Chapter 1
The Set-Up
My little sexual, I don't know, perversions, fetishes, twists on the normal, has never been exposed, displayed, nor shared...period. It never hurts anyone or affects my interaction with daily life (though it probably has contributed to my difficulty developing relationships). It is one of the few absolute secrets I have kept from the world. I'm a sado-masochistic ass-man and I've had a submissive fascination and attraction for wearing women's undergarment for almost as long as I can remember.
It isn't only the clothes, but what they are enclosing; the primal tactile sensual ecstasy promised by that in which they are in direct contact with. It's the goal; the place for which to strive; the source of envy at my inadequacy and inability to have or possess. It's the place I yearn to immerse myself into.
I harmlessly indulge my little perversion by stealing panties from female friends and acquaintances; preferably well used panties, especially if the owners are attractive. If I go to a party, if at all possible, I check out the laundry hampers. I never go into someone's closets or bureaus. That would be going too far. It's personally easier to rationalize if it is only dirty laundry I pursue when the opportunity presents itself but it still makes me a perverted panty thief...I'm ok with that.
I've managed to collect about a dozen pair and can recall the faces and shapes of the women who wore them. I frequently wear them, nearly every day actually, and wash them when they become, shall we say, a bit crusty. I've also made some on-line purchases so I can really dress up. I have two skirts, several blouses, a few dresses, and some prosthetic breasts that I bought from a site for transvestites, but I was too paranoid to do much on line shopping. I let my hair grow past my shoulders, ostensibly as an act of general defiance, but in reality, to better fantasize. Wearing women's undergarments is as close as I ever get to dressing in public. Then it's all about my imagination when I see a beautiful woman and fantasize. It's the slightly dangerous edginess that heightens my erotic feelings. I suppose I became overconfident or, perhaps, wanted to get caught. I don't know.
I went to a New Years party at the flat of a co-worker. Cynthia is a single, very successful, attractive woman with nice size breasts, a slender waste and a slightly disproportionately wide butt that drove me to distraction. It wasn't too big, you know, not a bubble butt. She was tight and firm with legs that go all the way up but wide. The slender waste blossoming smoothly from the flared hips swaying in the clingy dresses she sometimes wore tweaked my groin and made my imagination run in some of the most bizarre directions I had ever explored. She was successful because she naturally assesses peoples body language and voice characteristics, enabling her to spot lies or misdirection.
The party was reasonably well attended and the flowing alcohol made a short line for the use of her bathroom. I really had to go and asked if she had another one I could prevail upon to her to allow me to utilize. She led me through her bedroom to her private bath where, to my joy, I saw her laundry hamper. I quickly did my business and rooted through soiled cloths. Finding a pair of hot-pink panties, I raised them to my face, inhaling the feminine odors, lightly perfumed with musky overtones. It was lovely. A noise outside the door brought me short. I stuffed them into my pocket and returned to the party.
I enjoyed particularly pleasant orgasms fantasizing with those panties and life went along fine until about four months later. I won the lottery. One would think that would solve a lot of issues and, of course, it did. I owed nobody anything and if I wanted something, it was no issue. Naturally, I chose to retire and, to my surprise, Cynthia volunteered to have a celebration party at her flat. I volunteered to pay for catering and clean-up afterwards (after all, I just hit it big) and the date was set.
The party was a success. There was, once again, an opportunity (not unintentional) to use her private bathroom and thus check out her soiled undies. Right on top sat a pair of bright red panties. I couldn't believe my luck. They were quite obviously well used. The entire crotch was stiff with dried body fluids and there were long, brown skid marks along gusset. I couldn't help myself. It seemed highly unlikely that I would continue associating with my former co-workers, so I snatched them.
They went into my pocket. I couldn't keep my hand from them. It was always migrating to my pocket. Continuous fondling of the satiny panties totally distracted me for the rest of the evening. Pathetic and sick, isn't it?
That night I slobbered all over those panties, licking them nearly clean in the process. I imagined my nose in her pussy and my tongue in her ass for hours. I finally, and quite suddenly, shot my load clear to my chin. It was fantastic.
