Panty Confessions

Foreplay: Anyone who has read my stories will know that there's usually a liberal helping of panty sniffing within. I suppose we all have our little vices. Here's a story totally devoted to my favourite pastime ;)

*****

They say confession is good for the soul. I've had a good life, and having two younger sisters around as I grew up I can't remember a time when a girl or woman hasn't been in the house for long. That was until I grew older. Sisters get boyfriends, go to work, even leave home. Ready-made fantasies were always there whenever I wanted them. Like most boys, I suppose my interest in females gradually increased with every birthday and, at times, it seemed the interest increased day by day.

I'm not going to deny there was temptation lurking within the laundry basket. Occasionally there would be mum's, Alison's and Brenda's panties right at the top of the basket and I didn't need to delve deep - the scent was there. Mingled in was an infusion of perfumes, body sprays and sweat, not forgetting eau-de-pussy. Combined, they provided a pleasing mix of pheromones, biological and artificial odours. I didn't understand why my favourite friend swelled in appreciation of those scents until much later, even though some of my friends at school were already into helping to sort the dirty laundry and were most enthusiastic about how delightfully scented the panties were. I suppose I was too shy or too cautious. I could never get it out of my head that they'd notice even if I picked just one pair up to my nose.

My parents tried their best to help pay for me to go to university but sacrifices had to be made. My application and thus my student loan were late being processed and by then all the best uni accommodation was taken. Due to pure luck (or bad luck for her) one of my friends told me that a girl he knew had to drop out from the same uni as me, because of an ongoing health problem that had flared up again.

She had reserved a room in a shared house with three other girls if I didn't mind taking her room. No problem there ... I'd lived with two girls and my mum and I was used to being outnumbered and out-argued. Girls seemed to always win.

Three weeks later mum drove me and my belongings the 80 or so miles to my new temporary home. I'd already had hugs and kisses from my sisters, and that just left a tearful mum to give me even more hugs and kisses before she left.

It turned out that the converted terraced house had small rooms and mine was an attic bedroom up two flights of stairs. Two of the girls had arrived but apart from saying "Hello", they just sat chatting in the kitchenette.

I guess the sparsely furnished room was OK considering the £70 a week rent. I stored as much stuff away that I could but it was much smaller than at home. Hungry, I left the house to find a takeaway and returned, eating it, to where my new house mates were.

As the days went on, a week or two into the autumn semester, I was getting used to having three friendly but untidy female house mates. Sue and Mandy were veggies - openly complaining about the lack of choice and the more expensive cost of eating only vegetarian meals, then one evening I suggested they buy the ingredients and I'd cook them a vegetarian curry.

"You can cook?" said Sue, eyes open wide at the thought a 'man' could cook.

"Sure," I said. "One of my sisters isn't a veggie but she thinks a vegetable curry is far healthier than a meat one."

"You just cook curries, or what?" chimed in Mandy, who possessed the best pair of legs I'd ever seen and wasn't shy of showing them. Why bother with a pair of jeans or (heaven help) a dress, when wearing just a sweater and panties around the house would do. 'Less washing,' she often remarked.

"Curries, pasta, pizzas, quiche, whatever," I replied. "Although I can't remember having made a vegetarian lasagne. But I could try," I added.

You could almost see saliva flowing and about to drool down their chins.

"Tonight?" they chorused together.

"Sure, like I say, you buy the stuff and I'll make a curry tonight."

I gave Mandy a list of what I'd need. She scooted up to her room to hastily put on a pair of distressed jeans and went off to the small local supermarket.

At home I'd had plenty of practice. I loved cooking and mum rarely bought readymade meals, except for occasional Chinese and Indian takeaways as a special treat. With help from both girls we did all the peeling, slicing and chopping and I got on with cooking the curry.

Zoe, the third girl in the house, was quite shy like I'd been the past. She'd often stay in her room except when we ate together, though she did help with chores. LOL! Chores meant things we HAD to do, like washing when we'd nothing clean left to wear and washing dishes when there wasn't a single plate, cup, dish or pan left to use.

"Wow, you're just FANTASTIC," said Zoe, in one of her more talkative moments. Four or five word sentences were the norm for her.

"That curry was amazing," the other two agreed, and all three in turn gave me a hug and kiss, totally devoid of any sexual intention, but in appreciation of my cooking skills.

