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Simon Goes Shopping for Knickers.
This is a Story by Simon Greene. Some names have been changed.
Edited by your ‘Knickers-Hostess’!
They were called Summer Camps and Easter Camps but there was not a tent in sight! Instead, the organisers took over a boarding school during the holidays to give older pupils, girls and boys, a great time, for which parents paid a reasonable price for the two-week breaks. It was run by a combined religious group, and along with all the sport and general fun there was an element of religious study, but nothing heavy. Most of the camp’s ‘Officers’, as they were called, were mature students, the presence of whom occasionally brought a touch of adventure to the events. For the mid 1950’s in Britain it was a bit outré. Effectively it was managed pandemonium, yet because of all the fun, and despite the religious overtones, we enjoyed ourselves enough to want to come back each year.
For the several years we had stayed at a nearby boys’ boarding school, but it had closed down. I heard that letting it out in the holidays had been an attempt to raise extra funds, but the place was falling apart and all rescues had finally failed. So this new venue was found. Chamberlains is a large school for older girls, and it is situated on the south coast of England. At the time, I think there were about 400 girls in term-time, about half of whom were boarders, so there was ample room for us all to have a whale of a time in one way or another.
The controlling influence was Mrs Manders, a lady who was formidable in every way, not least in the bust area, giving the effect of a galleon sweeping through the ocean, where she was both galleon and figurehead. I think that everybody was fond of her, and a reprimand from her for misbehaviour left you feeling that you’d let her down. Somehow you didn’t want to do that. However, she was a great disciplinarian, and she wasn’t averse to making any offender undress to his vest and underpants in front of her and everyone present, even the girls.
All boys wore white cotton vests and full-fitting, white cotton underpants. Most boys found any ‘enforced’ exposure of their underpants to be a horrendously embarrassing experience, but somehow the presence of this fine, sexy woman usually caused a boy to get an erection in his underpants, and there was nothing he could do about it. She would look pointedly at it for a long moment, and then a hint of a smile of triumph and satisfaction would cross her face. Then, while he was writhing and crimson-faced with shame and humiliation, she would lecture him on his offence, clearly aware that his erection was only stiffening with her powerful, dominant authority over him. The stares of the boys, and the excited giggles of the girls, only made matters worse for him. Then, with her stockinged legs planted well apart for stability and a strong arm around his waist, she bent him over and held him tightly against her thin, summer dress. She seemed to be oblivious to the fact that several inches of her elasticated knicker-legs were visible to those lucky enough to be watching, and the girls would vie for that view as resolutely as the boys!
Mrs Manders would reach for whatever suitable instrument she had prepared and give the devastated lad the prescribed number of whacks on his very vulnerable, underpants-covered bottom. After that came the inevitable, parting ‘lecture’, which allowed the excited audience ample time to study his underpants, which she made sure of prodding and patting a few times while she finished her moralising. It was her well-practiced routine, and every errant lad knew what to expect when she ordered him, “Take your shorts off for me, please, Simon”. Somehow the addition of the word ‘please’, and his name, had a strange, almost endearing effect on a boy, and it also ensured that his erection would be all the more stiff and unstoppable.
After she had finished, she allowed him to stand up and rub his bottom. However, she may or may not allow him to put on his shorts because shaming him was all part of her ‘psychology of punishment’. Seeing a boy undressed to just his white vest and white cotton underpants always seemed to affect her demeanour. Everyone noticed. It seemed to motivate and encourage her into action, so most boys were generally very well behaved, although just ‘pushing his luck’ did appear to thrill each and every boy who passed through her very capable hands. However, there were always three or four boys who seemed to attract her attention and each one soon ended up exposing his white cotton underpants for her special treatments! A very serious misdemeanour could get you sent home and banned from future camps, but it had seldom happened, and I sincerely hoped to avoid it happening to me.
The girls were generally better behaved, but as with the boys, there were always three or four girls who were unable to resist pushing their luck, too, and Mrs Manders treated them just the same as the boys. She was often heard repeating that those girls who behaved as badly as boys would be punished like boys. She believed that one warning should be sufficient. After that, an immediate punishment was given ‘on the spot’. That rule usually ensured good behaviour, but there were always those who thought that they knew better! Right there and then, whoever was present, the red-faced girl to be punished was ‘requested’ to ‘Remove your skirt and blouse, please, Rosie’! There was silence as the girl obeyed, especially when the girl unfastened her skirt and her knickers were fully exposed to the excited audience. Mrs Manders invariably tided the girl’s knickers even if they were almost perfect all over, and while she began her ‘behaviour lecture’, she always managed to find some knicker-leg elastic that needed twisting flat, and her vest always needed a bit more tucking into her knickers waist-elastic.
Apart from giving Mrs Manders some noticeable pleasure, this was intended to draw plenty of attention to the girl’s very exposed knickers in her laudable quest to embarrass the girl into bettering her behaviour. After a few days with Mrs Manders, everyone had learned that the power of knickers and underpants was uppermost in her mind, and woe betide all those girls and boys who thought that they could get away with bad behaviour for they would surely be humiliated, shamed and embarrassed with their knickers or underpants well and truly exposed for punishment. Although a girl would not show an obvious erection like a boy usually did, through her very thin, summer vest she would nevertheless show her very stiff nipples sticking out. And while she was bent over having her knickered bottom punished, her moist knicker-gusset was very visible to everyone, and that was acutely embarrassing to her. Thus it was generally only the same, incorrigible girls who kept returning for their irresistible treatment from the willing Mrs Manders, and they turned out to be the sexiest girls of all.
