There is a place in my house that no visitor has yet seen. Right behind my wine cellar, there is a nice room for a hobby of mine. A wall holds a shelf full of mason jars that are sealed with rubber rings. Recently, I added a new couch and my former TV couch. It stores my collection of sweetest panties and under each glass is a note, reminding me the day and situation in which I had taken that slip. Nevertheless, I am able to remember many details when I open a jar and absorb the love scent.
I am a forty-year-old bachelor, who still has the joy flirting with beautiful women into a one-night stand, but also of depriving them of their panties. Sometimes against violent protest, but mostly with a cheeky nice smile.
I open the first glass from the top row and I fancy how I can still recognize the girl’s scent. It’s been a long time…
She was twenty, at least ten years younger than me, pretty and straw-blond. We sat two or three hours at the bar and danced in between. It was the first girl who already had really wet panties when I went grabbed her by the pussy on the park bench. I tucked her into the mood by enjoying her wonderful tits with my hands and. When I took her panties off, I stashed it right away into my pocket and leaned her over the bench, taking her from behind, with deep and strong thrusts.
After that first strike, she gave me some oral break to get me going again for a second round, with her fucking me over sitting on my lap, riding my cock for a sequence of juicy orgasms. After our fuck date, she demanded her panties back. As if a reflex, I sniffed her panties and was probably already addicted to it. I think she was even flattered that I didn’t give her back her panties because I was so pleasantly obsessed with her scent. At home I came up with the idea to put the good piece into a glass that I could close with a rubber ring and a fixed clip. Often, have I sniffed it and masturbated on her reminiscent perfume… For me, the intensity of the fragrance has not decreased. Maybe there is nothing left today, but my imagination makes it seem real enough to me…
The second panty with a heady bouquet was from my neighbour five years older. Because we grew up together, I always wanted anything intimate about her.
One day, while at her place, I went straight to her bathroom when she put her used underwear in the laundry bag. I pressed my nose into her panties and was thrilled. I couldn´t help myself and I had to jerk off right away.
In my mind I reach for the glass with the slip from my neighbour I have to smile, that just made me so often incited to masturbation. Who knows, maybe it was always a subliminal yearning to own this magnificent body once, to fuck my neighbour once. It had always remained a secret desire.
Of course, my collection got me in the mood once again. Leisurely, I get out of my things and make myself comfortable on the couch. I have chosen a very special glass. I’m not opening it yet. The very sight of the black lace string gets my pole into a perfect uprising.
It was from a fraternity girl at my friends’ house, whose laundry hung on the drying loft. Fleetingly, I sniffed at the row of profane white panties. Of course, they all smelled like softener. Then the situation spiced up because she caught me sniffing her panties. We started off embarrassed and then joked us into her bed for a memorable fuck.
She told me straight up, smiling: “You are simply a fetishist.” I must have done her pretty well because I was offered a token to remember her. She took one of her black G-string panties from the drawer, put it on just to rub her soaking wet pussy on it. I was astounded and arose as she took her panties off, holding the string with her teeth and kissing me goodbye, offering me her scent for life…and I still don’t know her name after all these years.
**This text does not reflect, necessarily, ApartadoX opinion.