From then on I cooked quite often. They bought the basics and I supplied the skills, often chipping in the cost of a bottle of cheap wine. I got used to the novelty of having three sometimes partly-clad young ladies around, except the times when I'd a long wait for the shower to be available, or indeed the bathroom. You didn't go in the bathroom when someone was in there - unless it was urgent, like badly needing to piss or throwing up after a night out - but if the young ladies wished to wander around in very little following a shower, then I had no objections.

Despite my initial reservations I began to ease off my cares. At home, mum would tell my sisters that it wasn't right to wander around semi-naked. Similarly she would tell me to wait for the bathroom becoming free.

I was never sure in that terraced house whether the girls were respecting my ability to cook, or whether they just couldn't care less. Intimate items of clothing seemed somehow to be always on the bathroom floor. Most students I guess, if not all, care little for organisation or tidiness, so perhaps it was all OK. Within a few days of the start of the semester I was already missing the scents of the laundry basket and, well, one morning I admit to succumbing to temptation.

It was just any day, any day at all ... except that my first lecture wasn't till 10.30. My flatmates were up early, showered, dressed and away. By the time I'd dragged myself out of bed it was gone 9.15. I'd got three quarters of an hour to shower, dress, eat and catch the bus. Easy.

The bathroom was its usual mess, empty shampoo bottles, suds drying on the glass shower panel, scum round the drain, skid marks (not mine!) in the pan and PANTIES on the floor. I could forgive the skid marks, they'd probably deny anyway but leaving panties on the floor, where I could easily see them ... that seemed like an invitation.

Trying to ignore them, I stepped into the shower and closed the still soapy panels. All through my shower I couldn't get the panties out of my mind. The thought of the gusset being pressed up against one of the girls pussies made me hard and I stayed that way until I was showered and dried. Cautiously I picked up the pair and inspected them. They were still damp, the girl obviously having worn them overnight. They weren't by any means expensive designer panties, but pink, cotton, patterned with small rose motifs and obviously well worn.

Judging by the size, I immediately ruled out Mandy who was always snacking and who often finished off any remaining food after dinner. Sue had a slim curvy body with an very rounded butt. I also knew that parents ran a business and were quite well off. That ruled out cheap panties, so by elimination it left Zoe.

The fabric of the panties was wearing thin, enough I supposed to easily expose a cameltoe. Completely without style they were obviously chain store and the gusset might, at one time, been white. It was now rucked up, with a light yellow stain fading into a creamy secretion. Just a hint of brown betrayed a wet fart or perhaps just the remnants of a wipe.

Unsure what I might smell I put the gusset to my nose. The yellow was mildly acid, obviously pee, the brown I didn't chance but the creamy part rapidly enlarged and hardened my cock. I needed to get moving, no time to dwell so I had to put the panties back exactly where they were left.

My mind wandered a lot during the lectures. I took notes, hoping they would jog my memory later. Even thinking about what I'd done caused me to firm up again. It was a guilty, though pleasing feeling and I could half-remember the smell itself. As the day went on the effect lessened. I just had to revisit the bathroom when I got back to the house and hope the panties hadn't been moved. Luckily I was first back and I now took in a deep breath, the scent infusing into my brain.

Quickly releasing my swollen cock I rapidly tugged with the gusset held to my nose by my left hand. It took only seconds for me to unload my frustrations into the toilet bowl. I was on a high and that, my readers, was the first time I'd wanked off to the intimate scent of a woman's panties.

--

"Hi Ryan," said Mandy, beaming a smile. I was cooking again. Mandy and I had a common interest in food - I cooked it, she ate it.

"Hi," I replied, more interested in not burning the stir fry.

"What's cooking?" she asked, standing behind me, tits pushing into my back. I tried to ignore the intrusion of my private space.

"Nothing special, just sweet and sour whatever-you-like." There was chicken cooking separately. Zoe liked chicken and the local shop often sold 1-day-past 'sell by' chicken real cheap. I owed Zoe.

"How long?" asked Mandy. "Can I get a shower first? I'm going out later."

"Ten, fifteen minutes," I answered. "It will keep."

"You're a darling," she said, her lips quickly planting a kiss on my neck. That, and her breasts pressing harder on my back, made me swell. This time I couldn't ignore the intrusion and I didn't want to.

