This morning as I lay in bed beside her with my growing hard on pressing insistently against the crotch of my favorite pair was no different, the fact that the bulbous head of my cock was oozing globs of precum against the material my mind was only on the sensations that were making my balls ache for release. I wouldn't say that I was constantly obsessed with ejaculating against or on the silky material but I had a particular fetish to masturbating with panties occasionally and bringing myself off whilst rubbing my dick with them, the need to do so stemmed from adolescent jacking off of many loads into my sister’s clean and used panties as a teenager which had now turned into an occasional need to feel my wife’s panties excite me, which progressed to wearing the sensual items occasionally to arouse myself when my wife was not home. I especially loved the feel of my hardening cock restricted by the sensuous materials and the sensations the material provided on my cock as it was. I thought back to the kitchen of my youth, the hub of the house, my mother always there, always cooking. Pouring out a large measure of whisky I made my way into the living room. Again, there was no warmth here, no cosy chairs, no family pictures crammed onto mantlepieces. A cold and impersonal room that matched my cold and impersonal marriage. I switched the television on to lessen the oppressive atmosphere but my mind was elsewhere. Back to the summer of 1976 and a sweet-faced girl on the brink of womanhood. We had always been friends for as long as I could remember. We lived two doors apart and our parents knew each other from way back. I have pictures of us in the paddling pool together or laughing as we attended some party. They were happy times and it wasn’t until we were about 14 that we realised our friendship was different from all the rest. We loved being together and I would track Louise down to show her some model I had made, her delight and interest making me feel warm.
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