My Mature Neighbor Left Me Her Panties as Punishment

—Bruno, go downstairs to the neighbor’s for a moment, please. She has to go out and doesn’t want to leave the child alone while he sleeps —my mother shouted from the kitchen.

I dropped the controller angrily. I was about to finish a game, and I knew that tone: it wasn’t a request, it was an order. If I protested, arguing would cost me more than going down to the apartment below for a while.

I grabbed a notebook to pretend I was being responsible and went out. On the landing, I told myself there would at least be a reward: seeing her before she left, exchanging a few words, breathing in that perfume that always left me dazed. The neighbor’s name was Clara, a woman in her early thirties, married, with a young son and a way of walking that had been driving me crazy for months.

I was already an adult, even though I felt clumsy in her presence. She treated me with a mixture of familiarity and sweetness that turned me on more than it should have. Every brush against my arm, every quick smile, every kiss on the cheek when she returned stayed burned into my mind for days.

She opened the door wearing a pale blouse and tight-fitting pants that outlined her ass indecently. She wasn’t provocative in any obvious sense, but that was exactly what disturbed me most. She looked elegant, calm, completely in control of herself.

—Thanks for coming down so quickly —she said—. The child is asleep. You just have to keep an eye on him in case he wakes up. I won’t be long.

She leaned over the crib to adjust the blanket, and I couldn’t help watching the fabric of her pants tighten over her buttocks. When she straightened up, she caught me looking at her. She said nothing, but held my gaze for a second longer than normal.

—Make yourself comfortable. You can study in the living room —she added with a half smile.

When she left, the apartment’s silence fell over me all at once. I tried to sit with the notebook open, but I didn’t last even ten minutes. My thoughts were nowhere but on her: on her hips, her perfume, the way she had caught me watching her without looking away.

I checked that the child was still asleep and began wandering around the apartment. At first it was simple curiosity, the kind of impulse you try to justify while you’re already crossing the line. I passed through the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, absorbing every trace of her like a starving idiot.

In the bedroom, I saw that the wardrobe was ajar. Dresses, blouses, jackets hung inside, all permeated with that clean, feminine scent that drove me crazy. I opened a drawer and found underwear neatly folded: bras, thongs, lace panties, soft garments beneath my fingers and dangerous inside my head.

I stood still for a second, feeling guilty. Then I took a black pair of panties and brought them to my face. They smelled of detergent, perfume, and something more intimate that I wanted to imagine. Just that was enough to feel my cock hardening inside my pants.

I put them back where they had been. I closed the drawer. I took two steps toward the door. Then I went back.

This time I opened it without pretending to have any dignity. I went through them one by one, touching them slowly, imagining her pussy inside each piece of fabric, her tits filling the bras. I pulled out my cock and began masturbating in front of the open drawer, my breathing already ragged, feeling like a pervert and enjoying it.

But that wasn’t enough. I wanted something used. Something that had really been pressed against her body.

I went to the bathroom and found the laundry hamper. On top of some towels was a pair of panties scrunched into a ball. I picked them up and then, yes—the smell was stronger, denser, unmistakably hers. A moan escaped me. There was even a small dried trace in the crotch of the fabric, and that completely undid me.

I leaned against the sink, my cock out, hard and hot, and buried my face in the garment. I smelled it again and again while jerking myself hard. Then I began rubbing the head of my cock against the center of the panties, dragging the damp fabric over the tip until my legs began to tremble.

—Fuck... Clara... —I murmured, completely lost.

I wrapped my cock in the panties and masturbated with them, using her own fabric as if she were jerking me off with it. The friction was brutal, wet, intimate in an obscene way. I came almost immediately. I came inside the garment, staining it as I let out my breath through my mouth and closed my eyes as if I were really fucking her.

When I finished, fear hit me again. I cleaned up as best I could, left everything almost where it had been, and returned to the living room with my face burning. A little while later she came back. She barely looked at me when she entered, and something in her expression made me think that nothing escaped her.

—Everything all right? —she asked.