I turned jokingly. "How do you expect me to cook when you do this?" I pointed.

Mandy darted a glance and raised her eyebrows. "Wow! OK, I'll leave you." She smiled, "You prefer cooking to that, eh?" she teased, and without another word she dashed upstairs.

Ten minutes later she was back downstairs wearing the thinnest of tee-shirts and a pair of panties, not for the first time. She smiled cheekily. "Sorry if this embarrasses you but I didn't want the food to spoil. I wouldn't want you being distracted, would I?" Her gaze left me on no doubt what my distraction could be. That just made it worse.

"I'm fine if you are," I smiled back, "As long as you don't mind admiring looks from me."

She smiled again, a broad lips-open smile. This was either a tease or a way of thanking me for the meal I'd prepared. Although we all had our own personal food in the fridge, the ingredients came from pooled money and home-cooked food was much cheaper than takeaways.

Although a little overweight from her love of food, Mandy was still shapely. I've already mentioned her legs, which were well toned. Above that was a tight butt, usually squeezed into shrink-to-fit jeans which were one size smaller than her. Her waist wasn't by any means slim, but acceptable and her tits were, I'd say, an ample handful but not much more. They were shapely and, judging by their pressure on my back, they were very firm. Add to that a round, usually smiling face and medium brown curly hair and you had a beautiful young lady. Whether from the shower and then cooler air, or by the fact that I'd given her some attention, her generous nipples now poked out proud. We chatted as we ate.

"I'd better get ready," she muttered to herself, then "That was real tasty. You should train to be a chef." She walked round the table and kissed me on the cheek, then scooted upstairs. I heard the hairdryer and some movement then she was back down.

"Sorry, I'm going to miss this bus," then a pause, "Oh shit. I left my dirty stuff and wet towels in the bathroom. Would you mind just pushing it in my room and putting the towels to dry?"

Before I'd chance to answer she thrust her room key in my hand. "Thanks," and kissed me on the cheek.

Rather than forget, I went straight up to the bathroom. It was a mess. Two wet towels on the floor, her bra, the stuff she'd worn all day at college and a pair of black silky panties as well as Zoe's from earlier.

For me it was better than finding buried treasure. Her bra smelled divine, having been closely clinging to her tits all day. I skipped the blouse and jeans and went for her panties. These most certainly were not budget supermarket panties. The black silk was edged by dainty lace. It felt good, looked good and, by god, the gusset smelled good. Still damp, the padding was enriched with a creamy deposit. No shitty smell either, just a hint of pee. I was hard again.

I gathered the clothes, straightened the towels and took them to her room. Putting the towels on the radiator was a bit pointless as we had the heating on only when absolutely necessary. The meter was a token affair, at a tariff that benefited the landlord, not us. I dropped the clothes on her bed and noticed several other pairs of panties on the carpet, next to the bed.

Feeling guilty again, I picked all 4 pairs up. The washing machine, on the same token tariff, was used only when it was full. OK, she could have hand washed them but she hadn't. The first pair was silky, red, and very much smaller than the pair I'd sampled. I'm no expert but I think they'd be tanga briefs. Again, they were quality, the label told it all. The gusset was dry and the coating thicker and hard, almost crusty and I got the feeling she'd worn them two days. Either that or her fingers had been busy and the scent was quite strong. Powerfully strong in fact, causing me to immediately stiffen. I inhaled deeply and felt almost overwhelmed by their unique fragrance.

By the time I'd got to the third pair I felt as if I was in pussy heaven. Wow, what had I missed at home? What other guys had told me was true and I was determined I was going to take every opportunity to get my share of second-hand pussy smell that I could. What a fucking stupid idiot I'd been to miss out. Pair two were very lightly fragranced but pair three, in my hand, were not. There was a tinge of pinkish red which smelled different.

As I picked up the last pair, white, laced at the edges but bog standard cotton briefs, I noticed a much darker rusty red colour. Dried blood? Had she cut herself? Hell , no. This was probably the end of her monthly.

I heard the front door open, quickly dropped the panties before anyone saw me. I hurriedly left Mandy's room meaning to return later.

--

As the other two girls were going out, I decided to. There was a pub nearby offering a happy hour, 2 for 1, each evening usually for somewhat longer than an hour. After 2 pints of Black Sheep, darts, and a game or two of pool I'd totally forgotten about the panties.

