Lust in the Lingerie Drawer
She’d always been the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying, her curves swaying like a siren’s call through the hallways of our old apartment building. Elena, with her sun-kissed blonde waves cascading down to her shoulders, and those full hips that filled out her jeans just right. Me? Jake, pushing twenty-five, lean from too many late-night gym sessions to burn off the stress of my dead-end barista job. Our walls were thin, her laughter filtering through like a tease, making my mind wander to places it shouldn’t.
🔥 It started innocently enough, or so I told myself. She’d asked me to water her plants while she was away on that business trip to the coast. Keys in hand, I let myself into her place that first evening, the air thick with her perfume—something floral and musky, like jasmine mixed with sweat after a long day. The living room was a mess of unpacked boxes from her recent move, but it was the bedroom that drew me in, door ajar like an invitation.
I shouldn’t have opened the drawer. But there they were, her lace thongs and silk bras, folded neatly, whispering secrets. My pulse hammered as I picked one up, the fabric soft against my fingers, still carrying a faint trace of her scent. Back in my own apartment, door locked tight, I wrapped it around my throbbing length, stroking slow at first, imagining her face, her breath hot on my neck. The release came hard, soaking the delicate material, and guilt twisted in my gut even as pleasure buzzed through me.
That was just the beginning. Over the next few days, I slipped back in under the guise of plant care, each time dipping into that drawer, leaving my mark in another piece. It was reckless, yeah, but the thrill? Electric. By the time her return date rolled around, I’d stashed a small bundle in a plastic bag, hidden right there among her intimates. Plan was to retrieve it before she got back, wash ’em out or something. But life has a way of fucking with plans.
Chapter 2: Shadows in the Hallway
The train station was buzzing that Thursday afternoon, crowds shoving past like they owned the platform. I’d taken the day off, figuring I’d beat the rush to her place and clean up my mess. But as I rounded the corner to our building, there was her car, parked crooked in the spot, like she’d barely made it inside. Shit. My stomach dropped, heart slamming against my ribs.
Knocking felt like pounding on my own grave. “Come in, door’s open!” Her voice floated out, warm and husky, laced with that faint accent from her European roots. I stepped into the living room, the scent of fresh coffee hitting me first, mingled with something earthier—her skin after a shower, maybe. Elena lounged on the couch in a loose robe, legs tucked under her, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. Mid-forties, but she moved like she was timeless, her body soft where it counted, firm from yoga classes I knew she took.
“Back early, huh? Trip cut short?” I forced a grin, grabbing a mug from the counter like I belonged. My mind raced—had she unpacked? Rifled through drawers? She sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim, a slow smile curling her lips.
“Yeah, meetings wrapped up. Figured I’d surprise myself with some home time. You been taking good care of things here?” Her tone was light, but those eyes… they pinned me, like she could see the sweat beading on my neck.
I nodded, babbling about the ficus that perked up, the mail stacked neat. But inside, panic clawed. She set her mug down, leaning forward, robe slipping just enough to show the swell of her breasts. “Actually, Jake, I found something interesting while unpacking. A little… gift, you could say.”
She reached behind the cushion, pulling out that damn plastic bag. My blood ran cold. The air thickened, her perfume wrapping around me like a vice.
“Care to explain?” Not angry, no—curious, almost playful. But there was heat there, simmering under the surface.
I stammered, face burning. “I… uh, it was stupid. Borrowed a couple things, meant to return ’em clean. Didn’t think you’d be back.”
Elena laughed, low and throaty, dumping the contents onto the coffee table. There they were, my stains crusty and obvious, the lace twisted. She picked up a thong, holding it to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Busy boy, aren’t you? Smells like you’ve been thinking about me a lot.”
Humiliation warred with arousal, my jeans tightening despite myself. She stood, robe swaying, and closed the distance. “Your mom—Sarah, right?—she’s always so proper. What would she say if she knew her son’s been playing with the neighbor’s delicates?”
