New knickers and the guilty wanker (part one)

I was growing in confidence as a cottager and it was becoming somewhat of an obsession. A safe hetero relationship cultivates sexual fantasy to prolong interest, but here I was actualising desire, I was creating and embodying the fantastic. It was the surprising diversity of feelings that kept me coming back for more. I would feel afraid, over-powered and blissfully vulnerable – or I would feel strong, controlling and radiant. These sensations where incredibly powerful and could shift many times within even a single encounter. This sex was the most real I had experienced in along time.

And so carrying a bag of recently purchased underwear I walked expectantly to the secret place. This time I decided to try the bus station toilets after discovering a new peephole inside a few days before, it was the early afternoon and the overcast sky rained steadily.

In the disabled section of the lavatory I closed and locked the door behind me. It was here that a medium hole (now plugged with paper) had been made in the slim dividing-wall directly beside the upright urinal trough. The hinge of the door (facing similarly) was unusually wide and so one could stand in the corner and be seen from head to foot from the outside if desired, or retreat from view completely. It really was a choice location for the voyeur. Its only awkward feature was a large white, horizontal bar that had been fitted at waist height for wheelchair users. The immovable rod obstinately blocked the best viewing position.

Nevertheless, I felt strangely safe here and burned with excitement as I fully undressed and began putting on the new underwear. It was amazing to be back in stockings again and on this significant occasion, for the first time, they were mine! They were neither borrowed nor stolen and I felt as if now, I was finally being allowed to guide both of my identities freely.

I proudly looked down at myself – my beautifully smooth abdomen and genitals were at last given a perfect context; their powder-puff whiteness immaculately fixed in place by the leg-hugging sheen of a pair of hold-ups… Perfection.

I was just wriggling the new panties into position when somebody entered – the spring door loudly creaking and then smacking and bouncing back into place. I turned my coat so that the fur was on the outside and slipped it back on. The floor was relatively clean and so I remained in stockinged feet only, my shoes, bag and trousers were piled together in a dry corner. Before the visitor had got to the urinal I quickly opened the peephole and stood to one side. Quietly I waited…

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