Confession Of A Panty Thief

The following accounts are just a handful memorable panty related adventures from my past. Enjoy.

I have had a panty fetish as long as I can remember. Gaining access to women’s wardrobes has presented formidable challenges and great rewards. These experiences are in no particular order.

My brother’s girlfriend was a hottie and was known to scream when she came. My parents often left town for their summerhouse thus providing my brother with a pad he’d turn into Bourbon Street. There was a lot of commotion during their sexual interludes, mostly bumping and screaming on her behalf; a real drama queen. Nonetheless, I was growing more attracted to her and had designs on her panties. I entertained the idea of sneaking in and taking the goods but that was not likely to go unnoticed. I peeked under his door as he banged away at her and could tell she was laying on his workout bench because I could see my brother’s ankles. That was all that I could see. But suddenly the white panties hit the floor next to him - the first casualty of the night. By this time I had discovered the art of self stimulation and was just warming up with my ear to the floor. Suddenly, the two stopped. His girlfriend noticed headlights shine across the wall as my folks made a surprise return home. It was uncharacteristic of them to return on a Saturday, especially at midnight. I darted to my bedroom as the two of them made a quick exit downstairs and out the back door.

The girlfriend had made it to my brother’s car that was parked by the lower garage under the house. That is where she remained for the rest of the night as my brother walked through the side door in time to greet our folks. The conversation was directed at the fact that my brother had just come in the door wearing only sweat bottoms. He was talking about how he’d made sure his car doors were locked and on and on. While they chatted, I took the opportunity to sneak into his room and claim my prize. The white, shiny panties with the lace front were sitting there just as they had landed. Now in my possession I scampered back to my room where I indulged myself in their soiled ecstasy. During the day I kept them in the pocket of my scout uniform that hung in my closet and would wear them every night. This is where I discovered the downside of wearing someone else’s panties. The awesome scent of the previous owner goes away and is replaced by that of my own. The need to wash the panties and neutralize them is in order. Of course, all washing is done by hand and line drying must be done in an inconspicuous place. But the reward is always worth the troubles.

The question of those missing panties never came up surprisingly.

Another memorable time was when my friend’s parents flew to New Zealand for a forty day bike expedition. During that time he, too, went away but only for a weekend. He asked me to walk the family dog at least twice a day which was no problem at all. I spent hours at their big house watching cable TV and helping myself to the kitchen. Their house sat on a hillside so while the dog and I walked around the house, I could see into the drying room of their laundry facility. There were a couple neatly ironed shirts and a big pair of nylon panties hanging from the line. Some might call these panties ‘Granny shorts’ because there was nothing outwardly sexy about them. They were sensible and considering that his mother was a matronly, middle aged woman, there was nothing to get excited over. But I knew better. My wealth of panty knowledge reminded me that there are very few panties that one can actually beat the bishop in. Most panties are narrow or constricting and limit the amount of hand movement required for beating off. The cock must be pulled out of the side or top in order to pump away. These panties actually allowed all the movement necessary for orgasm while providing the extra sensation of intermittent tension on the scrotum. Two people could probably fit in these stretchy undergarment at the same time. It is safe to say the dog was well walked since I spent the entire weekend at their house. Yes, the panties were washed and returned to their rightful place when I finished.

The panty aficionados out there will certainly agree that there is an additional arousing feature to stealing panties: returning the panties! There is a slight charge I receive when I know a pair of panties once in my possession has been returned and continues to be worn by the subject. I’ve gone one step further and repossessed the panties again. This requires relatively easy access to the wardrobe. I surreptitiously gained access to my sister-in-laws home with a key that she insists we keep. For starters, I must say this woman sets the standard for gorgeous. She is perfect in every way. I would be reluctant not to rate her as a ‘ten’ but I’ll give her a 9.5. I have yet to meet a ‘ten’. She is sweet and I love her dearly. She is also off limits on a variety of levels. She is my wife’s sister. Her panties, of course, are fair game provided I am careful. If she ever discovered my fascination with her intimates, I’d have a lifetime of embarrassment and humiliation not to mention the wraith of my wife should she find out.

