Caroline’s Underwear

I met Martin and Caroline when I first started work. Both were three years older than me. They were engaged and planning to marry as soon as they could afford a house. Trouble was Martin was crap with money, he was always borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. I even took out a loan for him once to pay a debt. To be fair he **** it back on time. One of my fantasies was that he didn’t, and I got to fuck Caroline as payment.

Anyway, Martin moved companies and I soon followed him. We were both big football fans and watched the local team home and away. I was late learning to drive and did not pass my test until I was twenty-one, so, Martin did most of the driving.

This one Wednesday we were going to the football after work. Martin and Caroline finally brought a house thanks to his grandmother leaving him a legacy. I had the afternoon off so Martin, who was mainly out of the office on the road, picked me up about four with the plan to drop me at his house, while he went to pick Caroline up from work.

It was an on the spur of the moment thing, not planned. Martin let me in and left to collect Caroline. I surmised he would be forty-five to sixty minutes with the traffic.

I went exploring in their bedroom. Firstly, the wardrobe, flicking through Caroline’s side which was full of the usual skirts, dresses, etc. She was not a fashion dresser, more your homely girl clothes, and shoes. Nothing naughty or kinky in there.

The chest of drawers beckoned. Caroline had the top drawers. The first was fully of bras. Again, nothing fancy, mostly white plain Marks and Spencer, one black and one flesh coloured. I slipped off my t-shirt and tried one on. I felt sexy and my hardening dick appreciated it. The second drawer had to be knickers. It was. Two piles neatly folded. The right pile was all white. Every pair exactly the same, all cotton bikini fit, and yes you guessed, all from M&S. the second pile was exactly the same except most were lemon yellow, with a pair of pink ones.

Guess I was a little disappointed that there was nothing lacy, kinky or even black. Still, I didn’t stop me dropping my jeans, and trying on a pair of white ones. It felt great sliding them up my legs, and then tucking my raging cock in them. I posed in the wardrobe mirror. The third drawer had tights galore, mostly tan coloured, but two or three pairs of black. Nothing sheer, and no stockings.

A pair of black tights pulled on slowly as not to snag them I pulled a blue dress out and slipped into it. I was feeling so good but was conscious that I had limited time. So, I quickly grabbed my cock from the undies and wanked myself into a convent tissue left on the bedside table.

Now, I was suddenly aware that I had to put everything back as I’d found it and started to panic that I had stretched the tights, the underwear as well, though less so, and I scoured the crotch to see if there were any cum deposits. Thankfully, nothing that couldn’t be rubbed away.

I was sat reading the paper when the door opened. We said our hellos, had a quick cup of tea and off we left to watch the football. Can’t remember who we played, or if we won, but I do remember thinking about Caroline wearing underwear for the next few days and imagining it was the pair I’d wanked in.

I haven’t seen them for about ten years but last time I did I could not help but think about that Wednesday evening one April when I borrowed her dress and underwear.