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 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, 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.
