Babes

Just a quick thank you for the comments on Part 1;

Dunkirk – Hang in there. If you’ve got the patience…

PaulEllie – Yes, 76! Thanks for correcting me. Everyone remembers, except me… haha.

Anyhow, back to the tale…

***

What the hell had just happened?

I had gone from, carefree innocent sunbather, to sexually obsessed, hormone fuelled teenager in a matter of minutes, after being flashed my sisters lace covered pussy, up close, albeit for no more than a couple of seconds.

I sat there, on my own, in the sunshine, attempting to process the multitude of feelings flying around inside me. It was like dozens of electric sparks exploding in my head as my brain was making all these new connections. OK, OK, what to concentrate on first?

Clearly, seeing up her dress and in between her legs, even if it had only been for a couple of seconds, seemed to have ignited a previously non-existent sexual yearning in me. Also,

the fact that Carolyn was no longer repulsed by my cock, really intrigued me. In fact, she actually seemed to have taken an interest in it.

As I sat there trying to process all these new feelings, I gradually started to finally understand some of the “chat” my (obviously more mature, now I look back at it) friends would laugh and joke about. I always felt somewhat at a loss when these discussions would crop up from time to time, when there was a group of us together. The one’s with older siblings seemed especially to ‘be in the know’ about sex stuff. They talked about ‘wanking’ and would make that universal gesture in mid-air with their hand.

But, not ever having had any sort of birds and bees conversation with my father (or anyone else for that matter), I didn’t really get it, but would laugh and join in non the less.

Thinking there must be something to this though, I had tried a couple of times to masturbate. However, it had been very clumsy, and, without experiencing any great sensory feedback, I had given up, still bewildered as to what all the fuss was about.

Now, amongst all the ‘fireworks’ going off, was one that whispered in my ear. “We have to give that masturbation thing another try.”

Resisting the urge to start there and then in the back garden, decided I needed go to the privacy of my bedroom and start experimenting.

Conscious of the fact that I still had an erection filling my speedo’s, I stood up and, casually holding a towel in front of my crotch, made my way inside.

I managed to avoid bumping into anyone as I scrambled up the stairs, still using the towel to hide my hard-on.

Once in my room, I shut the door behind me. My bedroom was at the back of the house and caught most of the sunshine during the day, and as such, on days like this, got unbearably hot. I dropped the towel on the floor and looked down at myself.

My cock had not started to deflate in the slightest. I took a moment to look at it, as I’d not really been able to do this in any great detail since it sprang to life a while ago at the sight of my sister’s yellow lace underwear. I felt I needed to study what seemed to be this new part of my anatomy. This hither to instrument for peeing through, that occasionally, and inconveniently became temporarily uncontrollable, seemed to have well and truly ‘come to life.’ I looked down at it, still confined inside my speedo’s. My brain was now able to fully absorb the feelings and sensations emanating from this new organ. I felt (and saw) it, throbbing, rhythmically, and I was aware of a tingling sensation in the head. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pushed the speedo’s down my thighs. The material dragged my cockhead with it, until the point where it sprang free. It bounced up and down a few times and eventually settled down, pointing straight out in front of me.

I’d like to say, I slowly reached down and began to slowly, gently stroke it. But, what the hell did I know about properly pleasuring myself? So, what I actually did was, quickly grab it, and, holding it far too tightly in a sort of death grip, furiously stroke backwards and forwards way too quickly. So began my learning curve for masturbation.

Within a couple of minutes, I was sweating. As I stood in the middle of my room, clumsily working my hand back and forth on my shaft, my mind drifted back to earlier, and the image of the thin strip of lace I had seen in between Carolyn’s legs.

I let my mind wander, and, felt a desire inside me that wanted to and reach under that dress and touch the lace. I pictured doing just that, as I worked my hand up and down, now with less force, as I began to learn what felt good.

I suddenly recalled what she’d said about that yellow lace belonging to a ‘collection’ the sensitivity in my cock went up a notch, as, in an instant, some small independent part of my brain made the decision that I was going to find that collection, and soon.

I was just beginning to imagine what that collection must look like, when my door suddenly started to open. There was no time to get out of the way, so my instinctive orhangazi escort reaction was to turn my back to the door. With my right hand still holding my hardon, my left hand shot down to meet it, in an attempt to cover myself up from whoever was coming into my room.

