Peed Panties Novels & Stories

This was getting interesting. The latex stretched over my backside and hips, but was very tight. I had to tug it to get it in place. As I pulled the dress on, I realized unless you looked very closely, you wouldn't notice it. There was no panty line and the vibrator didn't stick out in front. If anything, at first glance you might think I was going commando. Dawn had not brought a bra with her, so that would be obvious under the thin dress she chose. The dress itself wasn't particularly sexy or inappropriate. Dawn told me it was a "Petal and Pup, Tuscany Dress." It was simple, didn't show any cleavage and came down close to my knees. It was only improper because of what I had on under it and

I watch his eyes as they travel over every inch of my chest, down to my stomach. Deliberately, I reach down to my side, undo the button, and unzip my skirt, smiling at him. When he grasps the hem I lift my hips, making it easy for him to slide it down, and soon it's on the floor. Now I hold my breath, watching him as he takes in my body, and the panties I selected for him this morning, not a bikini, but black, lacey, almost sheer. I know they are already a little damp, but I don't think he should mind that. After all, it is his fault.

“Now get on the desk. Legs open.” I scrambled up, bare ass against cool wood, legs parted wide. I was soaked already, trembling with nerves and want. He knelt between my legs and hooked a finger under the waistband of my panties. “Cute,” he said. “Pink lace. What kind of student wears panties like this to class?” “The kind who needs extra credit?” I whispered. He grinned. “Exactly.” He peeled them down my thighs, slow and deliberate, and brought the fabric to his nose.

She grins. She continues to peel herself out of her clothes in time with the music until she is only wearing her bra and panties. They definitely weren’t the ones she was wearing earlier. They are a dark pink matching set, made mostly of sheer lace. She saunters over to me, turning her back; she places both her hands on my legs and lowers herself onto my lap, grazing my cock with her lace-covered ass.

She was always complaining, slowing everyone down. Jack, on the other hand, seemed to have endless patience and indulgence for her. "Alright. Let's see what's so heavy." He stopped the group, knelt, and opened Dakota's backpack himself. In front of everyone, she carefully pulled out her precious belongings, as if presenting a prized collection. There was a full set of luxury travel-sized skincare, a nearly unused oversized power bank, chips in every flavor, jelly, sour belts… and a heavy jar of peanut butter.

Even Kaileeh found a red one. As we made our way over to the panties and bra section, I found a few of those I liked. I picked out a blue set, a red set, a purple set, a black set with red trim, and a yellow set. They all came with boy shorts. I don’t like thongs. When I was done there, I headed over to the perfume. I’d just picked out two when a salesgirl came over to me. “Can I help you?” she asked with a sugary sweet, fake smile.

“Been aching since three p.m. imagining exactly how these come off.” I hooked two fingers into the waistband of her skirt and yanked the zipper down in one sharp pull. The sound of metal teeth parting was obscenely loud in the quiet hallway. I let the fabric fall, pooling black around her ankles. Black lace panties. The ones I’d bought her six weeks ago—delicate satin ribbons tied at each hip, barely-there triangles that left nothing to decency. My fingertips ghosted along the scalloped edge, then dipped beneath. She was drenched. Slick heat coated my fingers instantly; her swollen clit throbbed under the lightest brush of my thumb.

With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, I carefully pulled the lingerie from the hanger. Stepping out of my clothes, I stood before the full-length mirror. The soft light from the chandelier bathed the room, casting a romantic glow. I slipped the panties up my legs, feeling the coolness of the lace against my skin. They fit perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. The intricate patterns of the lace seemed to accentuate every dip and swell, creating an alluring silhouette.

Clothes are flung everywhere, and there's a pyramid of beer cans on the table. "This... is not going to work," I mutter, stepping into the living room. "What?" he shrugs. A bright pair of blue panties catches my eye. Using my pointer finger and thumb like tweezers, I tug them out of the gray chair and hold them up. They're so small I couldn't fit one leg in them. Is that the kind of girls Max is into?

Even with this dreary weather, it’s hard for me to be in a sour mood when I’m with Damiem especially when he’s being so playful. “What about these?” I ask him, picking up a practical pair of lace-trimmed cotton boyshorts. Everything in here is so expensive; it was the first pair of underwear I spotted with a semi-reasonable price tag, which would also fit comfortably. “Well, not really my color. I need something to bring out my eyes,” he winks. “Not for you! Me, silly!” He strolls over and takes the pair of panties from me. He rubs the modest fabric between his fingers and inspects the delicate stitching. “Nope,” he shakes his head.