—Yes... yes, everything’s quiet.

She came close enough for me to smell her again. She thanked me and held my gaze for a long, inquisitive moment. I went back downstairs convinced I had been an idiot and that I would never do anything like that again.

I didn’t last a week.

***

The second time she asked me for help, I went downstairs with my heart racing. She opened the door wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and her hair tied back, as if she didn’t care in the slightest how beautiful she looked. She explained the same thing as always and hurried off, but before closing the door she said:

—The bathroom’s a mess. Don’t be alarmed if you see clothes lying around.

It took me less than a minute to understand that the sentence wasn’t accidental.

I went straight to the bathroom. On top of the hamper, perfectly visible, was a pair of burgundy lace panties folded halfway, as if they had been placed there for anyone to see when they lifted the lid. My stomach lurched. It didn’t look like carelessness. It looked like an invitation.

I picked them up with trembling hands and brought them to my face. The smell was clear, intimate, unmistakable. My cock hardened instantly. I pulled it out without thinking and began masturbating faster than the time before, consumed by the thought that perhaps she knew, perhaps she wanted it, perhaps she was playing with me.

I came on the garment again, violently, leaving thick stains on the lace. Then I stared at it in silence, aroused and frightened at the same time. If this was a test, I had just fallen headfirst into it.

When I returned, Clara watched me even before setting down her purse. Then she went into the bathroom. I heard her lift the hamper lid, and my blood froze. She came back to the living room slowly. She didn’t look angry. That was worse.

—Bruno —she said calmly—. Come here for a moment.

I followed her to the bedroom. She closed the door. She stood with her back to me for a few seconds, folding a towel for no reason.

—I want you to answer me truthfully —she said at last—. Have you been touching my underwear every time you stay here?

My mouth went dry. I could have lied, but her tone left no room for it.

—Yes.

—And do you masturbate with it?

I swallowed.

—Yes.

She turned slowly. There was no surprise on her face, only a hard, almost cold calm that made me even hornier.

—So you’re not as innocent as you look.

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at the floor, ashamed and hard again just from hearing her say it. She came closer until she was less than a foot away.

—Look at me when I’m talking to you.

I obeyed immediately. She smiled faintly, as if that automatic submission confirmed something she had already suspected.

—I’ve seen you looking at me many times. I’ve also noticed how nervous you get when I touch you or pass close to you. And yes, I left those panties there on purpose. I wanted to see how far you would go.

My ears burned.

—I’m sorry...

—I didn’t ask you to apologize. I asked you for honesty.

Her hand lowered to the front of my pants and squeezed the bulge firmly. A gasp escaped me. Clara noticed everything: the hardness, the trembling, the desperation.

—So this gets you hard that easily —she murmured—. My used underwear. My smell. The risk of being caught. Very good.

She unbuttoned my pants and slipped her hand inside my underwear. The direct contact made me close my eyes.

—Don’t close them. I want to see your face.

She stroked my cock slowly, just enough to keep me on the edge. I was about to lose my mind. I had fantasized about her for months, but not with this brutal clarity, not with this dry authority that left me defenseless.

—Do you want to come? —she asked.

—Yes.

—I haven’t given you permission.

She withdrew her hand. The absence of contact hurt physically.

—Strip from the waist down.

I obeyed without arguing. She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs while watching me. I stood in front of her with my cock stiff, exposed like an idiot.

—Now tell me exactly what you do with my panties.

It was difficult, but I began. I told her that I smelled them, rubbed them over my cock, and came on them while thinking about her pussy. Every word embarrassed me and turned me on more. Clara listened without blinking.

—What a filthy boy —she said quietly—. And look at you; being humiliated for it turns you on.

I nodded, unable to deny it.

She stood and opened the underwear drawer. She took out a pale pair of panties and threw them in my face.

—Smell them.

I obeyed immediately, inhaling greedily.

—Masturbate, but slowly. I want to see how you do it when no one’s watching.