“Are you deaf?” my sister asked as she began to stick her head round the door.

“Err ‘scuse me! Getting changed here!” was the first thing that came into my head as I looked over my shoulder. Even then, I didn’t really think she’d bought it, as I stood in the middle of my room covered in sweat. Looking back on today, I know she didn’t.

“Oh, err, right, sorry” she offered a little embarrassingly.

“Stephen is downstairs.” She said, a little less embarrassingly, sticking her head a little further round the door.

“Right, OK. Tell him I’m on my way down, will you?” I replied hoping she would quickly leave.

But no, she actually took a step in to the room and, leaning against the edge of the door, asked.

“How long are you going to be?” I was still looking over my shoulder, and I could see her eyes roaming up and down the back of my body. They stopped at my butt and I could see her head stretch ever so slightly to the side, as she tried to get a better view of my hands clutched in front of me.

“Err, Carolyn, please, I need to get changed here!” I pleaded.

“OK, OK” she said a little disappointedly.

She turned to leave and, just as she was closing the door, I heard her say “Cute butt by the way.”

I threw on a pair of boxers, jeans and a tee shirt. As I sat putting on my socks and Dunlop Green Flashes, I was awash with feelings of horniness, embarrassment, and a sort of pride that my sister thought I had a cute butt.

I made my way downstairs to see Stephen, stood in the kitchen talking to mum. Behind them was my sister, with her back to us, and her hands in the sink doing the washing up.

As I approached them, it seemed as if they were both looking at me as if I had two heads. I must have looked as if I had just run a marathon. I was still sweating, and I felt a little out of breath, but I didn’t think anyone was going to notice!

“Are you feeling OK?” asked mum. “You don’t look great.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I said, trying not to sound flustered. They both still had a bit of a weird look on their faces. Jeez, have I got ‘I’ve just been playing with my cock’ written on my forehead? I thought to myself.

“It’s just really hot in my room.” I offered in the way of an explanation.

Carolyn placed a dish on the drainer and then turned to face me. I avoided eye contact, but could still detect the look on her face, a look that said she knew exactly why I looked so hot and bothered.

“Mum, I went up there to tell him Stephen was here and…” She began.

“Oh my god! No! Don’t tell them!” my inner voice screamed.

“… it was really hot in his room.” She added with a slight smile on her face, that only I saw.

I felt the colour rising in my face. “Come on.” I said to Stephen, and opening the back door, I ran out of the house as fast as I could.

For the next few hours, I tried to forget what had transpired earlier that day as Stephen and I played around in the woods, fields, and disused railway that backed on to the house. We had spent many hours doing this over the years, without a care in the world. But somehow, today, things felt different. I constantly found myself being distracted with thoughts of Carolyn.

By the time I got home it was beginning to get dark, and as I turned the handle on the door, I felt a little apprehension as a small part of my brain wondered whether Carolyn had said anything to mum after I had left. But it soon became obvious that she hadn’t, as I found myself getting another telling off from mum for being home so late.

I was starving so I got myself a big bowl of cereal and sat down in front of the TV where dad was watching something. I said “Hi.” and we had a chat about what I’d been up to (with Stephen, not Carolyn!), and after half an hour or so, I headed off to bed.

I paused outside Carolyn’s door, was she still wearing her yellow lace panties? I wondered. Maybe just those and nothing else? I reached up to knock on the door, but didn’t have the courage to actually do it, and instead, headed into my own room and closed the door behind me, for the second time today, more times than I had probably done in the past two weeks, I thought.

I got undressed and decided to forego the PJs, partly because of the heat and partly because I wanted to continue with my earlier experimentation with this newly discovered masturbation thing.

It was with the thought of doing this mixed with the images, real and imagined, of Carolyn in her yellow lace underwear, that had my cock fully erect by the time I’d got to the top of the ladder as climbed into my bunk bed.

