The alarm clock startled me from a deep slumber, and for a brief moment, I was in the clutches of unmitigated fear and panic.
OH NO, my mind screamed. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THESE PANTIES BEFORE MY MOTHER OR SISTERS CATCH ME!
When I reached over and pushed the button to stop the noisy clock, I was conscious enough to I realize I no longer lived at home. I flopped back down on my belly and waited until I caught my breath.
The front of my panties were crusty with dried semen, but they still felt wonderful against my erection. I ground my penis into the mattress and began my morning ritual.
There simply is no better way to start the day than with a rousing orgasm.
As I slowly moved my penis back-and-forth on the mattress, and the exciting sensations started to grow, I realized something wasn't right; my head snapped to the side and I glared at the clock.
HOLY CRAP---IT'S SEVEN-O'CLOCK!
I'd meant to set the alarm for six.
Normally, I woke-up at seven when I drove to work. There was plenty of time to masturbate then get ready for work. Not now though, I had to catch the seven-twenty-two bus.
I rolled out of bed and hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the panties; they were stuck to my crotch, and it took some effort to peel them away from my skin. I pushed them down, stepped out of them, then opened the bottom drawer of the bureau, and placed them with the other pairs under my sweatpants and tee shirts.
I almost ran to the bathroom. I pissed then jumped into the tub and took a very fast shower.
I pulled on my 'Dullard's' logo work shirt, and one of the three pairs of black pants that I owned; my hair was still damp as I hurried down the street to the bus stop. I made it with ten-seconds to spare. I climbed aboard, paid the fare, and found a seat close to the driver.
Oh darn, I thought. I'd forgotten to pull the bedcovers over the sheet. There was a huge, white splotch of dried you-know-what that sharply contrasted with the royal blue of the sheet.
Relax, John, no one is going to see it, I reassured myself. It's not like I have to hide it from mom.
I was pleasantly surprised by the bus ride. It made too many stops, and it filled to standing-room-only, but all the people seemed normal.
At one point, an older fat lady plopped down on the seat next to me, and I was scrunched against the side of the bus, but it didn't matter.
That's when I noticed the smell. It was coming from my crotch and it was as familiar as the aroma of bacon or coffee in the morning.
Because I hadn't had enough time, I'd done a haphazard job of cleaning myself. Now, some people say dried semen has no smell, but I know from years of experience they are wrong.
The aroma has been described as 'ammonia-like', but to me, and maybe my olfactory senses aren't what they should be, it has the distinct smell of musky, seafood.
And now it was drifting upwards from my crotch and invading my nostrils. Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I like the smell.
I only hoped the lady next to me didn't notice, but to my horror, she did.
At some point, she turned to me and said, in her best motherly-advice tone of voice, "Boy, you need to consider some serious hygiene improvements in the morning."
My face turned beet-red. I said, "Yes, Maam."
I stared out the window the rest of the time she sat beside me.
The ride was long, but uneventful.
When we arrived at Dullard's, I thought, Danny, this is nothing—your fear-mongering won't work---I can ride the bus for as long as it takes until you change that stupid 'payment plan.'
Jennifer had been partially correct. I did work in the lingerie department, but only half the day. My other department was Beauty & Fragrances.
'Perfume and Panties' is how I smilingly thought of my job.
After I clocked-in, I would go see my boss, Mrs. Nelson, in the Lingerie & Sleepwear Department. She was in-charge of both departments, and would tell me where to begin each day.
She would say: "The sale on Cotillions starts today, make sure we're fully stocked," or, "A shipment of Calvin Klein's is sitting in receiving," or, "We're running low on Elizabeth Arden" and so on....
I'd usually have to work Beauty first. The cases were too heavy for most of the sales ladies, and we sold more perfume and cosmetics than lingerie. I was fast and efficient, mainly so I could finish-up in Beauty as quickly as I could.
I didn't much care for most of the Beauty sales ladies. They were usually cold and demanding, called me "Hon," and they wore way too much make-up. I often coughed and gagged on the perfume they seemed to bathe in.
The Lingerie women were much nicer. They were older, more respectful, and generally seemed pleased to see me.
Of course, I preferred the Lingerie Department for obvious reasons.