I began moving my hand over my cock, incredibly slowly, with the fabric pressed to my nose. She stood in front of me, watching, fully dressed, while I panted like an animal. The difference in our positions—her calm and in control; me naked, obedient, and aroused—made the head of my cock throb.

—Slower —she ordered.

Holding back was almost painful, but I followed her pace. Clara slid one finger over the fabric of her pants, between her thighs, and that tiny image brought me to the brink of orgasm.

—Don’t come —she said—. If you do it without permission, everything ends.

I bit my lip and pulled my hand away. She smiled. She enjoyed seeing me like this, dominated, hanging on every word she said.

—Kneel.

I did it at once. From down there, her figure seemed even more imposing. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head back slightly so I would look at her.

—You’re going to learn how to behave. If I let you play with my things, it will be when I want and how I want. Understood?

—Yes.

—Ma’am —she corrected.

—Yes, ma’am.

Her hand returned to my cock, this time with a firmness that tore a hoarse moan from me. She jerked me a little faster, for only a few seconds, then lightly slapped the head of my cock with the fabric of the panties.

—Look at you. All this over a little pussy scent.

—Yes, ma’am.

—You’re so easy.

She pulled out her tongue with two fingers. —Lick them.

I did it without thinking, sucking them slowly. She exhaled through her nose, satisfied, and finally unbuttoned her pants. She didn’t take them all the way off; she only lowered them, along with her underwear, to mid-thigh. Seeing her pussy up close, half-shaved, glistening, real, left me trembling.

—Come closer.

I went on all fours until I was between her legs. The smell was much stronger than it had been in any garment, wet and hot. My cock jumped.

—If you’re going to enjoy me, first show me that you know how to obey. Eat.

I didn’t wait. I spread her lips with my fingers and ran my tongue over her pussy from bottom to top. Clara let out a low moan and grabbed my hair more firmly. I licked slowly at first, savoring her, sliding my tongue between her folds, sucking her clitoris whenever she guided me with her hand.

—That’s it... there... don’t stop.

I heard her breathing grow heavier and heavier. She pressed my head against her sex, set the pace, used me in a way that drove me crazy. I was hard enough to hurt, my cock pounding against my stomach while I ate her like a desperate man.

—Put it in properly —she ordered.

I pushed my tongue in as far as I could, then added two fingers. She was truly wet, slippery, open for me. I slid them in and out slowly at first, then with more rhythm, while sucking her clitoris. Clara arched her back and cursed under her breath.

—Fuck, yes... like that, bastard... like that.

I felt her pussy contract around my fingers. She came with a muffled moan, holding my hair tightly as she soaked my mouth. I swallowed as much as I could, aroused by making her come and by remaining on my knees, obeying.

When she caught her breath, she lifted my face with her hand.

—Now you are going to fuck, but not because you want to. Because I allow it.

That sentence alone pulled a moan from me.

She took off her pants completely and reclined on the bed. She spread her legs without shame, dominant even like that.

—Put on a condom. In the bedside-table drawer.

I did so with clumsy hands. She watched me work as if my urgency amused her. When I was ready, she beckoned with two fingers.

—Come here. And don’t go in until I tell you.

I positioned myself between her legs, the tip of my cock brushing against her entrance. She was so wet that the simple contact made me gasp.

—Look at me —she said.

I held her gaze while the head of my cock barely slid over her pussy.

—Now fuck me.

I entered with a controlled but deep thrust, and we both let out our breath at the same time. Her pussy squeezed me, hot, wet, perfect. I stayed still for a second so I wouldn’t come right then.

—Don’t just stand there —she snapped—. Move.

I began fucking her with short, firm strokes, driving my cock in and pulling it almost all the way out before going back in. The bed creaked beneath us. She kept her legs open and one hand on the back of my neck, as if directing even the way I was supposed to use my body.

—Harder.

I obeyed. The thrusts became dry and noisy. Her pussy sounded wet every time I struck her. Clara moaned without restraint, her mouth open and her eyes fixed on me.

—That’s it. That’s how I wanted to see you. So needy you’re almost pathetic.