Our respect and affection for Mrs Manders was enhanced by the fact that we all knew exactly what sort of underwear she liked to wear. The brassiere and knickers that she was wearing each day caused the greatest interest as she wore quite short, thin dresses in the summer, and we could easily see their outlines through her dress. She often started the day wearing an underskirt, but on a hot day we soon learned to watch for her taking her underskirt down under her dress and handing it to a favourite ‘special helper’. Some of us had overheard her saying to a girl that an underskirt was too restrictive, but I had become particularly observant and I felt sure that she wanted us to see her knickers through her thin dress.
So for all of her strict ways she clearly enjoyed the interest that her underwear caused. Perhaps that was her way of getting her kicks, some of us thought, and much later on we had cause to confirm that her knickers, especially her knickers, caused her much pleasure. Meanwhile, I spent ‘far too much time’ trying to see her stocking-tops and suspenders through her dress as even a brief glimpse of them when the sun shone just right, gave me an erection that I loved to hold through the ‘torn’ hole in my pocket! Her stocking-tops were a particularly dark brown, and I could generally see them most of the time. When the light caught them just right I could also see her wide, white suspenders and her knicker-elastics. Rinsing out my wet cotton underpants was an on-going task indeed!
On the line behind the girls’ dormitory were usually hanging some of her brassieres and knickers, and her other underwear, too. Her brassieres were always white, but she wore all colours of knickers which clearly showed through her thin, summer dresses. She was also in the habit of sitting in a ‘relaxed’ manner, and by the end of the day the boys and girls alike had all enjoyed many views of at least her knicker-leg elastics, and usually much more. Occasionally she would casually or ‘absent-mindedly’ rub an itch on her inner thigh, or something, and if her legs happened to be apart, which they often were, the luckiest of us would see a the full spread of her gorgeous, silky knicker-gusset, and it was a sight that stayed with most of us for ever. Some of the sexier boys made regular forays into the woods behind the girls area. There they removed their shorts and enjoyed exposing their intimate, white underpants to each other. Then there was the inevitable wanking while staring at their idol’s big, full-fitting knickers on the clothesline. Occasionally one of those incorrigible girls would come along, too, and egg us on most wickedly. It was an exciting revelation to most of us that many girls loved knickers as much as boys did, but perhaps from a somewhat different standpoint.
I was an only child, but my interest in girls and what they wore, particularly under their skirts, had developed unusually early as a result of a particular, erotic experience, but that is another story.
Being a mixed-sex camp I now enjoyed the opportunities of being with the girls, but in addition to that, the thought of actually staying in a girls’ school and sleeping in beds usually occupied by girls was extremely exciting. I freely confess that the reconnoitring I did of the changing rooms on the day we arrived was in the hope of finding some intimate little keepsake left behind at the end of term. I was just too slow, but I was in time to catch a boy called Ben in the process of putting a pair of white cotton knickers under his jumper. When he realized that he’d been caught red-handed he was horrified. His face went scarlet, and he gabbled all sorts of silly excuses that made no sense at all. I let him go on, but then he gave up with a tearful, “Please don’t tell.”
“I won’t tell,” I said, “on two conditions”.
“What” he asked, his eyes full of pleading.
“First let me see those knickers”.
Very reluctantly, he pulled out the knickers and passed them to me. Carefully inspecting them I could see that they were soft, white cotton knickers with a double gusset and back panel, and they had proper, tunnelled knicker-elastic. Their maker’s name had become faded out by wearing and washing, but the sewn name-tape said ‘Rosemary Jenner’. They certainly weren’t new knickers but otherwise they were in relatively good condition, and I wondered why any girl would let go of such a lovely pair of knickers.
“Keep them if you like,” said Ben, trying to sound disinterested.
“Oh no, they are your knickers, you found them,” I said, handing them back to him. “Now go and put them on so that I can see what they look like on you.”
He looked stunned at the idea. “Don’t make me do that.”
But I was beginning to enjoy myself, and teased, “Don’t be a ninny, you know you want to.”
His guilty eyes confirmed my guess, and his voice trembled when he said, “But someone might come in”.
“Someone has come in,” I said. “I came in. Go into the shower over there and put these lovely knickers on, and I’ll keep watch.”
He dived into the shower. “Strip right off. Just wear the knickers,” I called after him. “Nothing else.”
I felt thrilled at the idea of seeing him in those lovely, white knickers, and I felt my cock tingling and stiffening so much that I had to rearrange it in my white cotton underpants. ‘White cotton pants, just like the girls’ white cotton knickers,’ I thought to myself.
After a few minutes Ben appeared, his face bright red, and wearing those lovely, white, schoolgirl knickers. They actually fitted him quite well, that is, excepting for a protruding bulge in the front of those exciting, white knickers, and the sight was increasing my own protruding bulge in my underpants.