I swallowed hard. Mom had her own history; years back, she’d walked in on me mid-stroke, towel in hand from laundry duty. No yelling, just a quiet, “Use tissues next time, kiddo,” and that was it. Understanding, in her way. But this? This was a whole other level.
Elena tilted her head, fingers brushing my arm. “Don’t look so scared. Come on, let’s talk about this somewhere more… comfortable.” She grabbed the bag, leading me toward the bedroom, hips swaying like a promise.
Chapter 3: Unveiled Desires
The bedroom door clicked shut behind us, sealing in the tension like a pressure cooker. Sunlight slanted through half-drawn blinds, casting golden stripes across the rumpled bed. Elena turned, her robe falling open just a fraction, revealing the smooth plane of her stomach, the dark thatch between her thighs. No panties. My breath hitched.
“Sit,” she commanded softly, pushing me onto the edge of the mattress. She knelt between my legs, eyes locked on mine as her hands worked my shirt up and over my head. Cool air kissed my skin, nipples hardening. Then her fingers were at my belt, tugging jeans down, boxers following. My cock sprang free, already rigid, veins pulsing with need.
“Eager, huh?” she murmured, cupping my balls, rolling them gently in her palm. Warmth spread from her touch, electric. She leaned in, breath ghosting over the tip, and I groaned, hips jerking involuntarily. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the underside from base to crown, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring a forbidden treat.
The taste of salt hit her lips as she swirled around the head, dipping into the slit, probing like she wanted to taste every drop leaking out. “Mmm, you taste like trouble,” she whispered, voice husky. Then she sucked, hard, lips sealing around the tip, drawing out more pre-cum with a wet slurp. The sound echoed in the quiet room, obscene and intoxicating.
I threaded fingers through her hair, not pushing, just holding on as she bobbed deeper, throat relaxing to take more. Gags turned to moans, vibrations humming through me. Spit trailed down my shaft, dripping onto her chin. She pulled back, strings of saliva connecting us, and stood, shedding the robe completely. Her body was a revelation—full breasts with dusky nipples, hips flaring out, ass round and inviting.
“Your turn,” she said, climbing onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. The scent of her arousal hit me, musky and sweet, drawing me in. I buried my face between her thighs, tongue lapping at her folds, slick and swollen. She tasted tangy, like ripe fruit, and she bucked against my mouth, hands fisting the sheets.
“Fuck, yes, right there,” she gasped, clit throbbing under my assault. I sucked it between my lips, flicking with my tongue, while fingers delved inside her heat, curling to hit that spot that made her arch. Her juices coated my chin, the room filling with her cries—sharp, needy.
But she wasn’t done. Pulling me up, she kissed me fiercely, tasting herself on my lips. 💋 “Now, fuck me like you’ve been dreaming.”
I positioned myself, rubbing the head against her entrance, teasing. She wrapped legs around my waist, pulling me in. Inch by inch, I sank into her velvet grip, tight and scorching. We both moaned, the stretch exquisite.
Chapter 4: Frenzy of Flesh
Our rhythm started slow, deliberate, her walls clenching around me like a fist. Elena’s nails raked my back, leaving red trails that stung deliciously. Sweat slicked our skin, the slap of bodies growing louder, wetter. “Deeper, Jake, give it to me,” she demanded, voice breaking on a whimper.
I thrust harder, angling to grind against her clit with each plunge. Her breasts bounced, heavy and hypnotic; I captured a nipple between teeth, biting just enough to draw a hiss from her. The taste of her skin—salty, warm—drove me wild. She met every stroke, hips rolling, pulling me impossibly deeper.
Time blurred, the world narrowing to this: her heat enveloping me, the creak of the bedframe, the ragged symphony of our breaths. She flipped us suddenly, straddling me, taking control. Her pussy swallowed my cock whole as she rode, grinding down with fierce rotations, clit rubbing my pubic bone.