I have kept her panties on and off over the years and one pair in particular was returned after a year or two absence. I was flirting with the idea of her suspecting some less than honorable deeds by placing the panties between her washer and dryer. Within weeks, the panties were pulled from that space and haven’t been seen since. She must have thrown them out without a second thought. That’s okay. The ones in question were black cotton and had long ago lost their erotic novelty. I flirted with danger once by taking a pair from her room. She had a house full of guests and was hosting a dinner. She sat right next to me like so many times before. Except this time she wore a loose skirt and at one point stood up and snapped her panties as she pulled them from her cheek. The subtle and distinct snap was less than a foot from my ear as she squeezed between my chair and the wall. I had to have her panties that night. Any pair would do and I made off with a stripped cotton Rio style.

The family once attended a Christmas ball and she wore a tight, shiny red dress that reached her ankles. She couldn’t sit down without pulling the dress up her thighs and confessed she had bought it that day off the rack. That was fine with me. I could see her panty lines and actually considered taking a photo of her under the table as I sat across from this beautiful creature. No doubt her hiked up dress would’ve offered the up-skirt opportunity of a lifetime. The evening ended as always: We all leave with our respective spouses. I had to have sex the moment we arrived home. I’m surprised my wife has not made the connection of the times I initiate sex after being around her sister for any extended period of time. The following day I found myself at her house and with no one around. I let myself in and headed straight for her room. I’m thankful she can be a slob because a week’s worth of clothes were on the floor waiting for laundry day. The dress from the party was no exception and neither were the panties that she’d worn less than twelve hours prior. Oh, my god! The panty lines were still fresh in my mind as I brought the treasure to my face. The panties were sheer black nylon with a crushed velvet floral pattern on the back side. The cotton lining was black and had subtle traces of wear. The faint white traces smelled sweet and my envious lips caressed the cotton. I was saddened to find no hint of detectable taste as I brought the fabric onto my tongue. My heart pounded as I weighed my options. I had to leave them where they were found. But there was a consolation prize. A white satin thong. She had three pairs of white and three pairs of black. I knew this and the chance of her missing one pair was remote.

A similar experience happened last summer. Some friends of the family visited us on Independence Day. Their daughter wore a small summer skirt that showed much of her long legs. She was oblivious to the fact that anyone glancing in her direction could see her panties as she played with our dog. Or she didn’t care. The panties were white and satin - almost appearing silver. No less that three cameras were in use that day and one was bound to capture her beauty. The following week I received reprints from someone else. This person had taken a group photo of everyone and managed to capture a panty shot of this young woman sitting on a chair in the front of the group. The shiny panties had a reflective quality that captured every bit of the flash. I salivated and worked on a plan to obtain the panties once and for all. We had planned on a rafting trip and were meeting at the subjects house the following week.

I made a point of finding her room while everyone else was securing the equipment to the trailer and packing goods. My face was red hot from the excitement and danger. The chance of getting caught was likely but one light kick to a pile of dirty laundry exposed the arc; the prize covenant that preoccupied the depths of my libido. There were two other pairs but with different colors. They must have been in a package of three because they were otherwise identical. One was black satin, the other white with small black ivy. This pair was white with whiter shapes of ivy. This was the pair. I stuffed the panties in my pocket and managed to slink into the bathroom for a moment to make sure it my exit was smooth. I heard someone walk by the bathroom within a minute and knew I’d cut it close. I grabbed a cooler on the way out of the house and we were en route to the rapids. I cleverly stuffed the panties under my car seat and fetched them after the weekend was through. This was the first and only time I could enjoy the panties with a photo of the subject wearing the actual pair. This was a rare and exciting circumstance. I’m still working on a way to return them to her laundry pile but that requires much planning and covert means of entry.

To be continued…