We sold every type of lingerie imaginable, but my favorites were the panties and sexy sleepwear; namely the babydolls and chemises. I also loved to touch the sexy, flimsy lace bras, but thought it would be just plain silly and weird for me to wear brassieres.
I'll never forget my first day on the job: I opened a box labeled 'Hanky Panky' and inside I found the sexiest panties I'd ever seen. I did my best to control myself, but when I held them in my hands, the sheer, smooth softness overwhelmed me. I sprang a boner and it throbbed and twitched inside my briefs.
I guess I'd gone into a trance or something, standing there staring at the panties and running my fingers all over them. Suddenly, I heard Mrs. Nelson cough. I looked up and saw her staring at me over the top of her reading glasses.
My face turned bright red, and moisture filled my eyes. I was sooo embarrassed!
"Oh jeez—I'm sorry---I didn't mean anything---I don't know what happened to me---I'm sorry...." I profusely apologized.
Her voice was even; no sign of anger or scorn.
"Sweetie," she said softly, "don't be embarrassed...a lot of men love the feel of women's lingerie...it appears you have a panty-fetish---it's nothing to be ashamed of...BUT, if you want to keep this job, you need to work on your self-control...alright?"
"Y-Y-Yes, Mrs. Nelson---I swear it won't happen again!"
Then she added: "One more thing, dear..."
And horror-of-all-horrors, I saw her staring at my crotch.
"A boy like you shouldn't wear light-colored slacks to work...stay with basic black," she said with a slight smile then left me alone.
I looked down and saw the tiny bulge in my slacks, but far worse, a sizable pre-cum stain.
That evening on my drive home, I stopped and bought two more pairs of black pants.
The workday was coming to an end. I had one last package to open and stock the contents on a backroom shelf.
A feeling of excitement washed over me when I read 'Cabernet - Panties.' They too are some of my favorites.
I tore open the package and found the sleekest, sexiest panties I'd ever laid eyes on; they were diaphanous and pink. My prick instantly became erect. If it wasn't for the security cameras, I would have massaged my erection right then-and-there.
I couldn't just place them on the shelf, no, Mrs. Nelson had taught me how to neatly fold panties before I placed them on the shelf.
My hands trembled as one-by-one I folded the sexy pink panties. The soft and sensuous material caused my prick to jump and lurch in my briefs. I prayed to God I would finish before my balls exploded and I flooded my pants.
Just as I folded the last pair, and reached to place them on top of the others, my fingers manipulated the sheer fabric until it was a tiny ball in my hand. I closed my fist, moved away from the shelf and walked to an area I knew to be out of the range of cameras. I casually put my hand in my pocket, went about cleaning-up my work area, then strolled to the time clock and punched-out.
I slowly walked by George the Security Guard as he examined employee purses and packages. I smiled and he waved me thru the line. I was soon outside in the hot and humid Florida summer heat.
As I stood at the bus stop, I felt the familiar pangs of remorse and regret for taking the panties.
I'm not a bad person---I need these, I told myself. Sure, I already have pink panties, but they're not see-thru---I need these for my 'collection,' and honestly, it's not like I could buy them, everyone would know my secret, if I did that!
The bus arrived and I climbed onboard for the long ride home.
Two things struck me right away when I boarded the bus: it was already standing-room-only, and, the evening passengers looked different than the morning passengers.
I held onto a pole near the driver and resigned myself I'd have to stand for much of the hour-and-a-half ride.
"HEY KID," the driver shouted at me. "YOU SPECIAL OR SOMETHING? MOVE TO THE BACK!"
It was embarrassing---all the other passengers looked at me as I carefully made my way as far back as I could go.
It was a whole different world in the back of the bus. The people seemed sullen and angry; no one smiled or talked or even made eye contact; some of them appeared to be downright dangerous. It felt like I was standing in the middle of a freak show.
I clutched a pole with both hands and hung-on for dear life as the bus lurched forward for a block then would suddenly stop. More and more people climbed aboard, but no one seemed to get off. We were soon packed-in like sardines in a tin can.
Then I became aware of all the smells. Everyone seemed to have their own particular brand of body odor and none of it was pleasant. And worse, my own smell began drifting upwards and I was horrified others would notice it, too.
During the course of my typical workday, I would have numerous erections from handling the merchandise, and my briefs would absorb many dribbles of pre-cum. I could now smell an even stronger aroma from my crotch than this morning.
