Panties Make Me Crazy

I know I said I wouldn't have time, but I had to find time to post this because it was worth posting.  Sorry to anyone who didn't get an email from me because I was taking the time to write this instead.

The play I'm currently doing is taking a lot of my time and nearly all of the energy.  I'm bushed.  I thought that the only reserves I had untouched by this play were my sexual urges, which have been building because I haven't had much time for release.

So last night, I'm sitting in the audience watching them rehearse, checking things, just enjoying a few moments where I didn't have to be moving because I couldn't do anything while they were rehearsing.  It's a decent performance of what I think isn't a terribly good play, so I do enjoy sitting in for bits of it.  But I'd never seen them working in costume before.  There aren't any people in it who I would have at first classified as attractive.  They're not ugly, but nothing worth mentioning.  A few of the guys are cute, but they're either gay, taken, or both.  And there didn't seem to be any opportunities for eye-candy anyway.  But last night, they were in costume, and one of the women, who is probably around my age, who wasn't all that attractive in street clothes, was wearing a Catholic schoolgirl-type dress, and she did a cartwheel and wham, panties.

Suddenly, it was all I could do to keep from reaching into my own panties and getting myself off right there in the audience.  I don't know, stress, lack of outlet, lack of sleep, whatever, and suddenly this average-looking woman, because I had seen her panties, was super-sexy.  I don't want to seem so shallow, but I wouldn't ordinarily have ogled her, except panties.  They weren't even that exciting, just basic black bottoms, but I was incredibly turned on.

I have said before that I try not to mix work and pleasure, and that goes for my professional life, but not with actors.  I will fuck actors.  I have no problem with it, really, and they don't mind either, although it's usually just a one-time thing.  I've done it before.  And boy oh boy was I hungry for it.  I cooled down slightly for the next few minutes, and then, bam, panties again, because she was obviously not used to wearing a skirt on stage that was that easy to flash people in.

I waited for the director to mention it.  Nothing.  Nobody seemed to care.  So in my role as supportive feminine type, I went up to her afterward, pulled her aside, and tried to be as gentle as possible in telling her that she'd better wear something else underneath her skirt if she didn't want her panties visible on Mars when she did the cartwheel.  She blushed and was really embarrassed and said she would now that she knew.  I don't think the poor dear had any idea.  The costumer gave her something to wear, she wore it, end of story.  That she hadn't figured that her ass would be visible while doing a cartwheel... I don't know.  Maybe she thought the panties were less revealing than they were.  They were fairly revealing.

"Was it really obvious?" she asked me.  I told her that maybe it wasn't, since the director hadn't said anything, which lead to a discussion of directors and how sometimes they won't notice that half the stage is on fire.   She has a lot less experience than I do, so she was shocked at a few of the stories I could tell about directors.  I don't want to make myself sound like the old hand, but I have done a few plays and directors can be crazy (and I know, having been one myself).  Eventually the conversation worked its way back to panties and views thereof, and she wanted me to check and see if I could see them when she was sitting in certain ways.  If you think this was like asking a guy stranded in the desert if he'd mind tasting your water to see if it was any good, you'd be right.

But I was good.  Oh so good.  We talked about it, I confessed that I had done time in a Catholic institution in my youth, which led to me telling her stories about that too.  Then I said, "Here, let me try it on so I can show you," trying to illustrate some point about Catholic uniform skirts, and without thinking pulled my pants off.  Down went my panties too, of course, and there I was bare-ass.  Ordinarily I'm not embarrassed at all about things like that, but in this case, it was embarrassing.  We were alone, but still, she hadn't expected that.  Me, I'm used to pulling off clothes in the theater; it's something you have to do.  Normally, if I know I'll have to change, I wear more sensible underwear.  These ones weren't the perfect fit, elastically.

"I guess we're even then," was about all I could think to say before I grabbed my pants and pulled them back up.

"What?"

"I mean, I've seen your panties, and now..."

She giggled a bit nervously.  "We wouldn't be even unless there was something showing there shouldn't have been?"  She tried to make a joke, but failed.  "You couldn't... see everything, could you?"  I assured her that, no, I couldn't.  "Well, I barely saw anything," she said.  "Sorry.  I should have looked away or something.  That's what you're supposed to do, although I've never had someone drop their pants at me quite like that."

"No, I'm sorry, I should have worn better panties today if I'd known I would be showing them off," I said with a grin.