Ben was fair with blue eyes and slightly long, blond, curly hair that gave him quite a girlish look. I walked right up to the shower to get a better view. As I got there we heard footsteps in the corridor, and they were coming nearer. For some reason Ben pulled me into the shower with him and shut and locked the door. The footsteps seemed to come into the changing room and stop. A man’s voice called out, “Is there anyone there?” I didn’t think that there was any chance Ben would call out, but still I held my finger to my lips as a warning. After a moment we heard the footsteps going away, and we stood together in that tiny space listening to the receding footfall. To my total surprise Ben suddenly gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for not giving me away”, he said.
I then surprised myself. Instead of thumping him for kissing me I reached down and gave his bulge a gentle, fondling squeeze and said, “That’s OK. Just make sure that the next pair of knickers that you find are mine”. With my other hand I fondled the now warm knickers for a minute, and felt for their waist and leg elastics which made Ben writhe with pleasure. When I touched his bulge again it was very hard and I instinctively wanted to release it to point comfortably upwards, but instead I had one more look at the lovely knickers and with a sexy grin I left. After that, Ben and I became firm friends and allies.
It was the very next day that I found the door marked School Shop. It was of course locked. I usually carried two keys, one for our house and one for Grandma’s, both of which I was supposed to have left at home for safety, but I hadn’t. The corridor was empty so I tried one of the keys. Of course it didn’t work. I then tried Grandma’s key. To my utter astonishment the key turned and the door opened. The room was in total darkness and I could see little. It was an internal room so it had no windows. Still nobody around. I found the light switch but just as I was about to flick it on I heard someone coming, and I quietly shut the door again. If this was like the school shop in my school then it had a range of school clothing. Here it would be girls’ clothing, and school knickers! I could even detect the unmistakable aroma of females’ clothing, and I knew that I had to get into that room one night. But there were problems to overcome, I knew that.
To get from the dormitory to the shop one had to go down the main staircase, which creaked loudly even during the day. In the quiet of the night it would have sounded like a thunderstorm. And even to get to the staircase one had to pass Mrs Manders’s bedroom door, and she was renowned as a light sleeper. Organisers of midnight feasts were quick to discover that! The only excuse for going past her door was to use the bathrooms. I decided that I would make a pretence of going to the toilet and I would get Ben to help with the deception. As luck would have it he was in my dorm. Ben had wanted to come on the raid with me but I persuaded him that it would be safest if I went alone.
Our Officer, the one in charge of our dormitory, was the opposite of Mrs Manders, as I don’t think a bomb would have woken him up. So the plan was that Ben and I would creep out of the dorm. Then, keeping exactly in step and not trying to be quiet, we would walk to the toilet. We would then flush it and Ben would walk back alone to satisfy Mrs Manders’s hearing. Once I were sure that she was not suspicious I would go on down to the shop.
It worked well and I got to the shop undetected. I tried the key but to my disappointment the lock wouldn’t turn. Thinking it was the wrong key I tried the other. Still the door remained locked. I changed back to first key and kept trying, but to no avail. Deciding to admit defeat I sadly started to try to withdraw the key, and that was when I felt it move. I pressed more and the door opened. Obviously it was not the real key, and it only lined up when it wasn’t properly in. With my heart thumping with fear and excitement, I slipped quickly into the shop and shut the door. I remembered to lay my dressing gown across the bottom of the door to avoid any light escaping into the corridor, and only then did I switch on the light.
I stared in utter amazement. I had found my Aladdin’s Cave! There were rails of green gingham summer dresses, each with a white collar and cuffs. There were rails with skirts and blazers for the older girls, and gymslips in all sizes. Along the walls were glass-fronted drawers. Each drawer was neatly labelled with the contents, including size, style and colour etc. I quickly found the drawers with the green, school knickers in them, and some drawers that contained plain white knickers, too. It was almost too wonderful to take in, but my stiffening cock soon reminded me that it was all true! I didn’t waste another second and quickly took down my underpants, carefully draping them where I could not possibly forget them! Then, with my aroused cock standing out in anticipation, I tried on several pairs of knickers until I found the size that fitted me best. I stood for a while and gazed at myself in the mirror. I felt as though I was on fire. Next I found a vest and put that on. I tucked it into the knickers and returned to the mirror. I enjoyed the improvement, but wanted more. I tried on several of the gingham dresses until I found one that seemed comfortable. As I looked at myself again in the mirror, I had never been so happy. I felt as though putting on girl’s clothes was like putting on a girl, becoming a girl, and it was bliss. I tried every combination that I could find; blouses, skirts and blazers, gymslips, bathing costumes, even suspender belts and stockings.
I had felt physically excited by my experiences with Ben and the white knickers in the changing room, but the level of excitement that I felt now was beyond anything that I had ever experienced before in my life. This level of arousal was something quite new to me, and I wasn’t sure what was happening. The feelings were so strange and thrilling that I almost wondered if in some magical way I was actually turning into a girl. Standing in front of the mirror, I lifted the hem of the gymslip that I was wearing. I had never seen my cock looking quite so big. It spoilt the contour of the knickers, but I didn’t care as I loved it all.
