Voyeur With Benefits

Posy Churchgate
11 mins read
Published about 1 year ago
Chapter 1

Voyeur With Benefits

I began to suspect something a little odd was going on when my favourite panties went missing. 

“We have a poltergeist who likes my underwear!” I said to myself, irritatedly rummaging through my scanties. With today’s butt-hugging pale skirt, I needed both colour and cut to help avoid VPL but I was unable to locate the beige lace and satin french knickers.

I’d spent too much time hunting down my AWOL panties, so I didn’t have time to ask my partner Rick about it. Because he worked from home, he did most of the chores such as cleaning and cooking, but laundry was down to me. I didn’t trust him not to shrink things or have colour run disasters so I washed, dried and sorted our laundry. Apparently, I couldn’t trust him not to lose them either. Settling on some Bridget Jones-style granny pants as an un-sexy but practical alternative I slammed drawers and doors shut, hurrying off to work.

Rick was a self-employed mechanic, with his workshop adjacent to our house. He spent hours lying under people’s vehicles or bent at the waist over engines. His workwear was jeans and sweatshirts, boots and overalls. He was a fairly macho kind of guy who worked with his hands and watched rugby on weekends. However, he also had a soft side which I loved. He cooked delicious meals which we’d eat by candlelight, sipping wine and listening to music. On Friday nights you’d find us snuggling up to watch romcoms or classic black-and-white movies. He truly was the sweet-and-salty popcorn version of a man, rugged and capable combined with a loving, sensitive nature. He completed me.

When I got home from work that night, Rick was clean and fragrant in a hoodie and joggers. It’d been a bitterly cold day and he’d needed a shower just to warm up. I was sorry to have missed that, because sometimes I join him. We enjoy being all slippery and soapy together, my butt pressed to his groin. His sculpted body looks great adorned with crystal droplets of water. When he gropes and massages my breasts, my nipples tighten to points. I can back up hard against him, rubbing his length between the curved globes of my arse until we start fucking doggy-style, under drumming streams of hot water.

I quickly divested myself of my work attire and hit the shower solo, luxuriating under its invigorating warmth. I entertained myself with blue movie memories of our sexy bathroom play running through my mind until I realised I was throbbing with subdued excitement as I towelled myself dry. Selecting sexy, barely-there underthings covered by loose loungewear, I joined Rick in the kitchen, hugging his broad chest and nibbling the sensitive spot near his ear affectionately.

As we enjoyed a delicious meal that night the urge to moan about my frustrations with missing underwear was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to break the sexy mood we had building. Rick was giving me smouldering looks causing the lace of my thong panties to dampen against my mound. Laundry sorting irritations could wait to be untangled another day.


Another week passed. This time I couldn’t find dark green knickers which matched the bra I’d already fastened. It was so frustrating because I’d need to change. It’s important to my body positivity for my underwear to match, or at least coordinate, but I don’t own any other green panties. I finally located a pair decorated with a green bow which also worked with skin-tight trousers. They would have to do, but this misplaced laundry situation was really starting to grind my gears. It made me feel wrong-footed as I’m someone who likes to be organised.

“Those suede jeans look great, babe,” Rick said admiringly, giving my rear a slap once I was dressed.

“Thanks!” I preened. Previous thoughts of asking where the hell my knickers were evaporated with the tingling thrill. “See you tonight. Oh—I’ll be later than usual. I have a hairdresser’s appointment—around 6:30.”


As it turned out I wasn’t late; I got home at my usual time because my hairdresser cancelled. Music was blaring loudly as I entered the house, which he knew I didn’t appreciate. Shrugging off my coat something gave me pause. The lounge door was open a few centimetres and through this gap I glimpsed bare limbs and torso.

Rick was lounging on the sofa with his legs apart and his head thrown back in bliss. I froze and held my breath, unsure of what I was seeing.

My stomach dropped like I was abseiling down a building. “He’s having an affair,” said a nasty voice in my head. I vacillated between horror and fury, but clenching my fists, I stepped up to the gap for a closer look. I had a morbid urge to see who my competition was.

