This story is pure fiction.
My thanks to Navycolt for his assistance with editing.
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Chapter 1
Shortly after my 18th birthday, I became a confirmed panty fetishist. At this point I was still a virgin and had never seen or touched any part of the female form. It had started with paging through my mother's magazines, filled with lingerie and underwear advertisements. In those days the adverts mostly showed white underwear and this meant that a dark smudge of pubic hair was clearly visible on through the panties on the page. (no Photoshop in those days!) I spent hours looking at these pictures and trying to imagine what was under the lovely white bras and panties. Not long after a friend showed me one of his father's Mayfair magazines and we would often sit and page through them trying to hide our solid hard on's. There is one picture that will always be imprinted in my brain: a fully dressed beautiful brunette, squatting with her skirt hiked and her legs open displaying a pair of pale yellow panties with a lace panel in front. Being an adult magazine, the picture was far more revealing that what I was accustomed to; her pussy lips were clearly visible through her pubic hair and the pronounced puffiness of her mound was evident. My fetish was born and soon progressed to the next level.
We were a co-ed college and were all required to wear uniforms, something we all hated. If we were going to do anything after college, we would always have spare clothes and would change at the first opportunity. This led me to my next discovery. I would often go home after classes with Alison, one of the girls in my class, and we would take turns heading to the bathroom to change as soon as we got to her house and then lie around in the lounge drinking coffee and listening to music. Being a well brought up young man, I always let her change first. This went on for months, and while I secretly lusted after her, I didn't make any connection with the panty pictures that I loved looking at and the fact that she must have worn them too. One evening while lying in bed stroking myself and fantasising about the women in the magazines and their sexy panties, it occurred to me that if I could not get my hands on a pussy, a pair of panties may be the next best thing. I immediately thought about the women I was in daily contact with and immediately Alison and her panties came to mind. Just the thought of snagging a pair of her worn panties had me quickly shooting my load onto a waiting tissue.
It was a few days before I went to Alison's house again. Leading up to my next visit I walked around with a perpetual hard on at the thought of finding a pair of her panties in the laundry hamper when next I visited. Walking to her house I was obviously distracted and on two occasions she asked whether everything was OK. I was able to put her off and tried a little harder to act normal. Waiting in the lounge while she changed was pure torment and I willed her to hurry up.
I heard the bathroom door open and was into the bathroom without wasting a second. I closed the door behind me and made sure that it was locked. The embarrassment of being caught would have been too great in a small community like ours. I immediately dropped my trousers and underpants to the floor, stepped out of them to free my already hard cock and went about looking for the hamper. I found it next to the sink and quietly opened the lid. My best case scenario had been realised. Not only was her college uniform lying on top, but her panties were also lying carelessly to one side. I picked them out and felt the soft fabric in my hands. They were a pale pink pair of cotton panties with no frills, bows or lace. They were still warm, and as I rubbed my finger over them I came to an area that was quite damp. I knew instantly that this was the place that had nestled between her legs for the last eight or nine hours. I brought the gusset of her panties to my nose. It was a scent sensation and after the first smell of pussy, I was instantly hooked. I took my cock in my hand and stood in front of the toilet and stroked my foreskin up and down until I could feel the throb of my cum rising and within seconds was shooting the largest load of my life into the toilet. I stood there milking the last of my cum up my shaft and into the toilet, all the while holding her panties to my nose determined to enjoy her scent for as long as possible. I quickly cleaned up, and although I thought about taking the panties with me, I decided against it for fear of being caught and reluctantly returned them to the hamper.
This went on for the remainder of my college career and during this time enjoyed countless pairs of Alison's panties. As my fetish took hold I was always on the lookout for a full laundry hamper in the bathroom or a carelessly discarded pair of panties on the bedroom floor. I enjoyed a number of friends' sister's panties and on one occasion my best friend's mother's panties. The scent of the older woman's panties had their own allure.
The touch, scent and taste of the real thing remained elusive and I left college as a virgin.
Chapter 2
As I had grown up in an older era, the world was a very different place. There was no such thing as a gap year, and as soon as I finished college, at 18 years old, I was out and looking for a job before I left for university.
After a fair bit of pavement pounding, I found a temporary job in the city nearest to my village. Although I had the hassle of a 30-minute commute, this was all a bit of an adventure to me. The biggest advantage was the multitude of women (young and old) that I could observe in the city as opposed to the limited number of the opposite sex in my village.
Our village was near the end of the line, and it did not take long for me to work out the good seats on the train. My main criterion for choosing a seat was being able to see and admire the sexy legs of the many female commuters sitting opposite me on the train. At times I was rewarded by the occasional flash of panties as legs were crossed and uncrossed. I also quickly noted that women who were avid readers often stopped concentrating on keeping their knees together which would lead to better views up their skirts and their hidden panties between their thighs.
Not long after I started my daily commute, a young, seemingly shy, women started to sit across from me every day. She was fresh faced with shoulder length blonde hair and nice pert breasts. It was summer so she regularly wore fairly short skirts that gave me a good look at her shapely legs but no sign of her panties.
She was about my age, and we started to chat every day. Her name was Ann and she lived in the next village, I discovered. After a few weeks, we became quite friendly, and as I got to know her better, I realised that she was probably more reserved than shy.
Each morning I would hope that the seat opposite would not be taken so that Ann could take the seat and we could chat the journey away. Sitting talking to Ann did not stop me from taking the occasional glance around to see if any of the ladies on the train were being careless with their knees so that I could catch a glimpse of their panties.
After a few weeks I plucked up the courage to invite her for a drink before catching the train home on evening, and she agreed without hesitation, but she did remind me that we needed to make sure we didn't miss the last train home. A very good sign!
Chapter 3
On the appointed day I got off work a little earlier than normal so that I could get us a quiet spot in the pub where we could chat without being disturbed. I sat quietly sipping my beer in the booth waiting for her to arrive. She walked in with a big smile on her face and sat down next to me rather than across from me, in the booth. This evening was getting better and better. She ordered a glass of wine and we sat and chatted about our pasts, current jobs and dreams for the future.