By the time I'd had another pint and another few games of darts, time had moved on. I arrived back at the house only to find Mandy rather annoyed at being locked out of her room. Of course, I apologised and blamed the other guys who I'd been playing darts with. Mandy was still cross. I didn't see her for the rest of the evening, which was probably just as well.

--

The next that I heard about the panties was Mandy in my ear the following morning.

"Yesterday," she growled, without alerting the others, "I asked you if you'd mind putting my stuff in my room. Why were my panties not where I left them?"

I remained silent.

"Were you perving? Do you like looking at my panties? I thought I could trust you."

"I'm sorry," I said, lamely. "It was too tempting. I was feeling very horny, missing home."

"No excuse," she sounded rather sore about it. "You're as bad as my fuckin' ex."

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Make your own damned food if you can't give-and-take a little."

"We'll talk later about this," she hissed. "When the others aren't around."

The day passed far too slowly. A few minutes of pleasure for me turned out to be a very wrong thing to do. I should have been more careful. I couldn't concentrate on my work and that was picked up by one of the lecturers.

"You seem to be in a dream world," he said.

"Oh, I'm just not feeling too good," I lied.

And the conversation went on for a few minutes but I wasn't going disclose to him what had happened.

Mandy arrived home late, didn't speak much but ate the food I'd left covered in the oven. Meal over, obviously still in a mood, she spoke:

"My room, now!"

"So, what?" I asked as I closed her room door behind me.

"Why did you go through my panties?"

"I told you. I was horny. The temptation was there, I took it. I'm sorry. I haven't been able to get it out of my mind all day."

"Me neither. If you'd been my boyfriend it would have been different. OK, I agree you're away from home and you get horny sometimes, but I don't see how rooting about in 2 or 3 days worth of stale pee gets you off."

"It's not that. It's ..."

She cut me short. Her mood changed, a half smile on her lips. "OK, OK, I think you've suffered enough. I do have male friends and I do know - though I don't understand - that sniffing girls' panties is a turn on."

"I ... I .. I don't know," I stuttered, trying hard find an explanation but failing badly. "And I've been thinking about it all day." she continued, smiling broadly this time. "I think we can reach a deal."

"OK, what do you have in mind?" I asked.

"Well, you're quite a good cook and I have quite a good appetite."

"So you'll let me ..."

"And," she cut my reply short. "It's Sue's birthday a week come Saturday. If you can do some cooking ... anything cheap, burgers, sausage, whatever, it will save us money. Some of the girls are inviting friends but we'll probably be short on boys. Play your cards right and you could have a fun evening."

"What about the panties?"

"I'm curious," Mandy answered. "Shut your eyes." A pause for a few moments as she peeled off her jeans then her panties. "Here, let's see if they really are a turn-on."

It felt strange, very strange having a 19 year old girl, now wearing a tee-shirt only just long enough to cover her sex, watching me sniff her panties. It was easier when I closed my eyes and well, what can I say? The panties were fresh, still warm, damp on the gusset and very potent.

"Wow," said Mandy, "I really do appreciate you being man enough to do that. Some other guys would have chickened out." She reached forward.

I pulled back, not expecting the touch.

"Hey, don't pull away on me now." cried Mandy. "You've got quite a package down there." It was just an inspection though. Apart from the sneaky feel, nothing more happened.

"So. Is that agreeable?"

"Sounds OK to me."

"Good, let me have those back tomorrow. You can keep them overnight. Leave them in the bathroom and I'll put them away."

"Bossy cow, " I quipped, jokingly.

"Do you have a problem with that?" I wasn't sure whether that was another tease.

"No. It's fine," I said, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

"Good. Leave them in the bathroom ... and I don't want to have to wash off any cum."

--

The rest of the week flew by. Whenever I went in the bathroom there would be at least one pair of panties there, sometimes two, sometimes a bra. For a week I wanked myself senseless. The deal was a deal. I cooked, I sniffed, I wanked ... but not all at the same time.

Mandy became more friendly too, maybe missing her boyfriend though I wasn't at all sure whether they'd split before she went away to uni. We talked a lot and found we had a number of mutual interests but I was taken by surprise one evening when, in her room: