We’ve been chatting for a month but haven’t met yet because both of us have holidays. It’s frustrating but we keep up the momentum. He’s from a site let’s call young men depot.

My expectations are ground level, possibly basement. I’m enjoying the lazy summer flirtation very much and keep checking back on his photos.

He’s shy of ten years my junior but there is a swagger and a glint in his eye. Sure, he sends me some torso pics and we exchange fruitier ones but still 18 rated. Through our infrequent then frequent WhatsApp’s we discover some very similar kinks and desires. He has a calm, assured energy which shows promise.

We engage in some verbal only virtual wanking but I learn he’s much better at edging than me.

---

When we finally do meet I am so nervous with excitement and anxiety that I can’t really believe he’s going to show up.

He arrives first and asks what I want to drink, a good sign. He’s travelled right across town for a slice of me and I’ve dressed up for a balmy riverside summer evening. My heels break on the way there and it tries to rain but here we are. I don’t need sunglasses because there is now no sun. I try his on anyway, he tells me they don’t suit me. Ha.

He’s exactly like his photos: the tousled hair and grin are what I notice first. And then realise we are almost dressed the same? I have a tie-dye blue and white vest-dress – his shorts are the same.

We match.

I try and “cheers” him and spill most of his pint. I grab him way too much. I feel awkward and out of practice but the chat isn’t. He tells me I’m funny. We are too far apart and opposite each other to enact any of the scenarios we’d fantasised about.

I ask him what he wants to do and next thing we are on the back seat of the bus. We fumble with each other a little but it’s a short journey and we are soon hopping off.

Downstairs he kisses me softly, his lips are soft, gentle and hungry. There is no urgency to his movement, and I suspect this will not be a quickie. I ease into his body and my hands start to explore. I take him upstairs.

——

I am trying to undo his shorts, struggling with the stud at the top.

Underneath, a pair of dark blue lace knickers.

This is the first time he’s worn them outside to meet someone – a landmark. He’s already conscious if anyone can see them from the back and has experienced the classic ride-up, but this is par for the course. Now he knows.

He’d already sent me the photos but having them in 3D, in front of me is something incredibly special.

I go down on my knees and sink my face into them, softly licking the lace and feeling him grow inside them. They smell new, straight out of the packet. I’m the first to play with them! The shape perfectly outlines his semi-hard cock and I admire how the fabric holds him and accentuates him all at the same time.

Long-time readers will remember the previous adventures with men in underwear, how lucky to have found someone with the same penchant.

He is undressed quicker than me, I’m sitting on the floor and he is pulling down my knickers. He bends down to taste me, his tongue flirting with my clit. I wrestle with my bra and lie back. He pulls me up and to struggle to balance.

On the bed he worships me. I grab his ass and feel it over and under the lace.

Delicious.