Her words pierced me as deeply as the sensation of being inside her. She gripped my jaw.

—Tell me what you’re doing.

—I’m fucking you, ma’am.

—Whom?

—You.

—Your mature neighbor who drives you crazy?

—Yes.

—The woman whose panties you used to jerk off with in secret?

—Yes, fuck.

She laughed with gentle cruelty and made me change positions. She put me on my back on the bed and climbed on top. Seeing her like that, riding me, her tits swaying beneath her half-open blouse and her pussy swallowing my cock all the way, almost made me lose control.

She planted her hands on my chest and began moving up and down at a precise rhythm, rubbing herself against me on every descent. I grabbed her hips, but she pushed my hands away.

—Don’t touch me. Just endure it.

She moved as if she knew exactly how to use me. She lowered herself slowly, squeezed me inside her, then rose only slightly before dropping harder again. Her moans grew higher. I was at the limit, watching her grow wetter and wetter around my cock.

—Don’t come —she said, breathing unevenly—. If you come before I do, I’ll leave you wanting it next time.

Next time.

That promise shot through me like an electric charge. I held back out of sheer fear of losing her. She brought one hand to her clitoris and began rubbing herself while riding me. The image was obscene: her pussy opening over me, her hand working where I couldn’t reach, her face undone with pleasure.

—Fuck... yes... there... don’t slow down —she ordered, even though she was the one setting the pace.

She came again with a broken moan, squeezing me inside her with intense spasms. I felt her pussy close and open around my cock, and I had to grit my teeth so I wouldn’t follow her.

Clara got off me and turned me over without much ceremony.

—On all fours over the edge.

I positioned myself as she instructed. She got behind me, guided my cock back to her entrance, and impaled herself on it in one motion. Then she began fucking herself against me, thrusting her ass backward with every stroke. I moaned with my face buried in the bedspread, feeling pleasure and obedience empty my head.

—Now give it to me hard —she said.

I took her hips and began thrusting for real. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room. She screamed without holding back, urging me on with filthy orders, demanding more depth, more rhythm, more force. My pelvis struck her ass again and again, and every impact brought me closer to the edge.

—I’m going to come —I warned in a broken voice.

—Not until I say so.

I slowed just enough to hold out. She turned around, grabbed my cock with her hand, and put it back inside her.

—Now. Come while you fuck me.

I thrust three or four more times, completely out of my mind, and came inside the condom with a moan that emptied me completely. Clara held me against her to the very end, taking every spasm, breathing hard. When I pulled out, my legs could barely support me.

She stood up naturally, cleaned herself, and began getting dressed while I remained naked, spent, and still processing what had just happened. That was part of the game too: she was already composed again; I was still under her spell.

—Listen carefully —she said, buttoning her pants—. You are not going to touch anything of mine without permission. If I want to give you a garment, I’ll leave one for you. If I want you to eat my pussy or fuck me, I’ll tell you. And if you act clever and do it on your own again, it’s over.

—Yes, ma’am.

She came closer, straightened my T-shirt as if nothing had happened, and kissed me on the cheek with absurd tenderness after everything we had done.

—Very good. Now go to the living room and behave. In ten minutes I’ll be just your neighbor again.

I looked at her, still panting.

—And when you ask me to come downstairs again...?

She smiled calmly, in complete possession of my anxiety.

—Then you’ll find out whether there’s a reward or punishment today.

I left the bedroom with my cock still sensitive and my head completely fucked. In the crib, the child was still asleep. In the hallway mirror, I saw my red face, my bright eyes, the expression of someone who had just discovered that his fantasy was much more dangerous—and much better—when a mature woman decided to take possession of it.

A few minutes later, Clara picked up her purse, thanked me for helping her, and opened the door with her flawless smile. No one would have imagined that behind that calm, friendly-neighbor demeanor, she had just brought me to my knees, made me eat her pussy, and fucked with my head long before she fucked my body.

And as I climbed the stairs back to my apartment, I understood that it wasn’t over. It had barely begun.