My Man is Wearing my Panties ....

My Man is Wearing my Panties…..

…………and I cannot begin to describe how much it turns me on.

What on earth is it about seeing my lover in my knickers that makes my pudenda blush up to a crimson crown and makes my prostrate flourish ready to emit fountains of fuck juices?

I know that some people would consider this as a step too far into the realms of man being in touch with his feminine side but it simply has nothing to do with that whatsoever.
He doesn’t want to wear my panties as part of some sort of new cross-dressing fetish, and quite frankly, even if he did, then that would be absolutely fine and dandy. No, he wants to wear my panties because he feels liberated, sensualised and excited by having my panties partly covering his cock and balls. He likes to try and replicate and appreciate the feeling that I have when I am wearing them. Furthermore, he likes to have a part of me, the remnants of my own sexuality firmly in tact with his own body. He likes to wear panties that are scented with me; ones that he can dribble his juices into too, if the situation arises, culminating in a pair of lacy ones that have an amalgamation of our sexy lubrications.

Well, how does the reader feel about this? Is it seen as a fetish or is it seen as someone who is so in touch with his own sexuality that he can imaginatively consider ways of expressing it in new and exciting ways?

For me, it is highly complementary as well as beautifully horny. To think that he has both a need and desire to have this closeness with me is extremely endearing as well as enormously stimulating, and I simply love thinking of him walking around in my undies.
You see, this man doesn’t just pop my knickers on for a short walk around the house. He actually wears them for the entire day. He goes out of the house wearing them, to take the dog for a walk. He nips into town still clad in my lacy thongs or the likes. And from time to time, he is massively aware of the lace around him, knowing that prior to him wearing them they have been wrapped around and often entered into my juicy cunt.
How utterly wonderful is that? I am actually quite overwhelmed by this.

But it doesn’t stop there. Not only does he wear my panties, he also carries a pair around with him, so that from time to time he can place his hand in his pocket and feel that tactile texture that he knows I love to wear. He can also reach into his pocket and extract my panties, placing them close to his nose and inhale the strength of my aroma, my sexiness, my essence of life. He can remind himself of what I looked like, how I tasted, what I did when I was last wearing them. He can look and see the remnants of the pleasure that I enjoyed when I was last with him as I dribbled lubricants out onto the gusset.
And he is satisfied, delighted, invigorated, calmed, blissed out all over again.

And even more, he takes photographs of himself wearing my panties, and sends them to me because he knows that this completely arouses me. I adore to see his rather wonderful pert arse clad in my thongs. I don’t even mind the fact that they look better on him than they do on me!
And then he turns himself around so that I can see just how his glorious cock is escaping from the lacy ones, with his buxom balls hanging low and full. How I love to receive these photographs, especially when they are accompanied by arousing words that send me into sexual oblivion. He really does understand me and knows just what I want to see and hear and read, as well as, of course, knowing what I want to feel and taste when I see him.
Last week, I popped over to see him. We were just talking and spending some quality time catching up on some much needed kisses, when he suddenly unzipped his trousers to reveal his black boxers with a bulging erection clearly visible. As I watched in awe at his stunning sexiness, he grasped the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down his legs. Eagerly, I anticipated the sight of his erect cock, which indeed was very apparent, but even more exciting was the fact that his big dick was protruding out from the bottom of my black and white speckled knickers.
Placing my hands in my own underwear to get to my lover’s cock, to place it in my mouth and hungrily smother my mouth with him was totally exhilarating.
Looking at him standing in front of me with my black panties covering his arse and almost covering his balls was simply wonderful.

So why am I mentioning all of this?Well, it is essentially because I feel that there are many people who would benefit enormously from this simple statement of sexuality.
My lover says that he feels more spiritually connected to me by wearing my underwear. He says he feels a greater sense of wellbeing, and surely this is something that could be simply achieved by other people.

If you are unable to be with your lover or your partner, and you want to be reminded of them, then wearing or holding onto a pair of their panties seems to be a very appropriate way of doing so, particularly if they are smothered in juices from the very essential parts of their body.
Even if you are not yet quite comfortable with one another’s sexuality, and feel that scented knickers are just a bit too personal, then I would strongly suggest that you merely get a pair of their clean knickers so that you can just have a sense of them being a part of you, knowing that there are frequent times in the day when this simple artefact can remind you of the immensely pleasurable times that you share with one another.

The other day, my lover returned some of my knickers to me. He had washed them so that they were bereft of both mine and his sexual juices, yet because he had aired them in his house, used his particular brand of washing powder, they still somehow smell of him and his house – how lovely!
Even though they are not fragrant with his cum, I can still smell him on them and even though I want to be able to smell his earthy, divine lube juice, this aroma suffices for the time being.

And here is another issue. Sexuality is often described in terms of physical feelings, of touch and taste, of sight and hearing, but this essential sense of smell is often overlooked. Even worse, the ‘smell’ of sex is often deemed to be negative, revolting, coarse and crude.
I was just looking up the word ‘pudenda’. It has a Latin derivative and its meaning is ‘shame’.
Well, I think it is time to get rid of the ‘shame’ of sex, and where better to start than with this issue of smell.

I love looking at my man in my panties but what I love even more is his appreciation of these articles of clothing are not simply for their aesthetic value. What he really loves about having and wearing my panties is that they smell of me. He can sniff my sexuality, he can add to this smell with his own sexuality. He knows that a mere glimpse of my residue on my knickers can warrant him to raise them to his nose to get a full fix of me.

Now that is extremely invigorating!