Glenda and Her Panties



In the early 80s, Glenda and I worked for a multi-national consumer goods company in Durban, South Africa. We were both in the marketing department and initially, Glenda, who was a couple of years older than me, maybe 31 back then, was my boss as the marketing manager of one group of brands and I was one of her brand managers. We always got on well and laughed and joked about the silliest of things.

She was a striking woman; not beautiful but striking. Short, at about 5′ 4″ with shoulder length natural blonde hair that she toyed around her fingers whenever she was deep in thought, which was to me, quite a turn-on. She had a roundish face and to be blunt, quite a big nose but she also had piercing blue eyes and when she smiled or laughed, her face literally lit up and she verged on beautiful.

But it was her body that was the real turn-on — she was curvy; voluptuous – in the way that Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren were. She had curves where woman were meant to have curves, in my opinion. She had curvy hips and a delightful bum but her most impressive assets were her boobs — they were big — round and big, I don’t actually recall her size, which thinking about it, is appalling of me, bearing in mind how many times over the next couple of years to come I would remove her bra but I guess in the passion of the moment, it never dawned on me to stop and take a look at the size reflected on her bra label — nor to just ask her! — but my guess would be she was a 34 DD and she never did anything to conceal the fact that she was more than proud of them.

She dressed professionally but sexy, more than conscious of her womanhood and the effect she could have on men, in what was a male dominated business world in those days. Durban is hot, hot, hot almost all year round; hot and humid; which is generally uncomfortable for the guys in suits, collars and ties but delightful in terms of what the female corporates would thus wear to work.

She often wore tight fitting business suits; jacket and a skirt — the skirts were never what you would call miniskirts but just noticeably shorter than one might have expected in a corporate environment. I was to learn later in our relationship that she always had her skirts shortened professionally to the length she desired; maybe just a centimetre or two but just enough that no man could miss the fact that she did indeed have very attractive and shapely legs. She matched the suits with high heels and thin blouses and once in the airconditioned offices, she would take off her suit jacket and her blouse could do nothing but strain against her gorgeous breasts, that were invariably cupped in a lacy bra whose imprint it was impossible not to notice, lying tantalisingly just beneath the material of her blouse.

Other days she would wear flowing cotton sun dresses; usually nipped at the waist and accompanied by flat shoes making her seem even more diminutive but somehow, accentuating her sexuality. Again, her breasts would be exaggerated within the constraints of her dresses, as she went about her business.

Very few women would wear pantyhose in that sort of climate; Glenda was no exception and her legs were always bare and were shown off with a light but delicious tan, for all to enjoy.

I was married at the time, as was she. We enjoyed each other’s company at work and socially; we would attend parties and dinner parties at each other’s homes or meet at restaurants for evenings out. Glenda was married, seemingly happily, to a Dutch guy who I found to be very dour and boring and I often wondered how such a vivacious woman would have chosen to hook up with such a dull guy, but of course, that was none of my business. They also had two pre-teen children by then we met up.

However, I had heard through the grapevine that Glenda had possibly had an affair or two with others, which I took with a pinch of salt — and perhaps with a degree of envy; to me Glenda was a friend, colleague and a pretty, sexy woman that I admired but not desired by way of a conquest; it frankly didn’t cross my mind — but that was to change.

So, life went on until someone up high decided to promote me to marketing manager to become Glenda’s equal but she was to take over the other portfolio of brands within the company and I would take over her portfolio, requiring a fairly comprehensive handover of information between the two of us. This we started almost immediately the new positions were announced and we spent many hours at work doing just that, with Glenda briefing me on my newly acquired additional responsibilities. We were all but done through the process but for our last handover session, Glenda said that she felt the weather was so nice and the office too claustrophobic, so shouldn’t we go find an alternative venue?

In the interim, my wife and I had separated and I was living in our house on my own. So I said let’s go to my place; where I knew it would be quiet and we could concentrate and Glenda responded that she felt that was a great idea. We jumped into our cars and drove the 15 km konak escort or so from the Durban CBD to my place in the leafy suburbs and arrived at my place where we were alone, other than for the presence of my domestic maid, doing her thing around the house.

