‘Always wear pretty underwear, on account of you just never know.’
Jill Conner Browne, The Sweet Potato Queens’ Book of Love

I have a favourite pair of knickers. Purple, lacy French knickers from La Senza, bought longer ago than I care to admit with a matching bra that still makes my cleavage look amazing (even though it doesn’t fit)! I bought the set in a few different colours – orange, bright pink, white – but the purple was always my favourite.

Because they’re my favourite, I wear them a lot. I wear them when I want to feel pretty under my clothes; I wear them when I want to feel easily sexy; I wear them when I need a pick me up or artificial courage; I wear them to make a normal day feel special, when I want to feel special.

A colour photo of me wearing those purple lacy knickers with my right hand pushing inside the waistband

And like all special pants, they’ve been present at some special times…


I don’t know what to wear. No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve settled on a little black dress – fitted, simple, stylish – but I’m struggling with underwear choices. Do I just wear equally simple black knickers or something more? It’s only a first date, but who knows what a first date could mean? Realistically, I know it doesn’t matter. He won’t see them today, if at all, but as a good Cub Scout, I have been taught to always be prepared! You know, just in case…

So I choose my favourite purple lace. As soon as I put them on, I know they’re the right choice. The lace curves across my arse and makes me feel fabulous. Whether he sees them this time or not, the knowledge that I’d be looking good if he did gives me a boost and makes me walk taller.

I’m all set. First date? Bring it on!


Another time, another date; another chance to surround myself in that purple lace. This time my knickers are admired only as they are pulled roughly aside. Barely closing the door before his hands slide up my thighs, my knickers are already soaked in anticipation before I arrive and we fuck hard against the wall in the hallway. Later, they are discarded on his floor, the bright purple conspicuously visible against his white carpet when we head out for dinner.

Oh yes, even in their absence, these are special knickers…


He is barely contained within them. The lace has to stretch over his thick cock and it creates such a delicious outline that I barely stop myself from touching him. Running my finger along his length or delicately scratching my fingernail across the bumps in the lacy fabric, I know my touch could send a shiver through him. I hope it’ll make him even harder. I hope my touch will make his dick strain against the material confining him. I hope it’ll make him moan. But I don’t touch him, not yet. Instead, I reach down to zip up his trousers and hide my knickers under his clothes.

All day the thought of these ridiculous bright knickers hidden under his serious dark suit is almost too much to handle…

A photo of EA wearing my purple lacy knickers, the outline of his cock visible through the fabric


I reach for them from my knickers drawer without really thinking. It’s just a normal day, a nothing day. My purple knickers are clean and on the top of the pile, so I wear them.

It is only later that I remember what I am wearing and I drown in the flood of associated memories. Of sex and desire, of teasing and posing, and of feeling so fucking special…

A photo of my arse wearing purple lacy knickers

This post is inspired by the ‘knickers’ Kink of the Week prompt and also by Violet Fawkes’s new lingerie meme. Click the badges below to see the other delicious posts and photos inspired by these prompts…

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