With work and travel I didn't see Amy for several weeks. Now that we'd actively made each other cum it seemed, somehow, there was less urgency to our activities. I didn't know how her relationship with her husband was progressing and I had my usual fish to fry (in varying degrees of what may have satisfied Mr. Plato). I'd been back to the country once or twice but they had been flying visits and I'd spent most of the Summer sweltering in the city for one reason or another.
Julia, the real love of my life had been gone for over six months but Skype and chat kept us tightly bonded and secure for the future. I'm eternally grateful for an amazing part-time lover as understanding and un-jealous as Julia.
One day in September an email from Amy arrived along with the first hints of Fall. The subject was simply: "Shopping". There was no text just a photo attachment. My heart skipped and my cock pricked up his ears at the mention of her name.
The photo was a "selfie" taken in her bedroom. In the foreground was Amy's smiling face and a cute, black lacy bra that uplifted her cute little titties and gave them a hint of cleavage. In the background was her full length mirror that showed her hot, plump, ass bisected beautiful by a matching thong. It was a beautiful sight and my cock and I spent some quality time together enjoying it in the middle of a boring workday.
I have no idea what steps she took to hide her emails from Dave. Perhaps he just wasn't the snooping type. She was a borderline geek from her graphic work so perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing. Nevertheless, I downloaded her photo, deleted the email, and replied on a new thread.
"Hi Amy, thanks for the email! Hope everything is well with you and hope to see you all again soon."
I hoped the exclamation mark, the "all" and the "again" made my point while meaning nothing to anyone else. The next day she replied:
"Hi Thomas, I'm glad you liked it. Denise is having a party next Saturday. If you're in town I really hope you will come :)"
Suddenly my cock and my weekend plans hardened. "She can't spell 'cum'," said my cock.
"Amy, sounds great, I'll be there! Is there any kind of shopping I should bring?"
I knew the "shopping" reference would carry over from her initial email and, sure enough, she replied a few minutes later:
"Great! No, Denise and me have all the shopping we need. Maybe bring some of your famous brownies? Can't wait to see you, neighbor xxx"
That was a little strange. If shopping was a code word then why was Denise involved? Did Denise's shopping mean food while Amy's meant something else? Denise was the one that bought Amy the sex toys that had started all this. And she had seen me leave Amy's house after our last encounter... hmm...
Denise had lived across the street from Amy since before either of us had moved in. She was an interesting 40-ish women who was quite the opposite of Amy. A brunette, with a larger but well-maintained, made-for-comfort body, complete with big inviting breasts. Her face was freckled and pleasant as opposed to Amy's more classic and pretty visage. She had several children ranging from early teens to married-with-children and I had always gotten along very well with her and her family.
At neighborhood get togethers I paid my dues quickly with the husbands and inevitable gravitated to the ladies circle where the conversation typically had a naughty overtone in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol (and Thomas-pushed weed) consumed. Sober, drunk, or stoned, Denise was never shy around risque topics. At one point in time she was being encouraged (nagged) to quit cigarettes by her husband and she would sometimes sneak off with me to smoke one when he wasn't paying attention.
It's one of my personality flaws to enjoy anything that a women will do with me in secret.
Throughout the week the renewed contact with Amy brought her back into my masturbatory fantasies. I didn't speculate on what the weekend would bring with her in real life but, with my cock frequently in my hand, I fucked her in fifty different positions, from bent over the bench in her front yard to bound and gagged in my basement.
I arrived at the country home late on Friday night and went to bed immediately. I awoke early and by noon I had finally completed a large batch of special brownies for the party.
This hadn't gone very smoothly and I had ended up with a stronger mix than intended.
The day passed slowly with chores and laundry. These parties never have a defined start time since most of the neighbors have children and random activities. We generally show up somewhere between 7:00 and 8:00 and continue till the last man or woman standing.
Showers, shaved, and dressed I crossed the street around 7:30 with a bottle of vodka, a nice chilled wine, and a tray of brownies wrapped in foil. This isn't our first rodeo and, after the hugs and kisses and handshakes, Denise relieved me of my offerings. She put the vodka on the shelf, the wine in the refrigerator, and the tray on the highest shelf in a cupboard. We were not stupid enough to leave a tempting tray of special brownie where curious children might decide to sample them. She made me a large vodka-orange juice from an already open bottle and busied herself with food preparation.
I took a long sip and a good look at her. She was wearing a nice, black, knee-length dress that was kind to her body and generous to her big breasts. I saw hints of a substantial bra that held those girls in check and delivered an impressive cleavage. Her firm ass filled out the dress amply and, if there had been an obvious pantie line, I'm sure I would have noticed. We chatted inconsequentially for a few minutes while I quickly drained my dutch courage, helped myself to a refill, and told her I'd get out of her way for a while.