I lay on top of my sheets and, for the second time in my life started to masturbate. As you would imagine, I still had no idea what I was doing. I sort of knew nilüfer escort that I should wrap my fingers and thumb round the shaft and pull backwards and forwards. So I wrapped my right hand around the shaft and all I really did was experiment with changing the strength of my grip and the speed of the strokes. My left hand just lay limply by my side. It certainly made me feel good, however, looking back on it, I was nowhere near cumming. I knew from what I’d heard that at some point I should be feeling really good and shooting out something white and sticky.

There was a clear sticky substance leaking from my cock, just like it had earlier in the day after I had been looking up Carolyn’s dress, but I guessed this was not the spurting that all my friends laughed and joked about.

After about 20 minutes or so there was more pain than pleasure, so I gave up, and in next to no time drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sound of Carolyn bursting into my room.

“Why is your door closed?” she asked quizzically, as she burst in. It took me a couple of seconds to realise where I was, what was happening and the fact that I was still laying on top of my sheets, naked, with a morning erection.

My immediate reaction was to turn away from her, facing the wall to hide my hard-on. I don’t know if she saw it, but she was suddenly in the middle of my room, telling me that mum and dad had left and she was heading off to Sarah’s and would be back in a couple of hours.

“OK, OK, right, see you later then.” I said to the wall.

“Wow, you really do like showing me that butt, don’t you?” said giggled, and, with a chirpy “Bye!” she was gone. I heard her running down the stairs and the door slam on her way out.

‘Special Collection.’ The thought immediately popped into my head. I was all alone in the house. I had the ideal opportunity to have a look at her ‘special collection’, as she put it, of underwear.

I climbed out of bed and down my ladder, naked and hard. With my cock waving around in front of me, I wandered through to the bathroom for my morning pee. I stood over the toilet waiting, but I couldn’t go with my cock at full mast. Usually, when I had this problem in the morning, it only took a minute or so for it to go down. But this morning, I was so hyped about what I was about to do, it was keeping me hard, and ‘stopping me starting,’ so to speak. I forced myself to think of other things, anything else. Eventually, it started to deflate, and I let out a pleasurable moan as a stream of pee hit the water in the bottom of the bowl. I waited for the last few drops and gave it a couple of shakes. As I was washing my hands, I could feel the excitement and anticipation build in both my heads, and looked down to see my cock slowly filling with blood again, throbbing in time to the pounding in my chest. I reached down with my right hand and gave it an encouraging couple of strokes until it was fully erect.

I left the bathroom and stood at the top of the stairs, and shouted out “Hello? Is there anybody there?” Making sure I was definitely on my own. Once I was sure, I turned, and reached for the door handle of Carolyn’s room, then slowly pushed it open and stepped inside.

This was very rare indeed. I’d hardly ever been in her room and this was the first time I’d ever been in there alone or uninvited. I breathed in through my nose, inhaling the unique scent of her room. I detected slight smell of perfume in the air, one she must have used before she left. I looked around.

The room was spotless. Nothing was out of place. It was more than twice the size of mine and, in the corner, against the wall opposite the door was her bed, slightly wider than a single with a white and brass bedstead. It was neatly made and was covered in a white bed spread. On the opposite wall, was a matching white wardrobe and chest of drawers. On top of the chest of drawers was a mirror and a selection of perfumes and other girly type stuff. At the foot of her bed was a small wicker armchair, also in white with a floral print cushion on the seat, and in the corner next to it, was a wooden barrel. I recognised the barrel as I had an identical one in my room that I used for my dirty washing. Scattered around the magnolia painted walls were various posters of her favourite bands, Queen, Genesis and Pink Floyd.

I walked over to the chest of drawers. As I did, I caught my reflection in the mirror, I stopped and, admiring this new view of my hard-on, moved around to observe it from different angles. I took hold of it, and again looked at myself from different angle whilst stroking my hard shaft. Remembering why I’d come here I let go of my cock and approached the chest of drawers. Reaching out with both hands, I opened the top two drawers at the same time. In the left one, there were neatly folded socks and tee shirts. But it was the right one that grabbed my attention it contained the jackpot!