Two days later Cynthia called and invited me to her flat to settle the party bills. Once again, I couldn't help myself. I wore those panties. The thought of being right there conversing with the beautiful Cynthia (with whom I had zero chance) while her satiny panties that had caressed her pussy and ass just a short time past were clinging to my raging cock was simply irresistible.
She greeted me at the door wearing a thin, clinging, red nylon strap dress and medium black heels. She looked very hot. I had some trouble keeping my eyes someplace safe. I was also acutely aware of her panties covering my semi-erect cock.
We settled our business and I was about stand to leave when she said;
Please wait, I think I have another issue to discuss. It's in your interest to sit and hear something. Something I have discovered about you...A dirty...perverted...little...secret."
"I am, by nature," she continued, "a rather methodical person, so, after the New Years party, I noticed something rather curious. I specifically noted that the last thing I threw into the hamper was a blouse...the hamper had been ruffled...jostled...as if being searched. As I sifted through the clothes, I found my pink panties were on gone. Since you were the only other person in that room that evening, it could only have been you. You stole my panties, didn't you?"
Total body blush. My breathe stopped cold. My insides felt as if they had shrunk to nothing; a humiliated, truly gutless, dizzying, hollow pit.
"Did you enjoy them?"
I swallowed hard.
"At first I was disgusted." She continued. "But after a bit of consideration, I decided to do a bit of research to find out more about your little...perversion. It was very, shall we say, enlightening. As I learned, I reflected on your general behavior, recognizing a number of situation dependent behavior and character traits and deduced additional probable sexually motivated behaviors and deviations in which you likely indulge. I was very...very...thorough. It was during my research that I decided to set you up. As soon as I had that thought I became aroused. It confused me at first, but I soon realized that I wanted you under my will. I wanted to watch you writhe in embarrassed pain...begging for my attention. At your party I deliberately left those red panties in full view, with absolute certainty that you wouldn't be able to pass them up. "
She moved close to me, face to face her feminine scent filling my senses. Her breath gently wafted over my neck. "I think you and I are going to need to talk...a great deal."
She turned and moved away, slowly pacing the room.
"Considering the time and effort you forced me to spend, plus the fact that you stole from me, it seems that I am entitled to answers. I think you had better answer any question I ask with absolute detailed truth or I'll call the cops. That will bring reporters that are desperate for some kind of copy...they'll love this and make such noise about your thievery that you won't be able to go into public without someone pointing at you, laughing. Plus, you'll be classified as a sexual predator. We both know it's harmless but that isn't the point. It may only be your word against mine, but people don't want the truth. They always want to believe the worst, so, the truth doesn't really matter now, does it?
Remember...I have done my homework. You will need to convince me you are being truthful. I will have the truth from you... all of it. If I feel you are lying, I call the police. I will ask...you will answer. Agreed?
What could I do? I nodded a yes, dropping my gaze to my feet.
Standing just inches in front of me, with two fingers under my chin lifting my eyes to hers, "I would hear you say it!" she demanded.
"Yes...I agree" I responded quietly.
"Good," she said with a wry smile. "Now tell me...did you masturbate with my panties."
I was burning with embarrassment, "Yes." I couldn't believe it...my cock was rapidly swelling; the satiny panties sliding sensuously against my growing tool.
"What did you do with them?"
"I wore them over my face for your scent, then stuffed the crotch in my mouth."
"Did the taste excite you?"
"Yes"
"Then what?"
"I fantasized that you made me eat your ass until I finally ejaculated."
"Interesting." she continued. "I wore them for five days and I wasn't very thorough when I cleaned myself. I masturbated in them daily. I repeatedly soaked the entire crotch with cum. The last day I peed through them and set them aside to dry...and you sucked them up. My...you certainly are a potty-mouth little panty-perv, aren't you?"
"Yes" I answered dropping my gaze to the floor.
"Do you have a panty collection?"
"Yes."
"How often do you wear them?"
"Nearly every day"
"Does your little sissy-clit get all hard when you wear women's clothes?" she asked, pitching her voice and enunciation as if asking an infant.