From a very early age I had learnt how to get nice feelings ‘down there’, bouncing around in bed, pressing hard on it, but the feeling that I had now was much greater than I ever enjoyed. I pulled down the front of the knickers so that I could see more clearly what was going on. I took hold of my rigid cock, and the very act of holding it with the girls’ knickers on caused my very intense feelings to overflow. Suddenly my whole body began to shake and I experienced a massive climax accompanied by an enormous spurt of fluid from the end of my cock. Then another spurt, and another, and I felt incredibly weak all over. I leaned against the counter, staring down at the wet patch on the floor. It was much more cum than I’d ever spurted before and it was almost frightening. This was the age of innocence, and what was happening was outside my experience, but I felt that anything that good had to be okay. I also knew that I wanted to share my experience with Ben and to see if wearing girls’ knickers would be the same for him.
After a while I calmed down and found a bit of cloth in the waste bin, and I wiped up the amazing spillage. I carefully began to tidy up, trying to put things away just as I found them. I began to look around again. In one corner was a desk with a long book-shelf above it. On the book-shelf was a number of box-type files, with some of them marked ‘catalogues’. One by one I took those files down and opened them up. Some contained general, department-store catalogues. Others were catalogues specialising in school uniform. Most were illustrated. My eyes fell on the pages showing girls in school uniform, and especially those showing girls wearing school underwear, and I quickly found that I was becoming aroused again. In fact my cock was now almost ‘painfully’ stiff and it was poking into the wonderfully soft knickers in a most erotic manner! I wanted to continue stroking it, but after a few moments of intense pleasuring I sensibly decided it was time to get back to the dorm, but not without a little bit of loot.
I realized that I could get several pairs of knickers on under my white cotton underpants, and started to select some clear favourites. I also needed to take back a present for Ben. I managed to put on seven pairs of knickers. There seemed to be more than one make so I chose the softest, four in green, three in white. Although Ben was about six months older than me, he was a little smaller so I knew I had to select a size for him that was smaller than mine. I selected a pair of knickers still in its cellophane wrapper and tucked them into my knickers, and then carefully pulled on my underpants. Luckily my Y-front underpants were of the cuffed-leg style, and ideal for wearing over the girls’ knickers, and although they were well-stretched, they were not beyond their capacity. I put away the box files and took a last look around to make sure that everything was tidy. I switched off the light, put my dressing gown on over my underpants, and let myself out into the corridor.
Soon I was safely upstairs again, and walking as quietly as I could along the corridor past Mrs Manders’s room. I was very elated by my experience and priding myself on how successful I had been when I suddenly heard a voice call out behind me!
“Simon, where are you going?” It was Mrs Manders’s strong, authoritative voice. My mind was racing but I could think of absolutely nothing and just kept walking. She called my name again, and again, and I pretended that I hadn’t heard, and just kept walking on. She caught up with me and I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I immediately jumped as if taken by surprise and gave a little shriek. I muttered some confused gibberish, and then said, “Where am I? Where am I?”
“Don’t worry,” said Manders. “I think you have been sleepwalking. I’ll see you back to your dormitory.” She put her arm around me and it was then that I realised she was actually undressed to her underwear. It was all white underwear except for her dark-brown stockings. I stared down at her big, full-fitting, white knickers and in the bright light I clearly saw her many, wide, white suspenders fastened to her brown stocking-tops. As I stared at them I trembled and went a bit dizzy for a moment, and she held me even tighter. Now I could feel her soft, warm body through my thin dressing gown and I couldn’t help staring up at her concerned-looking face. She seemed to be relieved to see me looking normal, and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss me. But instead she just held me even closer to her underwear, and when she began to move slowly forward I had to strain to look down at her knickers. As we moved slowly towards the dormitory, I kept saying how sorry I was and I felt her body, vibrant with wonderful, female care and power while she insisted that it wasn’t my fault and I’m not to worry.
To avoid waking up the other boys she didn’t switch on the dormitory light. Instead, she stood against the open door so I could find my way to my bed by the low light from the landing. She slowly and cautiously released me and I whispered a ‘thank you’ up to her face. Suddenly I felt compelled to look down at her knickers. I just had to look at her knickers even if she saw me looking. Nothing on earth would stop me from having a proper look at her knickers. Somehow I dared to have a good, long look at them even though I felt her watching me just as closely. Now I could really see that she was wearing a pair of white knickers which were just like school knickers. They had quite short legs with knicker-elastics just like school-knickers. Her leg-elastics were gripping her smooth, bare thighs just above her stocking-tops and I stared at them in awe, almost mesmerised by what seemed like several white suspenders gripping her stocking-tops. For a few split-seconds I forgot where I was, only half remembering that I was also wearing knickers just like her knickers, and I tingled and trembled all over with emotion until her voice made me jump.
“That’s enough now, Simon dear. I’m sure you’ve seen quite enough of my knickers for today, so make your way to your bed and be good and go straight to sleep.”
I was absolutely shocked and stunned, and so thrilled at her mention of her knickers that I almost fell over as I looked up at her face in awe.
She reached out and supported me at arm’s length, and from there I saw a strange, almost ‘knickery’ look in her half-smile when she whispered directly into my face, “That’s right, dear, no more knickers for you, tonight”. Then partly to herself she said, “Ah, maybe you were sleepwalking to my bedroom to see my knickers? Yes, I’m sure my knickers are the attraction. You all want to see my knickers, don’t you?” and with her free hand she stroked slowly down from her longline brassiere, over her knickers waist-elastic, slowly down over her white knickers to her stocking-tops. There, she lingered for a few seconds while pondering her idea, her fingers toying each of her knicker-elastics in turn. She saw that I was watching her hand, but her thoughts proved to be more important for a moment than sending me to bed, (as was revealed the following year).
