Those aren't my orange panties on the couch, though I suppose you could call them mine now. They don't belong to my wife either. With that established, whose panties are they? The answer is that I really don't know, and that's what's exciting about them.
I've always been attracted to the scent of a woman's aroused pussy, and I learned that the scent could be nicely carried by a wet pair of panties. I didn't start out as a panty sniffer, but just sort of grew to like it over the course of my life. Sniffing my wife's panties, knowing she got hot and wet because of me, is a great thrill and I have masturbated many times with her hot panties over my nose and mouth, deeply inhaling her scent.
That doesn't explain how the panties got here though.
We live in a fairly old apartment complex, with a lot of young adults and college kids passing through continuously. Sometimes, fighting for washers and dryers at the laundry room can be quite an art, and I know exactly how long each washer and dryer it takes to do its particular job; that way, I ensure I'm back to claim my clothes before some maniac removes them and tosses them to the floor or counter.
Last week, it was laundry day once again. I decided to get an early start, and arrived at the laundry room at about 8:30 on that morning. I was pleased to find it empty, so I had my choice of washers. I filled two of them, not wanting to be greedy, and got them started. As I got ready to leave, I saw another tub of laundry sitting on the counter by the door, obviously left by someone intent on the same mission as myself. Curious, I went to the door, and did not see anyone around who might own the basket. I was ready to leave, when something caught my eye.