There was always something about female underwear that fascinated me, and nylon especially. I couldn’t resist from touching the synthetic fibre, and feeling that electric twinge of excitement, causing my young cock to stir. My mother had very little in the way of attractive underwear; mostly beige bras and knickers, and definitely nothing as exciting as a pair of stockings! She adorned her legs in thick tan coloured tights whenever she wore a skirt or dress.
I would spend my summer holidays with my grandmother, and it came to my teenage attention that her wardrobe was full of much more interesting lingerie. A lot of it from her younger days that she could no longer fit into, and a great deal more exciting than bras, pants and tights. My curiosity was piqued after setting eyes on her wonderful collection, and I awaited an opportunity to become better acquainted with those gorgeous undergarments.
That presented itself one rainy midsummer’s morning as my grandmother departed to run a stall at the local church jumble sale, stating that she would be gone for several hours. As soon as she was out of sight, I entered her bedroom and made a beeline for her wardrobe. As I opened up the wooden doors, the smell of stale perfume and freshly laundered clothes combined to elevate my senses, and my eyes wandered lustfully over her delicates, hanging neatly in a row on the rack. The combination of satins and silks, frills of delicate lace, and patterned sets of bras and knickers soon had my young cock fully hardened. Girdles, corsets and suspender belts caused my teenaged member to jump and twitch. I gently caressed the forbidden fibres with my trembling fingers, delighting in the softness and beauty of the specific garments. But then my eyes rested on a delightful red and black patterned bodice, frilled in delicate lace about it’s edges, and four black suspender straps hung elegantly below. My young member ached in the confines of my trousers as my eyes rested on it’s form, my hands shaking as I caressed the soft material.
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