Lined up, with military precision, was row after row of panties and bras, all folded in tiny squares. Towards the front, türbanlı escort were the everyday plain cotton M&S panties, every colour one could imagine. I reached out into the drawer with a shaking right hand, moving my fingertips over the surface of the material, barely touching it. Towards the back were bras, similarly plain looking, again in an assortment of colours. But if she really did have a special collection, this wasn’t it. I closed the top two drawers and I opened the others. They were all full of precisely folded shirts, jumpers, scarfs, hats, but still, no sign of ‘the collection’. Feeling a little disappointed, I carefully looked under the contents of each drawer to see if it was hidden under anything, being careful not to disturb anything for fear of her noticing the slightest thing being out of place, but still came up empty handed. The only other place was the wardrobe. I closed all the drawers and stepped in front of the wardrobe and opened the doors. Dresses, skirts, coats, jackets and jeans all hung according to clothing type and colour. In the bottom two shelves of boots, shoes and sandals arranged likewise. I began to feel even more disappointed. Had she lied to me?

But I definitely saw the yellow lace the day before… I turned and looked at the barrel in the corner of the room. “were they in the dirty laundry?” I wondered.

I walked over to the barrel and slowly lifted the lid and looked in. There, lying on the top of a small pile of jeans, shirts and M&S plain panties and bras was the yellow lace she was wearing yesterday. I put lid on the chair next to me, reached in and took it out and held it in my hand. It seemed tiny. The lace I had seen yesterday was just a small triangular patch, no bigger than the palm of my hand. The rest was just thin strips of elastic, covered in equally thin strips of the yellow lace. As I held the small patch of yellow lace in the palm of my hand, the rest of it dangled through my fingers like string. I turned it around in my hands, fascinated, working out how this was worn. There was a small piece of cotton, sewed into it where the lace narrowed to one of the small strings of material that I presumed sat in the crack of her ass. This was covered in a dry white substance. My hands were shaking, as I realised that this had been next to my sister’s pussy less than twenty fours ago.

I swapped hands and held it in my left hand. Then, taking hold of my shaft, I started to stroke my cock, which was still hard from all the excitement and anticipation. I moved to the middle of the room and, within seconds, was furiously pulling up and down on my shaft. With less than a days experience of masturbating, I was still learning about what was making me feel good, and what was not, but I quickly found a combination of grip strength and speed that felt good and soon had my legs shaking and feeling weak. I decided I needed to sit on the floor, and, with my back to the bed, facing the wardrobe, I resumed stroking my cock I studied the lace g-string whilst rubbing it through my fingers and thumb with my other hand. My cock was leaking the clear liquid again, and it was running in little rivulets down the head and over my thumb.

Looking down at myself, my cock in one hand, the lace thong in the other, I had an overwhelming desire to touch my cock-head with the lace. However, fearing that if I got some of the clear liquid on the lace she would notice, I ran my thumb up over the head to wipe it away. The sensation was electric. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body seemed to react as if I’d been given an electric shock. As my eyes came back into focus, I was staring at a large hat box on the top of Carolyn’s wardrobe. The instinct to carry on with this new-found ecstatic feeling was over-powered, with the inquisitive yearning to look in the hat box.

I stood up, and, dropping the yellow lace g-string on the floor, I stepped towards the wardrobe. I reached up on my tip toes and pulled down the hat box. I turned around and placed it on the bed, lifting the lid as I did. There was a sound of tissue paper rustling from the vacuum created from lifting the lid. Indeed, as I placed the lid down next to the box, I saw white tissue paper neatly folded over the top of the contents. I gently unfolded the tissue paper. A shiver went through my spine, and I let out a little involuntary moan.

This was what I had been looking for. Again, everything was folded into neatly aligned, small bundles. But this time, the multitude of colours was made up of delicate laces and shimmering silks and satins. And when, with a trembling hand, I reached into the box to glide my fingertips over the contents, the feeling in my fingertips was registering the same level of sensory euphoria as my eyes.

And, at that moment, a life-long lingerie fetish was born.

I carefully slid my fingers and thumb around and down the sides of a bundle of black lace in the middle of the box and carefully slid it out of its place. As I lifted it up, more black lace fell from the bottom of the bundle back into the box as the meticulously folded lingerie fell apart in my hand. I was left holding the cup of a bra, the rest of the tiny bundle had unravelled, and a matching black g-string, that had been folded up under the bra cup, had fallen out. I took both garments and, unfolding them, lay them down on the bed next to the box.

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