MEN in PANTIES STORIES
 
 

For years, I've had a panty fetish. I know it started in my teens, when I tried on a pair of white cotton panties that belonged to the younger sister of a close friend. It was an incredibly erotic experience. But it was not until many, many years later when I put on a skimpy lace panty belonging to my wife that it truly started to become a fetish. I eventually accumulated a few pairs of my own panties and I'd take them with me on business trips and get dressed up in my hotel room at night. I got a lot of personal satisfaction from my little hobby but suspected that, at the margin, I was being a little weird.

The advent of the internet showed me that, apparently, I was not alone in my attraction to wearing panties. There are, it turns out, a lot of other seemingly “normal” heterosexual men out there that get off wearing women's panties. I discovered that there were literally thousands of pictures on dozens of panty-specific web sites to prove it. I started to spend far too many hours searching out these sites, finding it as exciting to see photos of a man's cock bulging out of a skimpy panty as seeing young women in and out of similar lingerie.

Although I was hooked, for various personal reasons I had not gone the extra step of contributing photos of myself to these vast internet collections. Maybe I was being selfish. On a trip to Las Vegas, I was alone in my hotel room, modeling my collection of panties and related lingerie in front of a full length mirror, when the thought came to me that it would be incredibly exciting to model it in person for another man with the same fetish. The internet seemed the perfect way for me to find someone with whom to do so, but I had two key concerns. First, I'd want to meet someone on the road, so there would be little chance of us ever running into each other socially or in a business context. And second, would the kind of individual who would respond to such an offer be someone with whom I would be comfortable meeting in private.

With these concerns in mind, I posted a few messages about upcoming trips on different web sites but did not get any replies. On another occasion, it looked as if I might hook up with either of two individuals. But in the end, neither meeting took place. Then, more recently, I tried again, posting messages that I’d be in a certain city in about a month. I received no replies until four days before the planned trip when I got a message asking me for additional details. I gladly responded. By the next day, there was a suggestion of maybe getting together. By the following day, we had a day, a time, and a public meeting place. I started to think of little else.

On the day before my trip, when there was no re-confirmation of the meeting, I began to think that perhaps we would not get together after all. But after getting to my destination, I learned when I checked my e-mail that the plan was still on. I attended my meetings and then, with just two hours until the rendezvous, started to prepare. I checked out the meeting place, the route from there to my two-room suite, and thought about such details as whether we would go to the room together or separately. Back in my room, I planned to have him sit on the couch in the suite's living room while I went back and forth to the bedroom to change. I cleared off the coffee table and tested whether it would hold my weight as a stage from which to model. Then I went into the bedroom, took off my clothes, and tried on each of the panties and other lingerie I wanted to model for my anticipated guest. Despite my precautions, I got an unwanted spot of pre-cum on one of the panties. I rushed to wash and dry it, wanting everything to be “just right.” I then carefully laid out each of my outfits in a drawer in the order that I wanted to model them. I was ready.

My mind set on how the modeling session would go, I went into the bathroom with razor and shaving cream to complete my physical preparations. I had told my expected guest that I enjoy having a clean-shaven scrotum and short pubic hairs, and he had replied that he found this arousing. I spread shaving cream all over and around my erect cock, resisting all temptation to jack off to relieve the tension I was feeling, and proceeded to shave off much of my pubic hair in addition to the little stubble that had grown on my balls. I showered, lathered myself in body lotion, and looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go. I vowed to wait until T minus twenty minutes to get dressed.

At T minus twenty, cock erect and still oozing pre-cum, I got ready, still not entirely believing that I was actually going through with the plan to fulfill my fantasy. I put on what I had decided would be my first outfit: a white nylon bikini panty from Victoria's Secret and a pair of nude pantyhose that my wife had so conveniently tossed into the trash that weekend. I slipped on the khakis and shirt that I had agreed to wear so that I would be recognized and I left for the meeting place, my heart beating and my cock stiff in my panties.

We met, at the time and place previously agreed upon and found a private space in public to sit and talk. To say that I felt awkward, nervous, and inarticulate would be the understatement of the year. In my own mind, I think I had decided to “do it” unless he turned out to be particularly unkempt or physically threatening. Since he was neither, I was ready to go for it. He needed to talk more about his thought process, about an earlier experience that was unsatisfactory, and to hear from me about how my interest in panties and a rendezvous had developed. And, thankfully, he was incredibly concerned about the risks involved and talked about wanting to take every precaution against them. We'd, of necessity, pause the conversation as other people walked by. And at one point I was nervous that, since my legs were crossed and a pant leg was hiked slightly, perhaps my pantyhose-clad calf was showing.

Finally, we agreed to go to my room and act out my fantasy. He followed at a short distance and, within minutes, we were alone in my hotel room. He took a seat in a chair near the couch as I, very nervously said I’d go to the bedroom to change. I then admitted I was already wearing something, and asked whether he wanted to see it. He replied yes, so I returned to the outer room and began, awkwardly, removing my clothing. I quickly slipped out of my shirt and my pants and went to stand in front of him dressed only in the nude pantyhose and bikini panties. “Very nice” were his words of encouragement, and I instantly felt my cock stiffening in response. Maybe this would work out after all.

