Pink Panty Post

We were at “Aunt Carol’s” house, where Marla was staying for the summer. We had already set the date for our wedding. Aunt Carol was out of town visiting family, so we had the house to ourselves. We had never before had this opportunity to be alone together for hours at a time. We just couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
We had had sex two or three times that morning and Marla decided to surprise me with breakfast in bed. I had fallen asleep; that is when she got up and went into the kitchen.
Her panties were lying on the bed. As I turned over in the bed, my face was on the panties. As I lay there, smelling the warm scent of Marla’s sweet sex in the panties, I recalled the many times I had tried on my mother’s panties and the panties of women for whom I had baby-sat.
My cock became very erect as I continued to inhale Marla’s scent. Soon, I could contain myself no longer. It had been years since I had been able to put on a pair of panties. I slipped stealthily out of the bed, quietly closed the door and rushed over to slip on Marla’s panties.
I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. They were a great fit, although the presence of my erect cock forced the cotton fabric tighter around my hips and ass.
I rubbed myself through the panties. The excitement of the panties and my already erect condition caused me to come almost immediately.
At just that precise moment, Marla opened the door, entering with the food.
The semen was flowing right through the fabric and dripping down my leg. I was gasping from the climax as Marla’s gaze went straight to my soaked crotch. She almost dropped the tray as she set it on the edge of the bed and tossed me a dirty t-shirt to clean up with.
She said nothing as we both ate breakfast. I kept trying to think of something to say, but could not, and kept quiet. I do not know what Marla was thinking, but my thoughts ran something like—“I’ve blown it; she won’t want to marry me now.”

After breakfast, we dressed, sat down in the living room and Marla said, Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about?”
Suddenly I told Marla all of the things that I had told no one (except an Air Force psychiatrist), about my penchant for women’s clothing. I told her of my sessions in my parent’s bedroom, of my exciting ventures into the lingerie drawers of three different officer’s wives and one sergeant’s wife. I had tried on several of their clothing after putting their children to bed.

“Did you masturbate into their panties?” Marla asked seemingly in a state of shock.

“No, Marla, this is the first time. It happened so fast.

“The panties missing last month from the girl’s dorm, was that you?”

“I have never stolen anybody’s panties!” I said defensively, but not too firmly. I felt very vulnerable, having, moments ago, stood in front of my future wife in her wet panties.
“I don’t know what came over me. I will never do this again,” I promised.

“Well. We will have to see about that! This was Marla’s first comment that had the ring of judgment to it
It did not bode well for me and our future.

Telling me that she needed some time to think, I went home. The next day, Marla’s mother picked us up to take us to Beacon, Minnesota to meet her family.
When we arrived at Marla’s Aunt Lois’s house, she called me aside.
“I want you to go into the bathroom and remove your boxer shorts, put them in your pocket and put these on in their place. Understand?” With that she crammed something in my pants pocket and walked away.

I did as she instructed me to do. Having the experience of being given orders by Marla excited me and I began to get a visible erection. When I arrived in the bathroom and reached in my pocket, I was amazed to find some very sheer nylon panties in a bright pink color. I did as directed, my member getting larger as I slipped the panties up my smooth feminine legs and onto my round ass.
I was fearful on my return to the front room. My very erect penis made a highly perceptible bulge in the front of my trousers. I felt as though all three women were looking at my bulge, (looking back, I’m sure they were). Marla had a big smile on her face as she gazed directly at my crotch. This, and the feel of the fabric as I strolled across the room, served only to increase the size of my member.
I sat down next to Marla, covering myself as best I could. As Marla’s mother and aunt talked, Marla whispered in my ear, “All right, Panty Boy, hand them over,” referring to my boxer shorts, which were in my pants pocket. She immediately stuffed them in her purse.
Later that day, I observed Marla tossing them into the trash barrel outside.
She repeated this same ritual in other living rooms (even in church!) until I no longer had any boxer shorts, only panties—light blue, beige, black, red, green and the aforementioned pink, of which I now had three pair.
On one occasion, in the car parking lot, she sat next to me in the back seat, and told me to sit still and be quiet. I complied. She then began repeating the words “Panty Boy” over and over as she stroked my cock. I came very quickly, just as Marla’s mother was getting into the car. I was so wet that I was afraid of being seen. I will never know for sure as I was wearing khaki and quite visibly wet.
Before we returned to Dallas, she caught me alone one morning. I asked if she still wanted to marry me.

She said, “Yes, but even more than being my husband, you will be my ‘Panty Boy’. Now, SAY IT!”

“Say what,” I asked.

“Say, ‘I am Marla’s Panty Boy’. SAY IT!”

I didn’t hesitate. I had never heard her speak with such force. She demanded obedience. “I am Marla’s Panty Boy”

“Louder!!!” I want mother to hear it!. It will freak her out to know that I can control a husband where she never could

I then nearly shouted, “I am Marla’s Panty Boy!!”