In the large living room I mingled with the early guest. I knew about half of them and was introduced to the others. As a solo guy with a strange lifestyle I often become the focus of conversation in a group of more conventional all-Americans. I try to be self-deprecating as much as possible but I secretly enjoy this. Over the years I have found (or imagined) that only the more confident males warm to my outsider status whereas the ladies often engage me with a little gleam of excitement in their resigned-to-convention, alcohol enbravened eyes.
More people began to arrive and more greetings and introductions ensued. Around 8:00 PM, I heard Amy and Dave arrive in the other room. I hadn't spoken to them together since her bathroom rescue (and our subsequent trips along her new-found path of sexuality). I remained in a corner of the living room while my cock berated me, suggesting crudely that I immediately go fuck her against the hallway wall while Dave watched.
I declined. Dave entered the room alone, and made his rounds of friends and neighbors. He seemed genuinely pleased when he spotted me and shook my hand. If good old Dave had found my cum in his laundry or my cock in his wife's deepest thoughts, he was hiding it well.
Denise entered the room and came directly to me: "Thomas, can I bother you a moment?"
She led me to the kitchen and there, looking ravishing, was Amy. They both grinned at me and their eyes sparkled with mischief. Just what does Denise know, I wondered.
Amy was also wearing a little black dress but tighter and shorter than Denise's. Hers had a high neckline that displayed her small chestley treasures more discretely. She wore nice high heels that enhanced her shapely legs and added several inches to her height.
"Brownie time, Thomas," said Denise, "But not here, too many nosey people! Amy and I had ours in the upstairs bathroom. Go up there right now and find what left you inside the towel on the top of the laundry hamper."
"Uhh, okay." I turned to leave.
Amy touched my arm and added: "Put the wrappers in your pocket so nobody finds them."
All that made sense, right? The girls were being sensible and practical and the shared mischief was just about my special brownies. I headed up the stairs. I waved a "Hi" into the bedroom where a gaggle of teenagers were too busy with video games to care. I entered the bathroom and locked the door.
In the corner stood a family-sized laundry hamper, the woven rope kind that Ali Baba would have liked. I pulled up the lid and, sure enough, there was a nondescript towel on the top of the half-full basket. I lifted the edge of the towel and there was a black object inside which I retrieved. It had a solid center but it was wrapped in fabric. I brought it out into the light and began to open it on the sink countertop. I couldn't believe my eyes! Panties!
Panties, it transpired, in plural. Two of my brownies lay unprotected in the center of two pairs of panties, both black, one plainish bikini style and one a lacy thong. They were right in the crotch of the plainer pair and the thong (which I now recognized the thong from Amy's "shopping" photo) was wrapped around both. Fuck me! I tipped out and ignored the brownies and examined the panties. I held them in turn to my nose. The crotch of the thong smelled delicious but mild. The plainer pair smelled considerably stronger but delicious too. I swore that they both felt warm, as if they had just been worn, but it wasn't enough to be sure. They certainly smelled tantalizingly fresh.
Now a kink is something sexual that people enjoy in moderation while a fetish is the same thing taken to extremes. Sniffing panties is something I genuinely enjoy either when the opportunity arises - either blatantly in front of the owner or discreetly during my turns at laundry duty. I don't make a habit of raiding peoples hampers but my best female friends have had enough sleepovers with me to assume that panties thrown into my hamper will eventually be returned, cleaned and thoroughly sniffed.
But I wasn't just enjoying a simple kink here. This was a message or a statement and my head swam with the implications. Here were Amy's panties - that made perfect sense - but Denise's too? I could certainly distinguish between the two scents. I previously had Amy's pussy-flavored finger in my mouth and the recollection matched the thong. With a flash of pervy inspiration I went back to the hamper and dug deeper. Near the bottom I found what I was looking for: a pair of similar bikini panties in blue. I brought each pair in turn to my nose to compare and contrast. The scent was identical yet the blue pair was less fresh, less strong, and stone cold.
All these pussy juice pheromones had grabbed my little friend's attention. He was hard and uncomfortable in my tight jeans. I also needed a pee. Remembering what I was supposed to be there for, I began to munch the brownies. Two was a little much for a sensible person and this batch was extra strength - I hoped the girls hadn't overreached themselves. They were nice and moist ("The way we like our vaginas," mumbled my cock) and, with a handful of water from the faucet, I downed them both. By ignoring the panties for a moment, Mr Cock was pliable enough to let me take a long hard piss.
When I'd put him away (he protested of course) and washed my hands I remembered what Amy had said about the "wrappers". Damn she's crazy! I felt like I'd been up here too long so I took one last "toke" from each of them, I put the blues back where I found them, and stuffed the other two pairs into my left pocket (my cigarettes were in the right) and, since panties are delightfully small, there was no noticeable bulge.
I descended the stairs in a daze. Amy and Denise grinned at me but both their husbands were with them in the kitchen fixing drinks.