“You like that? Filling me up?” she panted, hands on my chest for leverage, nails digging in. I gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks, thumb circling her tight rear entrance. She shuddered, eyes rolling back. “Oh god, yes—touch me there.”
Emboldened, I pressed in, the puckered ring yielding slightly. She moaned louder, pace frantic now, breasts swaying like pendulums. The room reeked of sex—sweat, cum, her essence mingling in the air. I felt her tighten, orgasm building; she slammed down one last time, crying out, body convulsing around me.
That pushed me over. I bucked up, flooding her with hot spurts, groaning as waves crashed through me. She collapsed forward, our hearts pounding in sync, sticky and spent.
But we weren’t finished. After catching our breath, she slid down, licking me clean, tongue tracing every inch. “Round two?” she teased, eyes gleaming. We shifted to the floor, carpet rough against my knees as I took her from behind, pounding relentlessly. Her ass jiggled with each impact, hands braced on the bed. “Harder, fuck me raw!”
I obliged, one hand in her hair, pulling her head back for a sloppy kiss over her shoulder. The new angle hit deeper, her screams muffled against my mouth. Another peak built, explosive, leaving us trembling heaps.
Later, as dusk fell, we lay tangled, fingers tracing lazy patterns. “This stays between us,” she whispered, but there was a spark—promise of more.
Chapter 5: Echoes and Entanglements
Days blurred after that afternoon, the memory of Elena’s body etched into my skin like a brand. I’d catch glimpses of her in the hallway, a knowing smile exchanged, heat flaring low in my gut. But reality crept back—work shifts dragging, the apartment’s thin walls now a curse, every sound a reminder.
One evening, I got home late, bags from the corner store rustling. Mom—Sarah—was in the kitchen, humming as she chopped veggies, her silver-streaked hair tied back. She’d always been the steady one, raising me solo after Dad bailed, her job at the library keeping things afloat. Cool under pressure, like that time she found me in my room, hand wrapped around myself, door creaking open.
No freakout. Just a raised eyebrow, handing me a fresh box of tissues from the shelf. “Privacy’s a door lock away, Jake. No need for laundry drama.” She chuckled, closing the door soft. Never mentioned it again. Made me think, maybe she got it—the loneliness, the urges.
“Rough day?” she asked now, glancing over. I shrugged, unpacking groceries, mind elsewhere. Elena’s scent still lingered on me, faint but there. What if Mom noticed? The thought twisted, but oddly, didn’t repel.
Sarah wiped her hands, leaning on the counter. “Heard some noise next door earlier. Elena back already?” Her tone casual, but eyes sharp.
“Yeah, early return.” I busied myself with the fridge, avoiding her gaze. Heat crept up my neck.
She nodded, stirring the pot. “Good neighbor, that one. Keeps an eye out.” Pause. “You two getting along?”
Something in her voice—teasing? I froze, then laughed it off. “Sure, Mom. Just helping with plants.”
But later, alone in my room, doubts swirled. What if Elena spilled? Or worse, what if Mom suspected more? The idea sparked forbidden flickers—Sarah’s curves softer with age, but real, comforting. No. Shake it off.
A knock at the door jolted me. Elena, slipping in unannounced, robe loose. “Missed you,” she breathed, pulling me close. We tumbled to the bed, urgent and quiet, her mouth on mine silencing moans. This time, slower, exploratory—fingers mapping new territories, her ass clenching around my probing digit as I thrust from behind again.
“You’re mine now,” she whispered post-climax, curled against me. But as she left, slipping out like a shadow, I wondered: how long before the walls talked back?
The next morning, watering her plants again—this time with permission— I found a note in the drawer: Come over tonight. Bring your imagination. Grinning, I pocketed it. Secrets had a way of binding, and this one? It was just heating up.
🔥 Back home, Sarah caught me humming. “Something good happen?”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “Life’s full of surprises.”
She squeezed back, oblivious or not. And in that moment, the lines blurred just a little more, pleasure’s web tightening around us all.
But that’s another story, simmering on the horizon.
💋
