Wer Panties Novels & Stories

Stephanie extricated herself from the swimsuit and pulled a black lace bra and matching panties out of a bag. She pulled the panties on while facing away from Andrea, and so was unaware of her friend’s lustful staring. The panties were semi-transparent and a seam ran up the back so that they hugged all the curves of her bottom. Then she wriggled into the bra, which was similarly sheer. Her perky nipples were clearly visible through it.

Chris was absolutely stunned by what he saw. The red panties. The same red panties he remembered so well from under the stairs she had on. They were the perfect matching value and hue of red as the Santa suits they both wore. The soft curving slope of the cheeks of her ass was like the velvet surface inside a diamond jewelry box. And the cut was very French. The innocent slightly naughty sexiness of her panties was stunning and Chris literally lost his breath. He didn't realize he had lost his swallowing control also, until he tried to drink a sip of wine and immediately choked. "UGG HAKKK" he coughed.

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.”

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.

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.

Davina POV “Better?” I ask, arching my back a little. The tips trickle in, $5 here, $8 there. Barely scraping seventy-five total. NightRider88: shorts next SugarKing: $15 for the panties I stand, turning so the camera catches the curve of my hips, and slide my thumbs into the waistband of the shorts. “Hey, Sugar King. You always this sweet?” I ease them down slowly, bending just enough to give them a show, then step out and kick them away.

“I don’t want you wearing your mother’s old underpants, and they’re too sexy for a girl your age anyway. You need new, clean underwear that belongs to you alone.” “Dad!” she laughs. “I’m eighteen! Don’t you think these underpants are a little young, though?” She holds up a pair to show me, draped over her pointer finger. It’s white cotton spattered with tiny pink flowers, and a miniature pink bow at the front of the waistband. They’re cute. “You’re seventeen,” I answer emphatically. “And no.” I frown, but I know she can see the amusement in my eyes. “Those are proper underpants. Anyway, is there someone looking at your panties who’s going to care?”

She unfastened her jeans with tantalizing slowness, seeming to lower the zipper a notch at a time. Her panties showed at last. They were skimpy bikinis, slung so low that a fringe of pussy hair showed above the elastic. Manuela shook her hips and the jeans fell all the way down her legs and she stepped out of them, completely naked, except for her tight panties. The sheer fabric of those panties hugged Manuela's crotch so snugly that the outline of her cunt was beautifully obvious. She rubbed herself through the clinging yellow nylon until it was darkened by a spreading stain of her pussy juice.

"I like a motivated man. Yes, I think this will fit quite nicely..." That was enough to motivate me to pay (marginally less) attention to her breasts. I reached out and tugged down on her tight-fitting shorts and they reluctantly pulled free of her curvy hips. Another tug and they dropped to her ankles, leaving me to appreciate the lovely v-shaped chevron of her panties. They were a conservative beige, like her bra, and covered a hell of a lot more than a thong would have, but they were still like a beautiful arrow pointing to paradise.

Adjusting the straps to ensure a comfortable fit, she admired herself in the mirror, revelling in her sensuality. Next, she reached for the matching panties, a sheer and delicate fabric that left little to the imagination. She gently slid them up her legs, the fabric gliding sensually against her smooth skin, and she wriggled her waist to hug her hips perfectly. As she admired her reflection, a soft, satisfied sigh escaped her lips, knowing that she was a vision of desire.