One of the great things about being an apartment manager is that from time to time you get to be inside a unit while the owner is away. It’s not that I ‘m there illegally, mostly it’s because I’ve been asked to water the plants or look after the cat, but there is a kind of strange thrill about being inside someone else’s home, while they’re absent. I never pilfer anything, but I do investigate the dresser drawers in the bedrooms, looking not for valuables, but for underwear, men’s underwear. And when I find a pair, I’ll give them a good sniff. Laundry hampers are even better. A nice pair of used briefs will get me really turned on. Sometimes, I even try them on, after all, they’re going to be washed when the owner comes back, so why not? I really like to wear another guy’s underpants, and if I’m lucky enough to find a cum-stained pair, then I’m in heaven. But I always put them back as I found them.
Yesterday, I got a phone call from a guy called Justin, in apartment 36B. I once caught a glimpse of him through his living room window, while he was wearing just his briefs. I couldn’t hang around all day gazing in his window, but I’d stared long enough for him to catch me looking. This morning, on the phone, Justin told me he was trying to replace one of the fluorescent tubes in his kitchen ceiling, but he couldn’t get the old tube out, and could I help him? Of course I could help him, in more ways than he might have guessed.
Dressed in my jogging shorts, with Hanes white briefs
“Oops,” he said, “you’ve caught me in my underwear,”
“No problem,” I replied. “Underwear is dress-of-the-day for me when I’m at home. No need to dress up for me.”
He led me into his kitchen where he had placed a chair in the middle of the floor. Above, I could see he had removed the translucent ceiling panel, exposed the light fitting. “This shouldn’t take long,” I said, slipping off my sneakers, not wanting to leave footprints on his furniture.
“Wanna beer?” he asked.
“It’s kinda early, but what the fuck, sure.” He took a couple of cans out of the fridge and popped the lid of one for me and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Thanks,” I said. I stepped up on to the chair and wiggled the fluorescent tube back and forth. I could tell there was nothing wrong with it and it was going to come out easily, so I figure it was just a ruse to get me into his apartment, but I went along with the game and pretended that it was stuck.
From time to time I would bend down to pick up the beer can, giving him a nice look up the back of my shorts at the exposed edge of my white briefs, take a long pulls on my beer, and then bend down again to replace the can. At one point, I lifted my right leg up and put my foot on the back of the chair. If he moved to his right, he would get a nice view up the leg of my shorts. Sure enough, he casually moved to the right, and my dick started to harden in my briefs. After a few seconds, I switched legs, causing him to move back to his left, and, predictably enough, he made the move. I looked down at him and could detect a growing bulge in his briefs. Things were beginning to heat up. I let him stare at me for a minute or so, then pulled the tube out.
“Here we go,” I said, “Hand me the new one.”
He passed it up to me, and I spent another minute or so, pretending to have difficulty fitting it, allowing him a nice uninterrupted view of my briefs up the leg of my shorts. By now my dick was hard, painfully bent downwards in my Hanes, creating a very visible mound at the front of my shorts.
“I like those shorts you’re wearing,” he said.
“Yeah, I love nylon, I like the smooth silky feel of them. Go ahead, have a feel.”
I knew he would be unable to resist. He reached up both hands and stroked my hips, then slid his hands over my buttocks. “You’re right,” he said, “It does feel nice.” One hand came round to the front and cupped my basket, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Much nicer for me,” I said, taking another pull on my beer. “Don’t stop.”
He manipulated my dick through the material to a more comfortable upright position. It’s head was only just contained by the waistbands of my briefs and shorts. He rubbed his hand up and down the shaft, while his other hand went up the back of my thigh, up the leg of my shorts, and caressed the white cotton covering my ass. I gave him a huge smile.
Then he abruptly pulled my shorts down to my ankles and stepped back to look at me. I kicked the shorts off, and did a slow pirouette on the chair, taking care not to overbalance, so he could get a nice all-round view of me in my underpants. His breathing began to quicken. “Do you like what you see?” I asked.
“You’re gorgeous. Don’t go away.”
He went into the living room an came back with a digital camera. I pirouetted for him again while he snapped of a few pics. I finished the last of the beer and handed him the empty can. “That was enjoyable,” I said, ambiguously.
Stepping down off the chair, massaging myself, I pulled out the waistband of his briefs, took his dick in my hand and stroked it as his hard on throbbed. I bent down and licked the mushroom head, teasing it with my tongue. It didn’t take him long to cum. With his eyes closed and his head thrown back, his whole body gave a shudder, his dick swelled up and began to pulse and a nice big squirt of cum shot out, right on target, into my waiting mouth. The next few squirts landed on my face and chest, and I milked the last drops on to my hand, which I brought to my mouth and licked off. His cum tasted beautiful, mild and creamy and very exciting. It was enough to send me over the top, and I came inside my own briefs, pumping my pent-up load into my crotch.
I stood up and put my arms around him, and he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, clearly enjoying the taste of his own cum.
“Can I keep your underpants?” I asked him.
“Of course. And I’m going to keep yours.”
“And you can keep my nylon shorts as well,” I said. “You’ll look sexy in them.”
“I can lend you a pair of pants for you to get back to your apartment in,” he said.
“Don’t bother.”
This article was altered and reprinted from the story archive Nifty. Attempts to reach the author were unsuccessful.
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