Jackson #2
A valiant soldier for no good reason, I do my best to ignore the way my cock twitches and aches between my legs.
The way my hips subconsciously thrust against the softness of the towel, desperate for relief.
Finally reaching my dresser, I tug at the gathered corner of the towel responsible for keeping it tight around my hips, and a rush of cold air as terry cloth puddles around my feet almost makes my dick go soft. Almost.
It juts out from my body, proud and throbbing. A bead of clear liquid sits nestled in the slit. And I give it one quick stroke. That’s all. Just something to take the edge off.
Okay, maybe two strokes.
Now I’m fully fisting my cock, dragging a hand from root to tip, collecting slippery pre-cum on my palm and starting over with a low, rumbling moan.
In a last-ditch effort to stop myself, my free hand yanks open the top drawer of my oak dresser, as if a pair of boxers is going to magically prevent me from fucking my hand.
I blindly feel through the drawer, fingers closing around something extraordinarily soft and untangling it from the mess of underwear and socks.
Soft, thin, and light pink—I’m clutching a pair of Kate’s underwear.
My breath stutters before turning to small, frantic pants.
I stare at the fabric held between my fingers, tightening my grip on my cock until my vision becomes hazy.
Surely they got mixed up with mine while Kate was doing laundry, and she didn’t notice. She wouldn’t have slipped this pair of pretty pink panties into my drawer in the hopes I’d find them, not when her dresser is mere feet away, and I’ve had unlimited access to her underwear for weeks.
But then again…didn’t the pink stand out in a drawer of black and dark gray?
I stumble backward toward the bed, rolling the thin cotton between my finger and thumb.
What I’d give to see Kate wearing these and nothing else.
I prop myself up against the headboard, and the grip on my cock stills at the thought of Kate walking into the room and catching me masturbating with her panties.
I watch the door, ears perked for the unmistakable floorboard creak of her footsteps, cock pulsing and dripping down the back of my hand.
Without second thought, I use her panties to wipe the mess, then slowly brush them down my shaft.
I thrust upward into the fabric, pretending it’s the softness of her pussy enveloping my thick cock, and an unbidden moan escapes my lips. I immediately pause, eyes trained on the door handle, waiting to see if she heard the sounds of my agony and is coming to check on me.
For some reason, I think I want her to see this.
Feral, I fuck her underwear, sliding them up and down the length of my shaft. Silky and smooth on my skin. I shut my eyes and press my cheek to her pillow to help my fantasy.
I imagine Kate opening the door to see me with my legs spread wide in invitation.
With a lustful smile, she’d shut the door and drop her clothes, showing off the body she’s been hiding from me.
I’d make her crawl up the bed, and she’d do it because I know—based on the way her knees fell apart for my touch this morning—Kate’s hungry and impatient for my cock.
She’d take its thickness in her soft hands, plump lips parting to welcome me into her mouth, tongue flicking across the tip.
I shift the pink panties, smoothing them over the head, moaning into Kate’s pillow.
Picturing the way her pussy might feel as she straddles me in the middle of the bed and impales herself, soaking wet cunt gripping and squeezing the life out of my cock.
My hand squeezes around my shaft like I’m trying to pull the thing clean off my body. Like I’m angry at it.
I am angry. At myself for the fact that I’m secretly fucking my wife’s underwear, and for the fact that I’m not charging out into the kitchen and dragging her back here so I can shove these panties in her mouth and thrust my cock so deep into her she feels it in her throat.
My teeth clench together. I know she’d sound unbearably sweet as she fell apart, her moans bringing life to the room, rough and smooth all at once.
The daydream has my balls tightening with an all-over ache, my stomach and legs tensing and flexing as a familiar throbbing sensation overwhelms my senses.
I roll my wrist, squeezing the sensitive head.
Kate’s panties are coated in my pre-cum, catching on the deep ridge and forcing yet another primitive grunt that has me burying my face into her pillow.
Heat unfurls from my groin with the hard, fast fuck of my hand, until my muffled cry bounces around inside my skull and I spill hot ropes of cum across my bare stomach.
Entire body trembling, I loosen my hold on my cock and roll away from the pillow to catch my breath. Kate’s underwear swipes up my stomach, half-assedly cleaning the cum threaded through the thick trail of hair running from my belly button down to my dick, which is still twitching and bobbing.
I don’t remember losing my virginity, or being intimate with Kate, or even how many women I’ve slept with, period.
It’s all foreign and yet I can picture her so fucking clearly I’m left wondering if the vision of Kate riding me, eyes clouded with lust and moans giving life to an empty room, is a memory I’ve somehow recollected.
I’m still clutching Kate’s pair of now-dirty underwear and honestly considering snooping through her drawer to see if she has more pairs like these. Something to aid in my future jerk-off sessions, because now that I’ve thought about her this way, I’m not sure it’s an image I’ll ever shake.
The air smells salty and sweaty, and I’m in need of a second shower to properly clean the sticky mess from my stomach.
I slowly shuffle to the edge of the bed and toss Kate’s underwear into the nearby laundry hamper.
Fingers rake through still-damp hair, and I take concentrated breaths until my heart beats steady and slow.
My head hurts, but it’s a good kind of ache, like I’ve worked a muscle for the first time in a long time.
Also, good news: my dick works fine.