Hope Presents: Hot, Sexy Men In Lingerie Fiction

Welcome back faithful readers, and eager newcomers, I have a bit of a treat for you all today. It comes in the form of the first part of a series of erotic stories featuring men who wear lingerie and the women who love them.

How many of you sneak off to work wearing a little lingerie, hoping it won't be noticed, or perhaps, hoping that it might be? That's what happens in this, a story of...

Corporate Lace

By Hope Alexander

Eric was running late again. The alarm clock had singularly failed to rouse him from sleep and when he finally stumbled out of his bed, he barely had time to gel his hair into submission, slip on the last ironed shirt from his closet, douse himself liberally in deodorant and slip a pair of his favorite nylon panties on.

Tight, but not too tight, he sighed as he snuggled them into place, relaxing a little as he always did when he felt the soft, smooth material caressing his nether regions. A matching bra quickly followed, then a shirt. He couldn't help but glance at himself in the mirror, admiring the way the thin nylon clung around his cheeks, and under his still open shirt, the bows and lace of the bra peeked out, the lace gently rubbing across his nipples. It was almost enough to distract him from going to work entirely, but the ticking clock made him regretfully button up his shirt, and hunt around for a pair of socks. Ordinarily he would have searched out some nice stockings, but today there was just no time.

Tugging on his work pants, and shoving a corner of toast into his mouth, he rushed out the door, stabbing his feet into his shoes on the way.

Today was a big day. Not only was the new manager arriving today, but his boss had kindly scheduled his presentation today as well. He frowned at his appearance in the rear view mirror as he waited in traffic, hoping that the 5 O'clock shadow around his jaw line would be interpreted as rakish and not slobbish. Fortunately for him, his deep blue eyes and strong features generally contrived to make him look good no matter what.

Traffic was, of course, slow, and he ground towards his office with the rest of the panicked 8.57 am rush, planning out the details of the presentation in his mind and hoping that the new manager was better than the last one.

Finally he pulled into his parking spot, grabbing his briefcase and heading up to the office. Glancing at his watch he despaired a little. 9.04. Late again. Cursing under his breath, he rushed out of the car park into the lobby. Lady Luck must have been smiling on him, the elevator was waiting at the bottom and he barreled into it, slamming the 'door close' button frenetically.

The door began to slide closed and he breathed a sigh of relief, until the toe of a pretty green stiletto crammed itself into the gap between the door and the frame and a delicate manicured hand forced the door back open.

A woman entered the elevator, fixing him with a withering look. “Chivalry is dead, is it?” She said in an accusatory tone.

“So sorry.” Eric apologized. “I really didn't see you there, I'm running late.” He explained.

She looked him up and down, seeming to find him inherently deficient. “I see. Maybe you should pay more attention.” She said, ending the conversation by turning her back on him and pressing the button for the 5th floor.

Eric spent the rest of the ride observing the shrew before him. She was tall for a woman, boasting a pleasantly curved figure and what would have been lovely dark curling hair were it not scraped back severely. If she were less aggressive and angry with him she would have been a good candidate for a date.

She got off at the 5th floor, her heels clipping efficiently over the floor. Eric slipped by her as she stopped at reception, heading for his cubicle. He could see through the fake palm fronds and blinds that tastefully adorned the conference room everyone was already assembled for the meeting. Groaning he grabbed the disk containing his presentation and headed towards his destiny.

To his immense relief everyone was still slurping coffee and bolting down the special chocolate muffins ordered for the big event when he arrived.

“Erwic.” His best office friend, Richard, a fellow with a Elmer Fudd voice and rotund belly greeted him. “Just in time. They're about to bring the new manager in. I hear she's a lady.”

Eric's stomach sank even before the door to the conference room opened again and their CEO ushered in the new manager, the woman with the pretty green shoes. He slumped down in his chair, trying to hide behind Richard and avoiding her gaze. Perhaps she wouldn't recognize him.

No such luck of course. The CEO waffled, and the new manager, a Miss Germaine Hallswell smiled brilliantly, and before Eric knew what was happening she was glancing down at the schedule.