Adrenaline and anger flooded my chest in equal measure until I was able to confirm, with a lurching feeling, that there was no woman between his legs. Just Rick. 

With my missing green panties in his fist, moving in a blur. 

My initial shock and surprise had me rooted to the spot, watching with a strange fascination. As my mind swirled with puzzlement, something else began to bubble deep inside me. I was surprised to register that seeing him like this was making me feel hot and flustered. It was strangely thrilling to watch my man pleasure himself with my panties. He had their dainty lace fabric gripped tightly around his hard cock. He pinched his own nipple with work-rough hands and bit his lip as he beat his meat, precum drooling over the purple, swollen dome of his cock.  

My pussy twitched while a slick of moisture gathered between my nether lips. I felt the urge to touch myself as I watched, but dared not move. Rick’s neck muscles corded as his abdominals began to tense; I knew those tell-tale signs. He was going to come soon. 

He continued to tug at his nipple while a flush crossed his chest, under his smattering of chest hair. Suddenly he began to spasm, his neck curled towards his chest while his hips bucked, thrusting up through the taut fabric of my green panties. This seemed to add to the propulsion of pearly jism which hit his abdomen. I felt sympathetic throbs in my pussy as he groaned out his ecstasy.

As his climax ebbed, I snapped out of my trance. I needed to pretend I hadn’t seen this, to give myself time to process this new information and the maelstrom of feelings that came with it. I spun on my heel to grab my coat, shrugging it on as I slipped silently out of the door. I waited at some distance down the road, looking at my phone screen without really seeing anything, while questions clamoured in my head. Does this mean Rick wears other types of ladies clothes? Does he wear mine? Is he planning a sex change? 

I’m not sure how much time passed before I felt able to return, but I made a big noise unlocking the door for the second time and slamming it shut behind me.

“I’m home!” I called, shrugging out of my coat slowly as if for the first time. I hung my handbag on the banister before chucking car and house keys noisily in the dish. 

I wandered into the lounge, now deserted with the same music now playing softly. The water system groaned, indicating the shower was running. I sat where Rick had so recently been. The sofa cushions still felt warm and I could detect a whiff of sex in the air. 

How did I feel about this? Confused? Surprised definitely, yet I realised I felt no betrayal or lies. I needed more information in order to fully process, but decided to gather it by stealth.

While Rick showered, I googled. I discovered this was quite a common male fetish. Apparently, many guys got a buzz from its illicit nature. Some even progressed to wearing women’s underwear all the time, under their normal clothes. There was extensive discussion about which fabrics men most enjoyed the feel of against their skin: satins, silks and lace; those not commonly used in men's clothing. Many guys preferred knickers which had already been worn, to envelop their manhood in the smells and possible emissions from the women in their lives.

The thrill that guys who wore panties gained seemed to vary widely, so I needed to make my own observations. If the ‘forbidden’ element was part of the thrill, I’d hate to spoil that for Rick by letting on what I knew. I settled on carrying out more detective work.


A day or two later the green knickers re-appeared, freshly laundered, in my drawer underneath a few other pairs. I’d underestimated Rick, he could launder delicates after all. Next time I made plans to come home late, I deliberately added 30 minutes to the time I told him I’d be home. On my return I parked further away, then walked quietly down the side of the house, hoping to have a view through the french doors. And what a view it was…

Rick was using the vacuum to clean the lounge. He’d closed the curtains at the front windows, so my vantage point was at the back. He seemed to be enjoying parading around in a pair of my best knickers. His long, lean body and pale skin provided a stark backdrop to the black lacy concoction he’d borrowed. Their bikini shape cupped his cock and balls snugly while his length was just-about contained in the shadowy fabric. As he moved about using the vacuum cleaner on the floor and under the sofa, he bent and stretched exaggeratedly, wearing an expression of bliss. Next, he set the vac to one side, stroking his lace clad package before picking up the feather duster. Rick reached up high to clean above pictures and along the curtain rail. He turned and I was able to catch a side view. His swelling dick was straining against the knickers, tenting their dimensions obscenely. I’d never seen his cock look so big; I’d guessed he was enjoying the sensation of the delicate fabrics rubbing against him, dragging between his buttocks and barely containing his engorged flesh.