Very slowly her hand began to move again. As if reluctant to leave her knicker-legs her fingers thoughtfully stroked her knickers up over her tummy and stopped with her finger and thumb toying with her knickers waist-elastic.
“Yes,” I heard her murmur, but I didn’t look up as I felt an invisible barrier had vanished from between us.
“Sleepwalking for my knickers. You must really love my knickers, dear.” It was a revelation to herself as much as telling me, but as I really loved her knickers beyond what she might think, I couldn’t stop myself from saying softly, “Oh yes, Miss, I do love your knickers. We all love your knickers but I love your knickers more than anybody,” I said proudly, and I was so sincere that I hardly blushed when I glanced into her face. I immediately looked down at her knickers again, and as if in response to my revelation she began to stroke her knickers in a way that surely showed affection for both me and her knickers.
“Yes dear, I now know that you love my knickers more than the others, but you must try to keep it under control, do you understand?”
“But I want to love your knickers, Miss. I don’t want to stop loving your knickers, especially these knickers,” and I only just managed to stop myself from becoming tearful as I looked wistfully at her knickers. If only I could touch them and kiss them, which is what I nearly did, but I was just wise enough to keep control. She could easily discover all the knickers inside my underpants and that would spoil everything.
As my love of girls knickers had developed I had become quite devious, and luckily I managed to hold myself together. Luckily too, that she decided that enough is enough, and giving her knickers one more affectionate stroking, surely for my benefit, she said, “There’s nothing wrong in loving girls’ and women’s knickers, dear, so you just come to me if it bothers you. Now off to bed with you, and be good”. She gave me a little push and I was forced to look where I was going towards my bed. I was safely there when I turned and was able to have another long look at her elegant figure in her beautiful white knickers, and I trembled so excitedly that I almost fell onto my bed. Satisfied that I had found my bed, she shut the door and I heard her return to her room.
Faint with emotional excitement and arousal, and trembling at my very near escape, I took off my dressing gown and climbed into bed. For a few minutes I lay there, emotionally exhausted by my incredible and wonderful experiences, until, under cover of the bedclothes I pulled off my underpants and one by one pulled down all of the knickers. Keeping the pair of knickers I’d chosen for Ben in bed with me, I very carefully pushed all the other knickers into my pillowcase. Every boy had to bring his own bed linen and was responsible for making his own bed, so once hidden in my pillow I felt that they were fairly safe. Then with my cock still rigid with arousal, I pulled up my underpants. It was only then that I was suddenly aware of Ben standing beside my bed.
“Did you get caught, Simon?” whispered Ben. “No, it’s okay,” I said. “It’s all so wonderful but I’ll tell you about it in the morning. Oh! And by the way Ben, these knickers are yours,” and I passed him the lovely, soft knickers that I’d chosen for him. “Wow, knickers, gosh, wow, thanks. See you in the morning.”
As I prepared to go to sleep the one thing I knew for sure was that I loved Mrs Manders and her knickers more than ever, and at that my cock erupted into yet another gushing cum so dramatic that I had a job to stifle my sounds! Then, with a clear vision filling my head of Mrs Manders smiling at me whilst she was standing proudly stroking her beautiful, intimate, white knickers, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
I told Ben a little about my amazing encounter with Mrs Manders, but I kept back the preciously intimate and loving parts. He wouldn’t have believed most of it anyway. Besides, I wanted to share the experience of the school shop with him, and as soon as possible, too.
After lunch each day there was always an hour when we were free to do just what we liked. So it was that after lunch the next day, I said to Ben, “Come with me, I’ve got a surprise for you.” By now, day three, I realised that the passage outside the school shop was virtually unused by the campers. It took me only a few seconds to wiggle the lock and get the door open and hustle Ben in. I took off my pullover and laid it across the bottom of the door, then turned on the light and watched the expression on Ben’s face. It was a picture. I quickly showed him where everything was, and undressed to my underpants, indicating for him to do the same. Like mine was. His cock was stiff in his underpants, and we came together, underpants against underpants.
“Ooooh this is so exciting”, we agreed as one, but then we agreed that we must hurry and put on some of the girls’ knickers. As we took off our underpants we watched each other’s stiff cock bobbing up and about, as they do, and I reminded Ben to put his underpants with mine so we couldn’t leave them behind if we were wearing girls’ knickers. I started to put on a pair of knickers first, as I thought it would make Ben a lot less shy to join me. Soon we were both wearing school knickers, and it didn’t take us long to be both dressed as schoolgirls. We stood side by side in front of the mirror. Ben, with his fair curls, made a far more convincing schoolgirl than I did. Then, like last night, I lifted up the hem of my dress to reveal the green knickers underneath.
“Are you feeling good down there in your knickers?” I asked.
“I sure am,” said Ben and lifted the front of his dress too, revealing his knickers. “It’s so hard,” he said. “Look,” and he pulled down the front of his knickers to show me. For all his girly look, Ben’s cock was bigger than mine, but then, he was also a little older than me. I pulled down the front of my knickers too, and much to my surprise, he said, “May I hold your cock?”