"You didn't exactly show off your panties," she laughed.  The tension was broken.  She said she noticed I had a Brazilian, which I don't, so I told her so.  This led into a discussion of pube removal.  I was dripping, sopping wet.  Maybe my panties fell down because there was too much lubrication in them, I don't know.  Anyway, she said she had a Brazilian.  I've never had one; I just shave.  We talked about the relative merits.  I've had people tell me all kinds of shit about waxing, and she didn't make me want to do it any more, but when she offered to show me how smooth it was compared to shaving... oh yeah, hold me back.

Turns out she wasn't going to pull off her panties and give me the full treatment, she just pulled her waistline down until I could just be tantalized by the glimpse of what was indeed a very smooth sector of skin just above something which I would have killed to get my lips on at that very moment.  But no.  I was strong.  "That's smooth," said I.  No, I wasn't strong, I was being a bit of a wuss.  She wasn't putting off any vibe which said, "Please make a move," and I can usually tell when people are.  If she'd been a guy, it might have been different, but whatever wiles I might unconsciously exude weren't working.

I offered to give her a better look at shaved, but she said that she used to shave so there was no need for that.  And with that, I was pretty sure the moment wasn't going to arrive when we'd kiss, and, disappointed, I allowed my libido to sulk back into her cave and had a conversation about hair care products for some reason.  Then she looked at her watch, realized that we'd been gabbing for half an hour at that point and she still had on her costume, thanked me for bringing the situation to her attention, blushed a little, and went to get changed.  We hadn't been having this conversation in public, in case anyone is worried (or disappointed), but not in the dressing room either.

I sat there, exhausted and incredibly, incredibly horny, and saw, in my mind's eye, flashes of her panties beneath her skirt.  I don't know what it was, exactly.  She's not really my type; not skinny, blonde, kind of squat in build, not someone, as I said, I'd normally ogle.  Not that I'm denigrating her looks; she's very pretty, just not in the way that would ordinarily drive me crazy like this.  It was the panties.  I blame them.  So I tried to shove her from my mind, finished up the work that needed finishing, was last to leave (as usual) and got home and like an answer to my prayers, Dad was sitting reading a book in the living room.  He's almost never up that late, yet there he was.  And I ripped off my clothes, got on my hands and knees in front of him, and begged him, pleaded for him to make love to me, right now.

The sensation of his cock slowly sliding into me is something I will never get tired of.  Any cock is nice, but Dad's... he's big, wide, he knows exactly how fast to move with me at any time, and he's my Daddy.  "We haven't seen enough of each other this week," he said as he bottomed out, then pressed and got a little deeper just when I didn't expect it.  "I thought I'd wait up."

And then he ground into me, slowly, as my pussy stretched on him, feeling every inch, and I came, slowly, then faster as he pulled back just as I was coming down and pressed in again, which picked me up again for another round of spasms and gasps and little moans.  I know I didn't cum for the entire time he was fucking me, but I remember it like that.  It was just a low, slow orgasm, with punctuation.  When my knees got tired, I rolled over and let him lie between the cradle of my thighs and kiss me for the first time, and we stopped talking and just made love for a few minutes until he pulled back, gripped my hips, and pumped in and out with blazing speed until finally he pressed in, stopped, and I felt the warm spread of cum inside me.

I'm really feeling a bit guilty though, because the entire time, the whole time I was with Dad, those black panties were flashing through my mind.  He even mentioned that I seemed preoccupied, and when I told him why, he grinned and said he didn't mind.  I don't think he did, but I did a little, because it was like I was obsessed.

Of course, waking up the next morning, the panties were banished, that is until I see them again.  I would really, really like to get in them.  Were it not for my harried state of mind, I might make more of an effort, or at least do a better job with the efforts I am making.  But you never know.  Maybe I'll need to name this actress because she'll be featured again.  But if not, she certainly wound my crank to the breaking point with those panties.  It's odd, because the last time I was this stressed, it was bra straps that were bugging me, but apparently this is panties season.  It'd be nice to have a fuck-buddy in this show, too, because then I'd be able to blow off some steam on the job.  Actor sex is fun, and techies aren't castigated for having it.  It's almost like it's expected.  I've known so many techies who've fucked their way through actors like it was going out of style; I'm pretty tame by comparison to some people.  But then I know lots of techies who fuck their way through the entire production staff too, and that's where I draw the line because I know how people talk about tech-whores.

Anyway, that was longer than expected and took longer than I thought to write, but I hope it was some consolation for the spotty updates of recent weeks.  I'd say my chances of scoring with this actress are pretty small, actually, but it was a sexy story that seemed like it would be perfect to share, even if it ended in a certain degree of disappointment.  Except for Dad, who was anything but disappointing.  Sexy, embarrassing, disappointing, and then back to sexy; a full circle of enjoyment.