“First order of business. Mr Dawkin's presentation.”

Eric stood up, tossing the disk for his presentation for Richard to load into the laptop, and walked to the front of the room.

“Welcome, Miss Hallswell.” He said with a smile, acknowledging her. She nodded back, the smile still on her face, but the look in her eyes less than friendly. The stakes on this presentation had just gotten a great deal higher.

He felt her eyes boring into him as he began speaking. Fortunately he knew the material inside and out and was able to confidently deliver the presentation without a hitch. Unnervingly her eyes never left him, they seemed to drift over his body slowly then return to his eyes.

His presentation over, his coworkers filed out to begin the real business of the day, checking their emails and breaking the office solitaire record. He began to follow suit, but was stopped by Germaine's hand on his arm.

“A minute of your time, Mr Dawkins.” She said.

“Sure.” Eric agreed.

She waited until the stragglers had collected themselves and left, then fixed him with a strange look.

“That was a good presentation.” She said.

“Thank you. I hope it was useful.” Eric said guardedly.

She smiled and walked around behind him, frowning in confusion, Eric followed her with his eyes until he could no more, then stifled a gasp as she took hold of the tag on his panties which was sticking out the top of his pants and tugged firmly.

“Interesting choice of attire, Mr Dawkins.” She said, a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she walked back around to face him.

He couldn't believe it. He had been wearing lingerie to the office for years, and never so much as a comment had resulted. This woman had walked in off the street and had already discovered his secret. She leaned back against the desk, smiling playfully and it was with relief that he realized this seemed not to be an automatic strike against him

“So are you a girly man then, Mr Dawkins?” She asked bluntly.

He frowned at her. “No. I am not.” He said, drawing himself up to his full height. He had at least a foot on her, and he was willing to bet that he weighed two of her. It was one thing to be lectured for forgetting to hold an elevator, but slurs on his masculinity were another matter all together.

She smirked. “A man wearing panties...” She let her voice trail off.

Eric's hands were on his hips now as the frown became a glower. “I assure you, Miss Hallswell, I am entirely male and entirely heterosexual.” He said, his voice a low growl. He moved a little closer to her, letting her feel his presence, strong and large.

It didn't bother her in the slightest. “Hm. I don't know. Perhaps I should make a note on your employee file.” She said, her tone light. Eric got the strong feeling that he was being messed with. The vixen was toying with him.

Now that she had shed her jacket, she was wearing what could be described as a corporate dress, severe and black, cut low enough to give those taller than her more than a hint of cleavage, not so low as to be mistaken for one of the naughty 'interns' upper management sometimes employed. Her eyes were a charming light caramel brown shade that matched the golden brown curls that were already working their way free of her chignon.

He placed a large hand on the table next to her, looming over her, his voice softer now.

“I would be more than happy to give you a demonstration, Miss Hallswell.”

There was a faint blush on her cheeks as she slid away from him and began picking at her dress, clearly flustered. Eric stood back up, arms folded across his chest, a broad smile on his face.

“You may go now. Mr Dawkins. I am sure you have much work to do.” She said, not looking at him.

“Oh, yes Ma'am.” Eric chuckled, picking up his disk and flashing her a smile as he turned to leave.

He may have won the battle, but the look she gave him under her eyelashes as he stepped out of the conference room was enough to guarantee that the war was not yet over, not by a longshot...

Okay, time for feedback. Did you like? Did you not like? Want more? Let me know....

Man Poses In Cheerleader Panties...

These girls catch a fellow wearing cheerleader panties, and he quite proudly poses for them to take pictures with their cellphone cameras... and why not?

She Caught Me In Panties

This is a letter from one of the regular readers of the blog who wanted to share his story with the readership. A big thanks goes out to him for sharing what was quite a personal moment in his life.



Well men, my biggest fear and greatest fantasy were realized over the weekend - she caught me. She caught me in panties. I suppose the only saving grace was that at least they weren't her panties.

You see, we'd just got to that stage in our relationship where you have to make that next step, but you don't want to rush things and move in. This girl is hot, and I don't want to lose her, so I gave her a key to my place. That was my first mistake.

