The Price of Silence

It was April’s underwear drawer. I rifled through her collection of lace bras, the cups so large they looked like hats, and then moved over to her panties. As I rummaged through her pile of panties I quickly discovered that April was a thong girl. It was literally all she owned. I pulled out a tiny white lace thong and thought that Jim and Tom were lucky bastards. I listened quietly for a moment and, satisfied no one entered the house, I pulled off my board shorts and wrapped her panties around my stiff shaft. I drooled some spit onto it and started stroking, her thong firmly held between my hand and throbbing dick. Years of watching porn had me picturing a scenario where I blew my load all over her thong and placed it back in her drawer a cummy mess. Of course, she would find her thong while they’re still soaked with cum, would figure it was my gift to her, and she’d rush over to fuck my brains out.

The reality was quite a bit different. I was jerking quickly, knowing I needed to cum before anyone noticed how long I was gone. I was right on the edge of shooting my load when a voice snapped me out of the moment.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” I turned around, absolutely pale, and stared at Tom. I stood there like a deer in headlights, my hand still holding her thong around my cock. He looked down at my dick, and her thong, and closed the door behind him.

I was scared shitless.