I suddenly realised that something inside me had been longing to hold Ben’s cock from the first moment I had seen his arousal in the changing rooms that first day.
“Yes, if I can hold yours, too,” I said, blushing hot and red. Soon we were facing each other, holding each other’s stiff cock, and gently squeezing and feeling it.
“I’ve never held another bloke’s prick before,” I said. The word prick now sounded more exciting than when I usually said it to myself.
“Neither have I,” said Ben. “But it’s good, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes, it’s so good,” I enthused, and I could tell from the glazed expression in his eyes that he felt just the same way that I did. He put his other hand down and I let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure as he cupped my balls through the softness of ‘my’ cotton knickers. He gently squeezed them and fondled them with his hand, just as I usually did through my soft, white, cotton underpants. But somebody else doing it to my balls was so different, and incredibly exciting, and we both looked down and watched as I did the same with his balls, also through ‘his’ knickers. Soon we were exploring and stroking each others stiff pricks and balls while looking at our knickers, too, and it was wonderful. We moved closer and suddenly our pricks were touching, pressed together side by side, and I’d never imagined that anything could be so exciting. We stayed like that for a while, fondling each other’s pricks and balls and then I shall never forget what happened next. I had been gently running my hand up and down Ben’s prick when suddenly he went up on his toes and started bouncing vigorously, groaning and gasping, and the next thing I knew was his whole body stiffened and, just like me last night, white stuff shot out from the head of his prick. It hit my thigh and began to trickle all down my leg. Ben had moved still closer to me so that our pricks were thrusting together, and at that moment I realised just how exciting being touched by somebody else could actually be. He seemed to recover quickly, and in a few moments we took each other’s balls out of our knickers and Ben showed me how to tuck the knicker-elastic behind our balls. Now we could clearly see our balls, too, and watched them jiggling with our wanking efforts. Ben seemed to know what he was doing to me, for with his prick still stiff and touching mine, I too, soon gasped and moaned and suddenly shot my jet of cum. Ben had been holding my prick pointing slightly upwards, so instead of it landing on the floor or on his legs, it actually landed right on top of his prick, which I had let go of in order to touch his knickers and balls. Rather than wiping it off he spread it all over his prick, and used it a bit like a lubricant as he worked his hand, backwards and forwards, as he had just done to mine. Now carried away by the moment I scooped what I could of his cum off my leg and out of my knicker gusset and used it on my prick just like he had done. We stared down and watched as we pressed our now very hot, juicy pricks together, prick to prick, and then played with each others pricks and balls for a while longer.
Suddenly his body stiffened again, and this time he moved even closer and shot another, smaller load so it landed in the gusset of my partly-lowered knickers. My prick was a little smaller but just as stiff, and it was only seconds later that I was thrusting it along his juicy prick as I came all over it for one more time. We stood there gasping for air for a few moments. My legs were shaking but I gradually recovered as we watched our pricks shrink smaller, but we agreed that they felt very hot and aching as we pulled up our wet, sticky knickers and then held each other in a tight embrace. Once again Ben kissed me and I didn’t mind.
The sight of Ben, stiff with pleasure, bouncing up and down on his toes was something I shall never forget for as long as I live. That wonderful room was to become our hidey-hole of sexy delights and wanking adventures for the rest of our stay at Chamberlains.
After a while some of the girls’ clothes that we had used had become spoiled by our activities. I had already taken several pairs of knickers which had been hidden in my pillow. I also had the sense to realise that if we left things as they were our activities were likely to raise suspicion, soiled dresses, and soiled knickers, not to mention the missing knickers. It could become a very serious matter with the schools. I suggested that if we left a note, and money to cover these items, it might look as though they were purchases made at the last minute at the end of term. Ben pointed out that the two dresses alone were 42s 6d each. I told him that I had some money, and we made a list of exactly what items we needed to take away were worth. The knickers were priced at 3s 11d and the vests at 2s 11d. We totalled up, and everything, including a six extra pairs of knickers and things for Ben, came to £8 13s 4d. Before coming away, my Grandmother had given me five pounds, a lot of money in those days. My Dad gave me two pounds, and Mum, not realising, also gave me two pounds. I had about three pounds from my own savings, so for a lad those days I was loaded. I asked Ben what he could afford. He said he had three pounds, but that he ought to keep a bit for emergencies, so he gave £1 13s 4d, and I made up the rest. Using brown paper and string, we packed our girls’ goodies and hid them safely away.
On the last Thursday afternoon we were allowed to go down to the town to do some shopping; to perhaps buy presents for those at home, and Ben and I used this diversion as an excuse to smuggle our packages into the dormitory. Then we went behind the girls area and to our joy, there on the clotheslines was a whole row of adult women’s intimate underwear. It clearly belonged to our much-loved Mrs Manders because we recognised a lot of her underwear there on the clotheslines, and especially her gorgeous knickers! Perhaps because ‘Chamberlains School for Older Girls’ had modern washing facilities, she had been washing all her knickers and other intimate under-things before returning home. On the other lines we could see a lot of other knickers, but most of them were a bit smaller and were obviously the girls’ knickers. There were various styles of knickers, but they were further away than from where Mrs Manders had hung her lovely, big knickers, which were now just a few feet away.
