I was frozen to the spot, my mouth open but I couldn’t come up with an explanation. I was completely lost for words.
“Don’t tell me they’re yours,” he said, the grin even more menacing.
God, the sheer humiliation was overwhelming and my fucking cock started to twitch violently. I could feel the flimsy material of my shorts bouncing. I wished the ground would open up. Maybe I’d wake up from this nightmare.
Time seemed to slow down. I should just turn and walk away. Yes, that’s what I should do, but no, I just stood there, cock twitching and red faced.
“I always thought there was summat queer about you,” he mocked. “You a gay boy then?”
What? Who the fuck did he think he was? Did he think his age gave him licence to speak to me like that? But humiliation was the only thing I could feel. My cock was leaking as well. I was paralysed. Physically scared to look down, lest he saw the inevitable damp patch. I shook my head.
“If you ain’t gay, what are ya then?” His eyes drifted down to my crotch. My erection had a mind of its own and I felt a large splurge of precum spill from the tip. Why did I pick white shorts! I felt sick. Unable to swallow.
“I……I……” was all I could stammer.
“Come ‘ere,” he said. I walked the few steps, until he reached over the fence and took the panties from my hands. Holding them up he smiled again.
“They had sissy boys like you when I was in the navy,” the smirked. “Lot of sailors get pent up when you’re at sea for months on end.” Looking down at my shorts again. “You a sissy boy then?”
My brain had completely stopped functioning.
“Wha……what do you mean?” I spluttered.
“A fuckin’ sissy boy,” he hissed. “You like dressin’ up like a fuckin’ girl for men.”
Another squirt of precum leaked out as my cock continued its uncontrollable jerking.
“Should’ve guessed,” he sneered. “Don’t think I ain’t seen you getting picked up and dropped off by that fuckin’ queer,” he carried on. “And that geezer you fucking work for. I’ve seen you in ‘is car. I ain’t fucking stupid. You dressin’ up for them? Does Jackie know?”
I shook my head. How could this be happening? A ringing noise filled my head.
“No, I bet she don’t,” he said handing the panties back to me. He turned away muttering to himself and shuffled off to his greenhouse.
For a few moments I just stood there trying to move, then I looked towards their kitchen window and saw Mrs Davidson doing some washing up. I turned and ran back inside. I needed to catch my breath. My whole world was caving in. What was he going to do? Had Mrs Davidson seen or heard? Would he say anything to my mother? How many times had he seen me with Phillip or coach?
I stood there for god knows how long, vainly trying to process what had happened. I wanted to run and hide from everything. Instead I put the lingerie on the kitchen table, dropped my shorts to my ankles and masturbated right there in the middle if the kitchen. 30 seconds later I sprayed a torrent of cum over the tiled floor. The release was almost painful. I felt dizzy when I finished. I moved to the kitchen sink, my shorts still around my ankles. I needed to splash my face with cold water. At the same moment I saw Mrs Davidson’s face peering through the window.
SHIT!
I was on the verge of fainting. My knees buckled and my body went cold. Could it get any fucking worse!
Could my life get any fucking worse than it was right now!!
Before I could truly comprehend my situation, she walked into the kitchen. Jesus Christ, my cock was still leaking cum! I broke down. Falling to my knees I broke down and cried like a baby, struggling to gulp air as I sobbed. I kept apologising. I’d never felt such shame.
I expected her to be upset. To shout at me. To tell me how disgusting I was, but she stepped forward, took my hands to help me stand up. Then without saying a word, she bent down to pull my shorts up and guided me to one of dining chairs to sit down.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said calmly as she went to the sink and gathered a bowl, cloth and floor cleaner from cupboard underneath. “You just sit there and pull yourself together.”
She filled the bowl with water, then I watched as my elderly neighbour got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess I’d made. As she went about the task, my sobs turned to sniffles and then stopped completely.
She finished up, put the bowl and floor cleaner back in the cupboard and after draping the cloth over the edge of the sink, came over to me.
She was a small woman, around 5’4″ tall. I guessed in her younger days she would have been quite slim, but now she carried a little extra weight. Her blue rinse giving no indication of what her natural hair colour once was. She was wearing a pale blue blouse, flower patterned skirt that reached to mid calf and a red flower patterned apron tied tightly around her waist. I assumed the slightly shiny, tan coloured hose on her legs to be tights, just a little bit wrinkled at the ankles. The black slippers had a cuff of white fleece.
I distinctly remember the tights and slippers, the tights in particular. I remember the sheen and the way they gathered at her ankles.
I apologised again, starting to feel pretty pathetic. She waved her hand, dismissing it.
“When you’ve been around as long as I have there isn’t much that shocks you,” she said smiling kindly. “Don’t you worry about Alfie either. He won’t say anything to Jackie and if he upsets you anymore, you just come and tell me. I’ll sort him out. He knows which side his bread’s buttered,” she added with a a wink.
The relief of knowing my mother wouldn’t find out was everything I needed to hear and I thanked her.
“And the ‘other thing’ I saw,” she said. “I won’t say anything to Alfie. It’ll be our little secret.”
After she’d left I sat on the chair for a while. My emotions were all over the place. Eventually I picked up the lingerie and took it upstairs to hide it, then flopped onto my bed. How I would react when I next saw them was anyone’s guess. Whatever the case, I felt confident Mrs Davidson would keep her word.
Throughout the rest of the day my mind would torture me with reminders of what had happened. The intense shame of Mr Davidson holding the panties up and asking me if I was a sissy. The humiliation of knowing he could see my erection. However, that was nothing compared to how I’d felt when I saw Mrs Davidson at the window, or pulling my shorts up, or watching her clean my cum from the floor.
The reality of that hit me hard. How had she kept so calm? What did she think of me? What was she thinking when she saw me masturbate and climax? Disgust? Revulsion? It didn’t feel like that. She’d taken it in her stride. It left me with with more questions than answers.
When my mother got home from work I was already about to leave for the my shift. We didn’t have much time to talk, but she made a point of telling me not to stay late because she wanted to talk.
My evening at the shop was unusually normal. Nothing happened at all. In fact Phillip barely spoke and he didn’t spend much time downstairs. In many ways it was a relief. A welcome break from everything that had been happening.