Wearing Her Silky Slips and Panties

The lamp in Noelle’s apartment threw a low gold light over the living room, and the silk on her body drank it. She was twenty-eight, and the slinky rose-colored slip clung to every smooth curve—the soft weight of her breasts, the narrow of her waist, the swell of her hips—while the matching panties hugged her ass and the neat tuck of her bulge. Everett sat on the couch in a faded T-shirt and jeans, thirty-one, already thick in his pants from watching her move. They had the evening to themselves. No plans. Just the hush of her place and the way his eyes kept dropping to the hem.

She crossed to the coffee table with a bottle of red and bent at the waist to set it down. She did it slowly, on purpose. The silky fabric rode up the backs of her thighs until the lower curve of her ass was bare above the panties, rose silk stretched tight over the soft shape of her cock. She stayed bent, one knee locked, letting him look.

“Fuck,” Everett said, almost under his breath.

Noelle glanced over her shoulder. A strap had slipped down her arm. “You’ve been staring since I put this on.”

“I can’t stop.” His hands flexed on his thighs. “It looks like it feels incredible.”

She straightened and turned. The silk whispered over her nipples. Heat gathered under the panties where her bulge pressed the delicate fabric, and she wanted him in it—wanted the same cool slide against his skin, wanted to watch him get hard inside something of hers. She stepped between his knees and dragged the hem across his wrist so he could feel how thin it was, how it warmed where it touched.

“You want to know how it feels,” she said. “On you.”

His breath hitched. The air between them went electric, both of them aching for her lingerie against his body, the tension so sharp she could taste it.

Everett’s voice came out rough. “I’ve fantasized about it. Wearing your silky slips and panties. Getting hard in them while you watch.”

Noelle’s eyes lit. Desire answered desire, hot and mutual, and she didn’t waste a second on teasing past the point of it. She caught his wrist and pulled him up off the couch, through the short hall, into her bedroom where the lamp was already on and the bed was turned down. She shut the door with her heel.

“Strip,” she said, and then she was on him anyway, helping, impatient. She dragged his T-shirt over his head, shoved his jeans and briefs down his thighs, and he kicked them off. His cock stood up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. She looked at it and smiled, then crossed to the dresser and drew out a lavender silk slip, thin as breath, and a pair of her delicate lace-trimmed panties in the same pale color.

“Arms up.”

He obeyed. She lowered the slip over his head and let it fall. The silk poured down his chest, clung to his stomach, and ended high on his thighs. She smoothed it with both palms, slow, feeling his heat come through the fabric, feeling him shiver. Then she crouched, held the panties open, and he stepped in. She drew them up his legs inch by inch, the lace scraping lightly, until she settled them over his cock. The delicate front cradled him, stretched around his hardening length, the head of him nudging the waistband. She cupped him through the lace and squeezed.

“God,” he breathed. “Noelle.”

“Feel that?” She stroked him through the panties, then slid her other hand under the slip to pinch a nipple. “That’s mine on you. You’re going to stay in it while I fuck you.”

He nodded, already panting. She rose and pressed against him, rose silk against lavender, her tucked bulge grinding the lace that held him. They touched each other through the smooth fabric—her palm working his cock, his hands roaming the slip over her ass, both of them breathing hard, mouths open, the teasing climbing until it was unbearable. He was throbbing in her panties. She was aching in hers. Neither of them could stand another minute of almost.

“On the bed,” she said. “Bend over.”

Everett went, palms on the mattress, the lavender slip riding up his back, the lace-trimmed panties framing his ass. Noelle stepped in behind him and yanked her own panties aside. Her girl-cock sprang free, thick and slick at the tip, and she spit into her palm, stroked herself once, and pressed the head to his hole. He pushed back. She sank in deep and slow, one long glide, until her hips met the silk bunched at his waist and he groaned into the sheets.

“That’s it,” she murmured, and started to fuck him. Deep. Slow. Each thrust seated her to the root, then drew her almost out so he felt every inch on the way back in. The rose slip clung to her sweating skin. She reached under him with her free hand and found his erection through the lavender silk and the lace, stroking the length of him while she fucked his ass, the fabric sliding, dampening fast with the precum he couldn’t hold back. He leaked into her panties in thick pulses, soaking the delicate front, and she rubbed it in, jerking him through the wet silk in time with her hips.

“You look filthy in my things,” she said against his shoulder. “Hard in my panties while I fill you. Take it.”

He took it. He rocked back onto her cock and forward into her fist, whimpering, the slip sticking to his stomach, the lace plastered to his shaft. She kept the pace cruel and steady, deep and slow, until his thighs shook and a heavier spill wet the panties, cum-damp and clinging. She pulled out before either of them finished, breathing hard, and climbed onto the bed on her back, rose slip rucked at her waist, her cock standing wet and flushed.

“Up,” she said. “Ride me. Reverse. Don’t you dare take those off.”

Everett straddled her facing her feet, still wearing the cum-dampened panties and the bunched-up slip. He reached back, lined her up, and sank down. Her girl-cock pushed into him again, and he groaned, settling until he was full. The lavender silk pooled between them. He started to move, reverse-cowgirl, grinding down, the silky material trapped and sliding where their bodies met—slip against slip, lace dragging over her shaft on every rise. Noelle gripped his hips and fucked up into him, then wrapped a hand around his cock through the soaked panties and jerked him hard.

“Grind it,” she ordered. “Grind my silk on my cock while I milk you.”

He did. He rode her in short, filthy circles, the damp lace and the bunched slip mashed between his ass and her stomach, slick sounds filling the room. She stroked him faster through the fabric, thumb working the wet head where it strained the waistband, her other hand spreading his cheek so she could watch herself disappear into him. He was close. She was closer. The silk stuck to both of them, warm and ruined.

“Come in my panties,” she said. “Come while I’m buried in you.”

Everett broke. He slammed down and came in thick, shattering spurts that flooded the lace, soaked through onto her fist and the slip, his hole clenching around her in hard pulses. Noelle drove up and followed, her orgasm ripping through her, girl-cock throbbing as she pumped him full, both of them shaking, gasping, grinding the silky mess between them until the last spasm faded and he slumped forward, still stuffed with her, panties heavy with cum.

Noelle eased out, rolled him onto his back, and peeled the cum-soaked panties down his thighs, the lace strings of his load and hers sticking to his skin. She tossed them aside, crawled up, and kissed him deep and filthy, tongue in his mouth, tasting sweat, her hand still slick when she gripped his jaw.

“Tomorrow we shop,” she said against his lips. “More silky slips and panties. You’re wearing them for me every night so I can fuck you in them and make you come in every pair.”

She shoved two wet fingers into his mouth and smiled when he sucked them clean. “Sleep in the mess, baby. Tomorrow I buy you more to ruin.”