Although she had once been a head-mistress, she was not an official school-teacher, so apparently she did not feel the need to wear the regulation colours of knickers of the girls’ schools attending the summer camp. Boys’ were instructed to wear proper-fitting, pure-white underpants. They could be the traditional, ‘slit-front’ underpants, or Y-front underpants as long as they were not briefs. Briefs were considered to be unhealthy for boys’ cocks, just as briefs were proved to be unhealthy for growing girls’ fannies. School knickers all had elasticated knicker-legs of two, clearly-stipulated leg-lengths. As it was summer-time the girls were allowed to wear their shorter-leg knickers, and we certainly agreed with that as the girls’ stocking-tops and suspenders could then easily be seen. For games and other active events the girls simply removed their skirts and blouses, and their stockings and suspender belts, and ran about in just their vest and knickers. The girls blushed a lot and tried to hide behind each other when we were nearby, but on those ‘undressed’ occasions we were generally kept apart.
However, the boys were not completely safe from embarrassment because on very hot days we had to remove our vests and shorts and line up in just our underpants for each team captain to pick his team for some less energetic games such as hide and seek. Ben picked me for his team and we managed to get away on our own whenever we could! But that’s a story for another time.
Mrs Manders kept her skirt on, but on hot days she was often seen to remove her vest and we often saw one of her lovely, longline brassieres which she looked heavenly in, even at a distance. And now we were now gazing in awe and adoration at her beautiful, white, longline brassieres on the clothes-line. Grinning excitedly, we had found a nice, safe hiding place from where we could easily see both of ‘her’ clotheslines. One of them was full of her knickers and we had wonderful stiff erections just looking at them. There were several pairs of directoire knickers, which swayed erotically in the warm breeze, showing us teasing views of their big, wide, kite knicker-gussets that we so often glimpsed up her dress. Several of these knickers were different, pastel colours, and we had often wondered if she chose specific coloured knickers for any reason. However, some of her knickers looked distinctly like ‘adult school knickers’, with two different leg-lengths, so maybe she enjoyed wearing school knickers. We had heard from some of the girls that she always undressed to her underwear in the evenings before she went to the girls’ dormitory for their final check, and ‘lights out’. Just as she had been undressed to her knickers when she caught me returning with all the school knickers under my underpants.
As mentioned, later events proved much more than she had shared to me, and the fact that I was obsessed with her knickers, was never in question again. Fact is so often stranger than fiction, and there is another story to come eventually!
Talking about the colours of Mrs Manders’s knickers, Ben then excitedly explained to me how his favourite aunty always wore knickers of a different colour each day. For instance, for Monday washdays she always wore blue knickers. She also wore a short pinafore dress which showed an inch or two of her knicker-legs as she walked about doing her chores, and whenever she stretched at all he easily saw her blue knicker-leg elastics gripping her stockinged thighs. Sometimes they slid right up to her stocking-tops, and he’d learned to watch for a while as she always soon reached up her long legs and pulled her knicker-elastics down. She arranged them on her stockings thighs, and the snap of her knicker-leg elastics had thrilled him ever since.
Ben went on to say that she always chose white knickers for church on Sunday mornings, and then by the Sunday afternoon she had again changed her knickers. She always took him with her in her Morris eight car when she visited an old friend a few miles away, and she was always wearing a pair of lemon-coloured knickers. He was keen to go with her as he always enjoyed some full, wide-open views of her knickers whenever he politely held the door for her to get in and out of the car. He also noticed that her friend always wore a range of different coloured knickers during those visits, and while he pretended to read a book or work on his Air-fix models, they chatted as if he wasn’t there.
He then explained how he had found out all about his Aunty’s fondness for choosing her knickers each day. It happened during one of those visits when he overheard the friend ask his Aunty why she always wore lemon-coloured knickers.
“Oh, you always ask me about my knickers, and I always tell you the same thing,” chided his Aunty to her friend, smiling rather sexily, he thought. Perhaps they assumed that he wasn’t interested in ladies knickers, or were they just enjoying talking about their knickers? But that is when he learned that his Aunty enjoyed the weekly repetition of wearing certain knicker-colours, a different colour for each day of the week. It appeared that she loved the quiet, evening routine of organising the various, pastel colours of knickers, and then carefully choosing, ironing, and laying out the two similar pairs of knickers that she was to wear the next day. It seemed that she enjoyed knowing that she always had a spare pair of knickers of the right colour, ‘just in case she needed them,’ she’d said, glancing around at him. Ben was thrilled and bemused to learn that her knickers also helped to remind her what day it was. Then he saw her smile again when she told her friend that it was funny that seeing her pink knickers in the mirror often reminded her that it was Friday already and to expect nephew Ben to arrive. At that, she had glanced in his direction again, and for a long, thoughtful moment their eyes had met in some sort of empathy. It was a brief moment of mutual understanding that immediately passed, but couldn’t be reversed. It had been the moment that she had finally accepted that her nephew was indeed very interested in her knickers. Very interested indeed!
In a little while she would discover that he had loved her knickers for a long time. She also learned that when he arrived on Fridays for the weekends he had long ago noticed that she was always wearing bright pink knickers, but when she took him out to the shops on Saturdays he had seen many views of her beautiful, peach-coloured knickers. Their Saturday evening visits to the cinema always thrilled Ben. Not so much for the films, but for his anticipation of what always took place at bedtime.
