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Finally, Saturday morning, just after breakfast when the building was quiet, I snuck over. I began by stripping clothes off, folding them on the bed, and carefully selecting a pair of spandex panties from the laundry basket.
They were teal, with a sheerness that looked great over my swollen dick.
It was like a junkie going to work every day in a Drug Store. Jesse's neighbor on the other side had left last night for a ski trip. The anticipation was killing me, I could barely breath.To my amazement there were two pairs of false breasts inside, wrapped in tissue paper. I was going to stuff a sock into the bra and pretend I had tits, but these... I looked at the tissue paper - it was crumpled, pushed aside in a telling way. Moments later I was wearing Jesse's bra, with Jesse's tits slid up against my skin. Not bad, not bad, and after I pulled on a pair of incredibly tight pantyhose ('shapers' it said in the label) I started to really feel the drive. It is like that moment before sex with your girlfriend, all the impulses in your body are firing for one reason. And the way the pantyhose fit, high on my waist, they pinched me in enough to have a faint curve at my hips. I brushed my hand along a row of dresses: Spangled cocktail dresses, thick fur collared gowns, even sheer slip dresses. My heart quickened - I had not noticed these before - was it? The kind that women wore to work - the kind that had first seduced me. That had added to my downfall, the inevitable breakup, in my last two relationships. Now here I was pawing her sweaters, dressed in her underthings, her (! I found it in the third plastic bin, a beautiful white mohair sweater, with some nylon or acrylic - it was sheer except for the thick neck, somewhere between a turtleneck and a cowl - and the cuffs and hem, those too bunched up in thick knit splendor, the waist nipping in, the cuffs edging out to my knuckles.Too much attention paid to your fetish, not enough to the girl in front of you. I put it on, and had to run and look at myself in the mirror. It was on the floor, in front of a big black chest, the kind that holds photography equipment.Maybe it was because she was an attractive woman, tall, with long long legs and an impressive figure.She walked in a funny sort of way, always on heels, and her ass stuck out enough to make men stare. The old biddies in the laundry room downstairs would become physically upset when she entered, but I couldn't tell if it was her or the lacey underthings she came to wash. I had watched her apartment once before, watering her plants.