I swallowed hard, aware my nipples were doing a little ‘tenting’ of their own. Their tips were sharp objects snagging on my smooth jersey top. Rick’s package looked so big in contrast with my flimsy little panties, that they were struggling to give him decent coverage. The happy trail which ran between his pecs downwards to disappear behind the bow atop the front panel had me licking my lips. I focused on the tip of his cock, which had escaped its lacy confines, and how its purple head drooled a slick of salty precum.

Rick looked down at himself, a familiar look of lust etched on his expression. Setting the duster aside he settled down on the sofa, legs spread wide apart. I watched, biting my lip, as my fella slid a hand sensuously down the front of his body before inveigling it underneath the ribboned front of the panties to begin fondling himself. 

My own breathing became ragged as I witnessed his rapt concentration. My heart thumped clumsily while my pussy dampened. Seeing him use the light, exploratory touches on himself that I’d felt him use on me countless times awoke surges of lust, which seemed to echo his, judging by the copious trail of pre-cum with which he smeared and stroked himself.

His eyes closed as he stroked and tugged himself to full expansion, and his teeth caught his bottom lip with concentration. After a while, he tilted at the waist to shimmy those knickers of mine down his hips and off, trailing them sensuously up his muscled legs and over his exposed cock and balls. He made several long strokes with the panties in his hands, tickling and teasing his manhood before rolling onto his side so he could trail them over the orbs of his buttocks. 

It was both fascinating to watch, and arousing. I began to press and rub my pussy over the top of my jeans. I felt the folds squelch and thrum under my eager fingers. Rick has always been a caring and attentive lover, I could now see where some of his ‘expertise’ came from.

Foreplay seemed to move to the next level as Rick dropped my panties over his cock, like prey caught in a net. He grasped his hand around his girth and began to slowly, teasingly rub himself with them, encouraging his foreskin to shift up and down within this grip. 

It was such an erotic sight, witnessing Rick’s sensual touch and evident pleasure, that I had to attend to my own thrumming flesh. I unzipped my jeans and eased them down and, allowing enough access for my hand to slip into my knickers, I began to stroke my slick flesh. My juices were hot, particularly in contrast with the chill which had crept into my fingers. In contrast, my lubricated folds felt welcoming and silky. My pussy almost sucked at the digits as my desire climbed.

In the vista before me, Rick sped up his strokes, grasping and twisting his foreskin a little with each pump of the hand that encompassed his engorged shaft. Its domed tip was purple and glossy, so I longed to suck it into my mouth like a lollipop. With his free hand, Rick began to cup and massage his balls, manipulating and caressing the orbs in their sac. Wanting more sensation myself, I pinched and plucked at my breasts through my clothes. My puckered, taut nipples responded with flares of sensation, an ache that was near to pain but all pleasure.

Rick’s hand was moving in a frenzy now, smoothing and pumping his foreskin up and down, while an inner tension built, pulling his body taut like a bow-string. Equally frantic, I pressed and rubbed circles around my clit, pumping inside myself with greedy fingers.

Rick and I began to climax simultaneously. While his body spasmed with joyful spurts of come, mine throbbed, pressing insistently around my fingers. My eyes closed for a moment, lost in my own sensation, I completely forget where I was. My own heat and wetness pulsed and I focused on sensations of pleasurable release.

When I opened my eyes I felt flushed with shame to have given myself over so completely to the moment. I’d been so lost in my pursuit of pleasure I’d become oblivious to the fact that I was in the garden, where a nosey neighbour could observe my lewd behaviour. 

I dragged my eyes back to Rick who was idly stroking and mopping at his fluids; I giggled when I realised two pairs of my best panties were soaked through simultaneously. How could I be angry when we’d both eked such satisfaction from his illicit panty fetish. 

As I zipped up and re-arranged my clothes I realised my challenge now was to nurture and encourage his predilection without disclosing what I knew. He needed to get thrills from more covert activities, because there was no denying that I found watching him incredibly erotic.


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