He always waited in his bed caressing his very stiff cock which was sticking out of the front of his soft, white cotton underpants. It was generally an hour or so later that she came upstairs and began to undress for bed. As he slept in her spare bed that was on one side of her bedroom he was able to peep from under the bedclothes and watch her walk about the room with her gorgeous, peach knickers fully exposed to his lustful eyes. When she moved between the two beds her knickers were often within a few inches of his trembling eyes and he had frequently been able to study them in great, intimate detail. Inevitably she had caught him staring at her knickers and had merely smiled and told him he should be sleeping. Her knickers haunted him all the time, and he could hardly wait for the week to pass until the next week.
On the Friday night he watched her undress to her pink knickers and was on the danger point of almost cumming too soon. She had obviously anticipated that he would still be awake and would be watching her walking about in her underwear, and especially her pink knickers. She had guessed what he would be doing and decided to get it all out in the open, literally. When she was ready she surprised him by pulling back the bedclothes, and exposed exactly what he was doing. She saw his stiff cock sticking out of his underpants with his hand gripping it tightly, but she wasn’t angry. Instead, she had sat down on the bed with her knickers clearly on full display to him, and while he held his cock she had gradually extracted so many confessions from him that his life had been changed for ever.
Then, almost as if nothing had happened, she pulled his bedclothes over him and kissed him affectionately on his cheek. “Now we know there’s nothing to worry about any more, don’t we dear?”
In a choked, emotional voice he had gasped, “Yes, Aunty,” and only then had she resumed her preparations for bed, noticeably making no attempt to hide her knickers from him until she climbed into bed, wearing those same, pink knickers. Somehow he had managed to be quiet when his aching cock let go and squirted massively into his underpants.
The next thing he knew it was morning, and his Aunty was in the bathroom. Soon, many other events took place that form many more stories to come.
Safe near the edge of the rhododendron bushes, I listened to Ben’s story with great excitement. Soon we undressed and looked admiringly at our ‘bulging’, pure-white underpants shining in the sun. They looked really exciting while we gently fondled our cocks in the warm sunshine, and then we turned our attention to those lovely knickers on the line. We stepped forward and hugged, and rubbed our underpants together, underpants to underpants, until our pricks were fully erect in the soft white cotton. They felt just as if they were being rubbed by our girls’, soft, cotton knickers as we had done earlier. We took it in turn to describe each pair of Mrs Manders’s knickers on the line, until we were trembling with excitement and desire. Ben was first to succumb to our delicious temptations and I watched him manipulating his superb, stiff prick out through the frontal ‘entrance’ of his soft, cotton underpants. I gasped as its shiny head emerged, moist and desirable, and I stared while he expertly drew it out to its full length and showed it proudly to me. I followed suit, and managed to ease my stiff, aching prick out of my underpants and looked down at it with new-found pleasure. I was sure that it had grown larger and stiffer since Ben had played with it so much recently. We moved closer again, and held each others pricks for a while. Then we pulled them together and held them, prick to prick, as we had become so accustomed to doing in the secrecy of the girls’ school shop. We held them against each other’s soft white underpants and gasped at the wonderful intimate feelings pulsating through our trembling bodies, and our pricks. Again and again we looked at Mrs Manders’s wonderful knickers swaying sexily in the warm breeze, repeating the favourite words ‘knickers’ and so on until we were feeling wonderfully hot and lustful in the sunshine. Then the inevitable happened and we stood pointing our pricks at her wonderful knickers as we squirted our wonderful, dramatic cums all over the grass. On and on they squirted until we lay down, panting, exhausted and sated.
After a while we recovered and wiped our pricks. We put them away in our nice, white underpants and lay back, ruminating about our exciting times together. It was a very suitable ending to the holiday. Before departing, Ben and I exchanged addresses and phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. We hoped to meet again at the next camp. Meanwhile he would repay me by post for paying for most of his goodies. His parting words were, ‘watch the post!’
True to his word, about ten days later a large package arrived. It was addressed to me. I was lucky, as questions might have been asked had my parents got to the parcel first, but I happened to meet the postman in our front garden and was able to take the parcel, creep into the house, and get it into the bedroom before it was seen. There wasn’t the chance to open it right away, but when the opportunity arose I got the parcel out and examined it. It was from a London department store, and when I opened it I was thrilled to see that it was full of genuine, girls’ underwear. There was also a girls’ schoolwear catalogue with pages and pages of drawings and photos of school knickers and other items of daywear, nightwear, etc. I’m sure it must have cost him a lot more than I spent on him, so I rang to thank him.
We did get to go to camp together, but it was a full year later. However, at the Easter Camp I went on my own as I was desperate to see Mrs Manders again! Mrs Manders was pleased to see me and I was thrilled to get a special hug from her.
But that is yet another story to come
Ben was there again at the Summer Camp. The key still fitted the door to the girls’ school shop, and we spent many a happy hour together in there, sharing new and exciting knickers and sex experiences.
At the Easter Camp I had become Mrs Manders’s ‘special helper’ and the future stories will show that I saw more of her and her beautiful knickers than I could ever have dreamed.