It's not something I am proud of, I mean if it wasn't for this thing I'd be a really good person, I mean I am a good person now, except, except when I have to do it. I guess if it wasn't such a perverted little thing I might not be considered creepy or sick. Of course there are times I wonder if the women weren't a bit flattered that I stole their panties.
It all started years ago when I lived with my family in a house near a Laundromat. Each week my mother would load up the dirty clothes, toss them in some large bags, grab my hand and we'd walk. While the clothes washed and dried I got to watch the other pretty ladies washing their clothes. When the drying was done my mother would let me move the clothes from the dryers and put them in the little cart with wheels.
I remember how nice the clothes smelled, almost like flowers. The towels would be so warm, my pants and shirts would be kind of rough, but mother's clothes, especially her underwear, her panties, they were so soft. I can remember how wonderful they felt on my face, the soft, shimmering fabric and the hint of lace.
As I got older, mother and I would go together, but once the washing was done, she'd load up the dryers and leave me to unload them. Once I unloaded the dryers I would sneak home with the roller cart from the Laundromat. Mind you , I didn't steal the cart, I borrowed it to get the clothes home. After my mother unloaded the clothes from the cart, I'd bring it back.
Of course while I waited for the clothes to dry and after I brought back the cart I had free roam of the Laundromat. It was so easy to wander past a lady folding her unmentionables, as mother started calling them, and slip one into my pocket. I'd then rush out and dive into one of my hiding places and enjoy my new trophy. I got to love the soft feel of satin and lace.
When I went into high school I would volunteer to do the wash each week, so I could continue with my theft. By then I had come to appreciate the unwashed panties, though stealing those were difficult. A teenager doesn't have the liberty to move in and around the woman at a Laundromat without drawing attention. I usually found a little kid I could bribe into grabbing the panties out of the women's hampers.
When I graduated from high school may parents moved away and left the house for me to live in. During the last year of school I got a part time job at the Laundromat, and while some of the women complained about missing lingerie, and about how creepy I was, my boss never did suspect me. Of course, at eighteen, while I still liked the feel of the panties on my face, there were other places on me that enjoyed the soft material.
It was then, while I would make some deliveries for my boss, that I began following some of the ladies home. Then I learned how good things could be. I remember following her the first time after lifting two nicely stained pairs of panties from her laundry. It was perfect, the house next door was empty, one of those up for sale by the banks.
Anyway, as she walked in the front door, I quickly ducked into the bushes next door and in a short time I watched as she put away her clothes. With one pair of her panties on my head and the other wrapped around my cock, I slowly stroked my cock. Letting the crotch of the panties run down my nose I worked my lips over the crusty dry spot and began sucking, tasting her while breathing deeply through my nose. In no time I was spurting my cum into the satin panties and onto the ground.