This is a work of fiction. All characters are over eighteen years of age.
I remember the first time I came in a pair of panties. I was nineteen and in college. They were my roommates, it was a co-ed dorm. I loathed her, she was a pig of a housekeeper, never did her laundry. While I found her unattractive that wasn't the case for her dirty bloomers. The smell lured me in, pungent and slightly sour, but with that woman's musk, it went right to my hind-brain. She never found out, or if she did she never said anything.
My sex life started out normal, like everyone else's I'm sure. I love women, I like to fuck them but I love Love LOVE their panties. Somewhere along the way they hooked my mind like a trout. Even more than the mysteries they contain behind the thinnest of fabrics.
Once I recognized my... preference, shall we say, it wasn't long before it was all consuming. I visited my sister's place recently, stole a pair of her plain cottons, they're beside me on the desk as I write this. Lacey edges, pink and white stripes with a cartoon bear on the butt, a well worn pair. The cotton gusset in the crotch is stained, there are a few curly hairs trapped in the lace. I don't care if they're my sister's panties, although it does add a certain naughtiness. It's the fact that they are there at all that makes me so excited. What I'm going to do with them.
I'm getting distracted. Let's see, I'm now in my forties, not unattractive, I still have all my hair. I work out but I still have that Dad-bod. And I have between forty and fifty pairs of ladies undies in ziplock bags in my closet.
I keep stealing them because once I've used them up, I need more. I'm very lucky I live in a big city, lots of laundromats. They're my usual hunting ground. Moms are my favorite. While the kids distract them for me, zip, into my pocket. And they usually have the more pungent aroma.
