I had never imagined I would be allowed to explore. She smiled, seeing my gaze. “Like what you see?” she asked, her voice a provocative whisper. “Anya…” “Wait. It’s not over.” Her hands moved down to the sweatpants. She untied them slowly, her fingers sliding along the waistband of the panties I had not yet seen. When the pants fell, revealing her long, toned legs, I held my breath. The panties were a thong. Black. Tiny. Damn. “You’re a bitch,” I whispered, my voice failing.

"They get punished?" "They get punished. Stand up Mother and lift your skirt." She did exactly as I said and with relish, raised her pleated brown skirt up around her waist. She wore pantyhose without any panties underneath, they were pulled up tight and the gusset of the crotch was damp from her pussy. "Well at least I can't accuse you of wearing the incorrect panties today young lady but those pantyhose will have to come down." Again she did as I ordered, pulling them down mid thigh. "Now, over my knee Mother."

First, she chose a dainty pair of pale blue panties and matching silk bra. “Davin, will you assist please?” She asked. “Of course, Love.” I said, only too happy to be touching her. They were a perfect fit and they cupped her voluptuous breasts and left a small dimple where her nipples pressed out. Perfect. Next, she looked over the pants and pulled out a pair of faded jeans. She laughed happily and slipped them on. Perfect, they stretched over her rounded ass, accentuating her curves.

Andy nodded, pouting. "As you can remember, someone was chasing me then. And I jumped from the outside to your backyard. And I saw that there were clothes hanging, and at that time I had a wound on my arm so I planned to take a cloth to aid my wound, BUT! I got something else. And that is your... your panty with Monday written on it. Come to think of it, Baby, you haven't shown me the Tuesday to Sunday panties yet," Andy buried her face in Clein's chest and slapped him in embarrassment. In the morning…

I say walking towards her. Brown eyes? Can this girl be anymore perfect? She stare down at herself getting up. Oh gwash " What happened to my clothes? " " I cahnged them for- " " What?! The fuck stranger? " She pushes at my chest. I don't move. " What'd you see? " Full but medium breasts, pretty vagina, flat stomach... " What's the colour of my panties? " " Brown "

In disbelief, Jasmine dangled a pair of silky panties up in the air. The material parted at the crotch, forming a butterfly. She’d never owned such a scandalous undergarment in her life, and she couldn’t believe Wiley would actually bring her such a thing. Yet here they were, several pairs of them. Yep, she could choose to be risqué in fire engine red, pink, black, white or midnight blue. It got worse.

I ask, my fingers wrapping around the impossibly thin waistband of her crimson panties. “Five-hundred-something,” she replies, his voice high and thin in her chest. A ridiculous amount for such a small speck of fabric, but I’ve bought bottles at the club for ten times that price. I tear them off her hips, flinging them onto the floor. “No panties, tonight, darling.”