Glenda that day was wearing a denim not-quite mini skirt and a chopped off white buttoned T shirt material top, that was fighting to hold in her voluptuous breasts, through which that now famous variant of lacy bra was indelibly impressed; and was wearing what we in South Africa call takkies, but sport shoes/gym shoes/pumps to everyone else.

We sat outside next to my pool, around a table under a sun umbrella as we talked; or Glenda talked as I took notes and asked questions. We worked hard for a good couple of hours and made considerable progress.

Mid afternoon, my maid advised that she would be leaving now and indeed she did so — and then something changed. Now it was just the two of us — away from the shade of the large patio umbrella, it was damn hot. Glenda got up from the table and expressed just how hot it was, as she took off her shoes and stepped into the water of the pool onto the first step and sat on the pool surround and undid a button of her top in my full sight. She stayed like that for a few minutes as we continued talking and then she got out of the pool and walked up a few stairs to a small landing which was elevated outside my bedroom door and sat down with her tanned legs dangling over the brickwork and deliberately shifted her angle, so she was directly opposite me, sitting at the patio table.

She then gradually opened her legs — not porn star style — not obviously – but enough such that the white cotton panties she was wearing on that lovely day became plain to see — this was not a “wardrobe malfunction” as they call it these days; I realise now, this was a play.

And what a wonderful sight; two slightly parted thighs revealing white cotton panties with matching white looped edge trim and with seemingly no desire to end the spectacle for me.

Now, this is where I have to say that I blew it — in fact I didn’t even know I’d blown it until I came to analyse the opportunity placed in front of me, a day or so later. To anyone with half a brain, with an empty house, separated from my wife, with a gorgeous lady flashing her panties at me, the obvious conclusion is that this was a done deal and I should have taken her to the bedroom. But I blew it!

Somehow I couldn’t compute that this was an invitation and I saw this as just a fortuitous voyeuristic moment. So I did nothing and Glenda quickly realised that I hadn’t responded to her proposal and maybe thought I didn’t want to as, after a couple of minutes, her legs closed and she advised she thought we were done and should make our way back to the office. However, there was no sign that she felt she’d been turned down; everything continued all chatty, friendly and convivial.

As I say, it was that evening or shortly thereafter, that I realised what I had gone and done and what had been on offer and what I had effectively declined — how I kicked and berated myself for my naivety and stupidity — but the moment was gone and passed — but now of course, I realised what might be attainable another time and became determined to not let another opportunity or offer go unanswered — it wasn’t to be long.

That handover get-together was in November — the company Christmas party was scheduled for early December. It was held on a balmy evening in a location on the edge of the ocean — the setting and the weather were just perfect. As senior management in the company, Glenda and I were designated to help set the evening up for the several hundred staff members. The evening was going brilliantly and about halfway though, I found myself at the bar with Glenda approaching me wearing skin tight denims and a virgin white T shirt. After a drink together, abundantly aware of my previous stupidity, I suggested that Glenda and I take a walk together on the beach — which she accepted without hesitation.

A couple of hundred metres from the venue we found ourselves holding hands; kicking off the flip-flops we were both wearing and getting our feet wet together as we strolled at the edge of the incoming waves. We walked on further until we reached some sand dunes that were well hidden from anyone. On impulse, I pulled Glenda to me and kissed her. She responded with total commitment — the delicious thing was that her kissing was wonderfully wet and sloppy and entered into with absolutely no reservation. She was a fabulous kisser — her mouth and tongue were wet and warm and she devoured my face and tongue — as did I hers. We retreated a few metres into the sand dunes.

This was no exploratory interaction; we both knew exactly what was going to happen next.

I kissed her lips, face and neck like it was the last time I would ever kiss a woman again. My hands started to explore her exquisite body. The normality of kiss face; fondle kuşadası escort boobs, hands to pussy; in that order – became simultaneous. I kissed her; had one hand up her T shirt and the other fondling her crotch through her jeans.