When he said he wanted to see more, I returned to the bedroom and asked him to move to the nearby couch. I rolled the pantyhose down and slipped off the white bikini panty, then quickly re-dressed in what I had earlier told him was my favorite outfit: a black, lace camisole top and matching demi-slip (both Victoria’s Secret) and a stretchy, black nylon bikini panty (also VS). I went back into the outer room and climbed onto my personal stage. Mimicking girls I’d seen in strip clubs, I started giving him a show: I turned my back to him, lifted the demi-slip to show off my panty-clad ass, and slowly gyrated my hips. I let the slip down, turned, and gradually lifted it again to show off my growing bulge. I didn't protest as he reached out and cupped my balls with his hand and gently squeezed the shaft of my cock. There's a first time for everything.

In fairly rapid succession, I modeled the rest of my collection for him. First, it was a lacy white bikini panty from Frederick's of Hollywood, worn with the same black camisole and half-slip. I pulled the fabric into the crack of my ass, which both of us liked. Then, the beige lace thigh-high panty followed by a pink, satin g-string. Each time, I climbed onto my stage to give him a front- and back-view, then let him gently touch and stroke me from the outside of the panty. Next, I returned from my dressing room in another of my all-time favorites: a white, lace bra and matching thong panty, both from Victoria's Secret. He responded well, tweaking my nipples under the delicate lace bra fabric, toying with the thin bra straps, and commenting favorably on the panty through which he was now certainly better able to see my erect clean-shaven cock. I finished the show as I had planned: naked but for a transparent, white g-string. I climbed onto my stage, modeled it for him, and then as slowly as I could, slipped it down off my hips to show off my near-clean shaven, fully erect cock and balls. My fantasy was nearly, but not yet completely, fulfilled.

Now, it was his turn. As I slipped my panty on, he opened the fanny back that he had brought with him and pulled out a number of different dark-colored bikini panties which, in turn, he modeled for me. He cited each panty by name: Olga, Warner's, Vassarette. I sat on the couch, dressed only in my see-through g-string, taking the opportunities he offered to feel his cock through the fabric of his panties. It was a strange, out of body experience to be calmly sitting in my hotel room feeling up another man's genitals. Through the panty fabric his cock felt hard, but more like a rock feels hard than a feeling of turgid flesh. And, given that my prior experience touching cocks was limited to my own pretty narrow cock, my sense was that he, in a word, was “thicker.” But with his preference for tight-fitting colored, bikini panties, it was hard to get a better sense of what his cock was really like. And, because he changed into them with his back to me, I never did catch a full view of what his cock looked like.

He next asked whether I wanted to take the next step in my personal fantasy, namely to have him bring me to orgasm. I agreed, and we went off into the bedroom. As he rolled the covers back from the queen-sized bed, I asked him about which of my panties he wanted me dressed in. I was quick to obey in response to his request for the pink satin g-string. I slipped it back on, lay on the bed and, at his request, moved over to give him room. We were both, at this point, dressed only in our panties. I closed my eyes and leaned back as he told me that he was going to take off my panties. I arched my hips as he started to slide them down, feeling them snap across my firmly erect cock, past my knees, and to my ankles. Then, they were off altogether. His hands touched my thighs, then my balls, and finally grasped my eager cock. He then told me, as he proceeded to lubricate me from a tube of K-Y jelly, that I had a pretty cock. I could have cum then and there, pleased as I was with such a compliment, but I wanted to make the moment last. He stroked me fast, then he stroked me slow. He massaged my balls and he encircled my cock with his well-lubricated fingers. I arched my hips and pumped myself into his hand. I pushed myself against his panty-clad cock on a couple of occasions and he moaned in response. I wanted to cum, but at the same time I wanted to keep going as long as possible. But, in the end, I was soon spent and he was out of time. He left shortly thereafter and it was not until the next morning, my cock still sticky from the lubricant he had applied and my mind still thinking about the night before, that I came of my own accord and spewed sticky sperm over the bed sheets rather than my companion's panties.

A long-time fantasy fulfilled, my immediate reaction was to put the experience behind me. How likely would I be to ever again find someone so like-minded in such an ideal environment? And, I had to admit, I had much preferred being the modeler over the modelee. I enjoyed, for example, being admired and touched much more than doing the touching and admiring. But, later on, my perspective started to change. Perhaps the next experience could be made better. Upon reflection, I realized that the fantasy would be better if he did more role playing and issued commands. Turn and show me your ass. Spread your cheeks. Take your panties off. Maybe I would jack myself off while he watched; I would watch him do the same. And I would spend more time naked and in bed. Perhaps I would take him in hand and bring him to orgasm. Maybe I would raise my legs up in the air, grab my ankles and asked to be fucked with a butt plug. Slowly and gently. Maybe. I'm just a heterosexual with a panty fetish. What do I know of these things. Not much. But more than before.