My second was forgetting that she had the key. I had been working on Saturday morning, and I was unwinding in the afternoon with a few beers and, yeah, my favorite panties. I haven't got to the point where I wear them out much, but they're my naughty secret when I come home and relax.

So there I am, on the couch, drinking a beer and watching the game when all of a sudden there is an unearthly screeching sound. (I love you ladies, but that squealing screeching sound you make is enough to wake the dead.)

I shot up off the couch, thinking that someone had died or something, and she was standing there, keys in her hand, staring at my silky blue clad butt.

I was caught, and I knew it, so I figured I'd try to play it off casually. I said hi, walked over and gave her a kiss, and asked if she wanted a beer. I think she agreed out of shocked politeness. She's so sweet that way. It actually took her a few minutes and about half a bottle of beer to ask what I was doing.

I hate to say it, but I used a chick line, something along the lines of 'what? these old things?' Yeah, I know, lame, but it seemed to satisfy her. We watched the game, well, I watched the game, and she watched my crotch, at first with a stunned look, and then with a different agenda in mind. I think the turning point was when she reached out to touch them and commented on how lovely and smooth they felt...

Catching Him In Lingerie

By Mrs Jones

Not too long ago, I found my husband of five years wearing lingerie. Not just any lingerie either, my lingerie. I must admit, I probably should have realized earlier, after all, it wasn't me stretching out my panties. I just thought I had lost a little weight, and that perhaps my pretty lingerie didn't fit me anymore. It was always the pretty lingerie too. My red lace panties, my expensive baby blue silk thong with the pearl embroidery, even my Agent Provocateur camisole and panty set, they all seemed a great deal looser than they had done when I tried them on in the shop. Being a lady however, I was more than willing to accept the idea that I had simply lost weight.

He agreed too, in fact he would often compliment me on how slim I was getting. He was a very sneaky man, but in the end, he got caught out. I came upon him, hiding in the closet, dressed up to the nines in a pair of my best silk stockings, those red lace panties I was telling you about, and a little camisole I hadn't seen before. It seems that he'd been purchasing his own lingerie.

He stammered, and stuttered and blushed like a little boy when I caught him, I have to admit it was rather charming in a way, to see him looking so sweet and so guilty at the same time.

I questioned him, rather enjoying it, asking him how long he'd been wearing my lingerie and how long he'd been buying his own. He answered me, standing there in the closet, his hands clasped over the panties as if to hide them. Eventually I smiled, letting him know that he wasn't in trouble with me. There are worse things to find out about your husband, that's for sure.

I also found that I rather liked the demeanor he had in that lingerie. He was softer, more willing to listen, more willing and wanting to please too. I've had him do a great many things about the house since catching him in lingerie, including doing the vacuuming and cleaning. He sets about the tasks with much more vigor when he is dressed in lingerie.

I rather think I'll keep my man in panties...

The Day I Was Caught Wearing Panties - Part Two

By Mr Panty Love

Find Part One Here

I could have sighed with sheer relief, in fact, I am pretty sure that I did. Slipping into those panties was like running under a sprinkler on a hot day, or diving under a waterfall, or, well, you get the idea. There is just something about panties that feels so damn good. I really don't see why women get to have all the fun. It is pretty unfair when you think about it. Why shouldn't us chaps have a chance to be comfortable as well?

Well, it's a little more than comfort, of course. I guess most of the readers will know that already. Anyway, back to my story. I had just slipped into my favorite panties, and was so enjoying the feel of them that I decided to add a pair of stockings to the mix. I don't often wear stockings, and I wore them even less back then, so this was kind of a special treat.

I rolled them down to the toes, so as not to ladder them, sat down on the corner of the bed, and slowly unfurled them over my leg. There is something special about the way that stockings, especially silk stockings, feel going on. These were black ones, as I recall. They were those ones that come up to about mid thigh and hold themselves up. So there I was, sitting on the edge of the bed in my white business shirt, spiffy blue tie, red panties and black lace topped hold up stockings. It was a little hard not to giggle, but not out of amusement, more out of glee...