We came up for breath and Glenda sat up and crossed her arms and took her T shirt off over her head; without hesitation she reached behind her and unclipped her bra and literally threw it away into the sand dunes and lay back to be adored.

This was obviously the first time I had seen her breasts for real. Massive and with enormous areolas — bigger than I’ve ever seen or experienced before. Her boob flesh wasn’t firm nor floppy — just delightful; like play dough to be kneaded through my hands. Her nipples were small like half Smarties but rock hard and my mouth devoured them; licking and sucking, moving from one to the other. Glenda was lying back and seemed to be in another world, as she closed her eyes and smiled as I caressed her.

My hands moved to Glenda’s jeans and I undid the metal button and slowly pulled down the zip. I moved onto my knees and positioned myself at her feet. My hands held either side of her jeans as I pulled them downwards to get her jeans over those magnificent hips whilst also making sure that her panties didn’t get taken off at the same time. I was successful in getting her jeans past her hips and then took the ends of each leg and pulled her jeans downwards until they were finally off and they went the same way as Glenda’s T shirt and bra – off into the dunes.

Now I was truly able to take in the magnificence of my prize. There she lay in front of me; beautifully naked apart from a delightfully cute pair of bikini style fullback panties that were pale blue in colour, matching her eyes; and were made even cuter by the contrasting white looped edging around the legs and waist.

These were the early 80s and women invariably wore fullback bikini style panties. Thongs and tangas were styles that only strippers wore and simply weren’t commonplace then. These were the style of panties that I had grown up with and became a comprehensive fetish for me. In my early teen years, I would masturbate with panties “borrowed” from my sister, who was a couple of years older than me.

Over time, I developed favourites in terms of colours and patterns that seemed to make me harder when worn by the girl I was with. In the UK where I was then, most girls and women bought their (what were usually referred to as) “knickers” from the high street retail store called Marks in multi packs of 5 of varying colours and designs. My favourites were always brightly coloured patterned designs, with hearts or flowers or geometric designs but importantly (for me anyway) ideally always having contrasting coloured, delicately-looped edging around the legs and waist.

Panties for me are the equivalent of the icing and the decoration of a cake; everyone likes cake but it’s how it’s displayed that makes the difference. It’s the gift wrapping concealing any present — the prettier and more appealing is the gift wrapping, the more one desires to ultimately discover what it tantalisingly hides. Most straight men love pussy, it’s what they’re ultimately after; but the icing or the gift wrap by way of the panties a woman wears, so enhances what will eventually be revealed.

Knickers” is such a strange word that is almost exclusively a British term. I much prefer the term “panties“; just the sound of the word is a stimulant for me. For some reason, many American and British woman hate the word panties; they find it childish and Infantilizing. Fortunately for me, in South Africa, women happily refer to their underwear as panties and so the word is heard often and when uttered by a woman, it’s quite a turn on for me.

I was never tempted to wear women’s panties myself — as some men do; just to be in possession of them or later on in my sexual journey, to be with a female wearing them, was enough for me and when engaging in sexual activity with a partner, I would never remove her panties; indeed if she went to take them off as things progressed, my request of … “No, please leave them on — you look so sexy wearing those” was often used and almost invariably complied with, I’m very thankful to say.

So back to the balmy evening with Glenda in the dunes. I leant forward to place my face on her panties; as I lowered my body, Glenda parted her legs allowing me free access. I nuzzled my nose and lips against her crotch and she softly moaned. The first thing I discovered was that she was no doubt hairy under her panties; I could feel the soft give of her pubic hair. The second thing I became aware of was the delicious aroma coming from her. It wasn’t strong, it was like an intoxicating perfume that could never be artificially manufactured and became a massive stimulant for me.

