There are a lot of embarrassing situations a guy can get caught in. Be it your boss finding you asleep at your desk, a buddy seeing you driving down the street singing along to a Taylor Swift song, or what I once thought was the Holy Grail of humiliation: Being forced to stand and walk to the chalk board in 8th grade with one of those "out of the blue and for no apparent reason" puberty erections. Those are just a few of the ways I'd felt mortification in my life, but they seemed quite tame when compared to the moment I'd found myself in.
But first a little back story. I'd been dating Riley for two years when we agreed to move in together, and it all seemed to be tracking well. That my subtle research into her ring size was noticed not discouraged. I was enjoying the domestic bliss, something I never thought possible in my previous 31 years. But I was sure it was all over - like all my shit thrown on the front lawn of her townhouse over - when she decided to skip the gym after work one day and unexpectedly walk into our bedroom to find me jerking off while holding a pair of panties to my face.
"What the fuck!" She screamed, in a half questioning and half accusatory way.
"Ahhh... They're yours." I pleaded.
I don't know why I thought this was the right thing to say, as if the fact that they were hers made it better somehow. Not to mention that she would obviously recognize the very panties she had worn the previous day, and that she'd consented to leave on while we fucked in our living room.
"What? Why should that matter? What... what were you doing... I mean, I know what you're doing... but... why?"
Why indeed. The real story, as I saw it, was long and may or may not have made any sense to her. I wasn't totally sure it made sense to me. My first thought was a fucked-up attempt at simple flattery. Tell her something like "your scent is intoxicating, and I just couldn't resist" which was true but only a small ingredient.
I opted for the long story. As I lay on the bed, shirt/no pants, with my hard-on retreating and her dirty undies still clutched in my left hand I told her. I told her how in my pre-internet formative masturbatory years the only material I could find to use, as it were, was the bra and panty section of the Sears catalogue. Later, when my older sister's best friend got kicked out of her house and moved into our basement it went to another level.
I was always in search of a new string to my self-abuse bow, and I found it in a Victoria's Secret catalog in her room. While sitting on her bed and flipping through the pages my eyes were drawn to the pile of dirty laundry on her floor. I still don't know what caused me to grab a pair of black panties from the pile, put them to my face and smell them.
Riley winced a bit when I described this scene, and I felt my face go one shade redder. I was sure our relationship was over at that moment, but she hadn't stormed out or slapped me. As I fell quiet with these thoughts bouncing around my head, she urged me to continue.
So, I told her how I progressed to sneaking into my sister's friend's room and grabbing a pair of panties to take back to my room to jerk off with. I told her how when I started having sex with my first girlfriend, she was always so nervous that her parents could come home at any time that we had to do it practically clothed. Virtually any sex act we engaged in was done with my pants around my ankles and panties her pulled to the side.
As I talked her posture changed. She went from standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed and face contorted into a scowl, to sitting on the edge of the bed, and finally to leaning toward me and slowly caressing my naked leg, not in a sexual way, but almost as if she was trying to comfort me as I unburdened myself.
"So it's always been this way for you?"
"Not always, per se. When I got to college the ability to have fully naked sex was so freeing that I would pull a girl's panties off and toss them to the side with out really thinking about it."