I continued to caress her pussy though her panties with my nose, tongue and lips and then foça escort with my left hand, I slipped a couple of fingers under the edge of her panties and slowly but deliberately pulled them to the left side of her crotch and in so doing, revealed one of the most breathtakingly pretty pussies I have ever seen. It was big; with a luscious pair of fabulously formed lips protruding and her swollen clitoris was clearly visible. I ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit very slowly up to her clit. She was wet beyond belief and she again moaned softly. My tongue continued to pay all over her lips and back to her clitoris; the taste and the aroma was beyond compare. As I continued, her moaning intensified until all of a sudden, she climaxed with an intensity that saw her clamping my head between her gorgeous thighs, as her hands come to the back of my head, forcing my face deep into her pussy, accompanied by a scream that indicated her pleasure — this was a woman who really enjoyed sex!

I lay where I was, enjoying the closeness of my face to her pussy and her panties, as she recovered. I then stood up and took off my jeans and boxers whilst she watched. My cock was rock hard as she reached for me, as I went back down onto my knees between her legs. Her hand wrapped around my cock and she gently pulled me towards her. Her panties were still hooked to the side of her vagina and her luscious wet lips parted as she guided my cock inside her. It was the most wonderful feeling, not tight but all enveloping. I began to stroke my cock backwards and forward inside her pulsating cunt. It was pure bliss for me, as Glenda drew her legs up and wider to allow me deeper penetration. And in that way, I continued to fuck her until the beginnings of my orgasm began to take control and as my pace quickened, I erupted inside her.

We lay there panting until I slowly withdrew from her and as if to say thank you, I gently kissed her pussy lips and pulled her panties back across, hiding her pussy once again.

We dressed and held hands as we walked back along the beach to the party and we quickly kissed each other on the mouth whilst we still couldn’t be seen by the revellers and then re-joined the party.

That was to be the first of what turned out to be a number of love-making sessions when circumstances permitted; all of which were delightful but two particular sessions we enjoyed together are worthy of recounting.

A couple of months later, we were both attending a company conference at a big hotel resort. There was a big function that evening and Glenda and I found ourselves sitting next to each other at a 12 seater round table with other colleagues. The food was good, the wine flowed and the speeches and entertainment were a lot of fun. As the evening was drawing to a close, Glenda leaned over and whispered in my ear “I think I’m done for the evening — I’m in 705 if you want to drop by …” and without waiting for an answer, she wished everyone else at the table a good night and took her leave.

I gave it about 10 minutes more and then I announced to my colleagues that I was likewise going to call it a day. I took the lift to the seventh floor and quickly found 705. I knocked on the door lightly and a few seconds later, Glenda opened the door and let me in. She was wearing one of the hotel’s full length white towelling robes and looked gorgeous. She clearly knew exactly what she had in mind for this encounter as, after closing and locking the door, she took a couple of steps away from me and holding her gaze with mine, with those beautiful blue eyes of hers, she opened her robe, lifted it up over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

She was wearing beautiful underwear. She had a brilliant white slightly see-through lacy bra holding in those magnificent breasts of hers, such that I could just make out the edge of her aeriolies though the material and the very slight bumps where her nipples were. Her panties were bikini style fullback cotton in bright yellow, with white looped edging — she looked fabulous!

She continued to allow me to gaze on her body; we hadn’t even kissed yet and then she slowly reached behind her back and released her bra fastening and then proceed to take off her bra almost stripper-style; cupping her breast in her hands until she finally removed the bra and stood there in just her panties, holding her bra out at arm’s length to her right, before dropping it to the floor seductively. Then she winked at me and motioned with her finger for me to come to her and we locked into a passionate kiss.

We kissed long, deep and hard whilst my hands roamed eagerly over her bare breasts and her pantied bum cheeks and crotch; and hers were likewise cupping and fondling by balls and cock. After a couple of minutes, Glenda released her grip on me and took my hand and led me a large couch in her room and invited me to sit at one end of it. I did so and she then sensually knelt in front of me with her beautiful ample breasts swaying invitingly in front of me. Almost ritualistically, she removed my shoes and sock; undid all my shirt buttons and then unbuttoned my trousers and motioned for me to lift my backside, as she gently pulled my trousers down and off, followed by my boxers; leaving me naked other than my unbuttoned shirt, with my cock standing to attention, as I sat there on the couch mesmerised by what might come next.

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