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PANTY STORY # 82
I am in my fifties, grew up in the Midwest as the second oldest of seven children, five boys and two girls. My older brother (now deceased) was 3 years older, and my next younger brother is five years younger. I have two sisters, seven years and ten years younger, respectively. When I was five, my mother started having babies every year for the next four years, skipped a year then had her last child. I think I became a kind of a "lost child" once my younger brothers and sisters began to arrive.
I do not remember exactly how old I was when I became interested in my mother’s body and her underwear. I would guess it was when I was 7 or 8. Since my mother was extremely modest, I rarely ever got the chance to see her in her lingerie and virtually never saw her nude. She was very beautiful and had a good figure in spite of all her child rearing. I was fixated on her breasts, as well as the breasts of her friends. I guess you could say I went through a "breast phase".
My earliest memories of my mother’s lingerie are of a single garment, a nylon panty girdle with a soft mesh crotch. My mother would take it off and hang it over a towel rack close to the tub in the bathroom. If I were sitting in the bathtub, it would be directly to my right. At some point while taking a bath I must have sniffed the crotch out of curiosity. I was amazed at how strong it smelled. And at times there were indescribable yellowish stains on it. I was repelled and attracted at the same time. Whatever it was, it made me feel closer to my mother and to her sex. From that first time on, I always sniffed and fondled that soft mesh crotch that had been so close to my mother’s private parts whenever I could. It was both forbidden and thrilling.
They say that anything you expend energy and attention over time grows. And my energy and attention definitely became more focused on caressing and smelling this inviting garment. Over time I graduated to rubbing my penis on that soft mesh, sometimes leaving traces of my clear arousal on the fabric. Once my father had explained "the facts of life" to my brother and me (when I was about 9), I worried that if I continued to leave my "love" juice on my mother’s girdle, it might make her pregnant. I worried about this a lot but still kept doing it. I was too young to have an orgasm. In fact I did not know what an orgasm was until much later. My father had neglected to mention that part of the "facts". But it was my mother’s scent that aroused me the most. I also liked the look and feel of that soft mesh. It seemed to beckon me whenever I saw it hanging in the bathroom.
When I was 9 or 10, my parents used to go out on Saturday night and leave us by ourselves with my older brother babysitting. He like to get into my parents liquor and drink and smoke cigarettes. He couldn’t care less what I was up to. And what was I up to? Going through my mother’s lingerie drawer in her dresser and trying on her panties, padded bras, and girdles, then going to look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. I found it strangely exciting and exhilarating to feel these very sexy things on my body and to imagine that I was looking at her in her lingerie. It is not that I wanted to be a girl. I just wanted to be close to my mother, her body, her sex, and this was the only way I knew how.
I remember one time when I went into my parent’s bedroom to say goodnight. One the chair next to the bed was a new panty girdle of a different style than the one I had grown so attached to. It was very small and looked like it would be much too small for my mother. I couldn’t help noticing and commenting about it. I asked her how she could fit into something as small as this. She said that she could fit into it because it stretches when you put it on. And to prove it, she told me to try it on. I stood there dumbfounded and embarrassed. But I did as she told me. And she was right. It was very stretchy, snug fitting, and very comfortable. My father and her just laughed seeing me in her panty girdle and I took it off. This was the one and only time that my mother or my father ever saw me in any of her lingerie.
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But I never stopped sniffing her panty girdle, and later, her white nylon briefs, the entire time I was growing up. Being raised Catholic, I guess my so-called latency period latest longer than most. As far as I knew, masturbation was not only sinful but could make you crazy. I did not have my first intentional orgasm until I was 20 years old. I was on a Catholic retreat at the time. The priests kept harping on sinfulness and how we would go to hell if we did this or did that. The only reason I went was to please my mother who saw me drifting away from the Church—which I was at the time. So to express my rebellion, I masturbated in the sink in my retreat bedroom. This was the beginning of my sexual emancipation.
We had a laundry chute in the house we moved into when I was 18. The dirty clothes would wind up in the basement where the washing machine and dryer were. I used to go down there, fish through the laundry to fine a pair of my mother’s white nylon briefs, hold them over my face and nose and masturbate while inhaling her wonderful scent. The combination of smelling her scent on her panties while becoming aroused and cumming was deeply erotic for me.
I remember that later that year (when I was 20) I had my first sexual experience with a woman 3 years older than I was and quite sexually experienced. She wanted me to put my mouth on her genitals and lick her. I did what she wanted. I was a bit scared at first. But when I became aware of her genital smell I found it attracted me. From that point on, I enjoyed kissing and licking her this way because I enjoyed the smell and the taste of her so much. I was not into her panties but I would take her nylon nightgown home with me. It smelled like her and like her sex. I hid it in the bottom drawer of my dresser. It would take it out and cover my face upper body with it and masturbate.
My interest in panties was somewhat dormant for the next four years or so. Then, when I was 24, I fell in love with a woman one year younger who was home visiting her family. I wanted to be with her so I moved to New England where she was living. I am pretty sure I sniffed her white nylon briefs before we had even had sex together. I think I was more curious to see how she smelled than anything else. I was not masturbating with her panties yet. That would come later. Somehow we got into oral sex and I started to enjoy this more than anything else. I had wonderful orgasms this way. I would usually do her first, taking her panties off as I did so. Then after she came I would hold her panties in my hand and fondle them while she sucked me. I couldn’t smell them because I did not want her to know about my interest in her panties. But when she wasn’t there I would masturbate with her briefs just like I did with my mother’s briefs, holding the heaven-scented crotch over my nose while stimulating my penis with my other hand.
We became engaged after a very short time. One of her mother’s friends sent her an engagement present consisting of some very beautiful white nylon briefs with lace inserts, and very soft brushed cotton panel in the crotch. I think they were Vanity Fair. I fell in love with these panties the moment I saw them. They were so silky, soft, and sensual. Once she wore them and I could sniff them, rubbing the soft cotton panel over my face and nose, I was completely hooked. The only problem was I was afraid she would find out about my "unusual" interest and reject me. So, after we married, I kept it secret from her for the next two years. Then I decided to let her know how much her undies turned me on. I wanted to include her undies in our lovemaking She was very critical and disapproving and wanted nothing to do with it. Six months later we separated. For the next year, I used to "borrow her undies from the hamper when I went over to visit my daughter. Sometimes the undies would be saturated with her ovulation secretions. This is when I loved them the most. I had some of the most satisfying orgasms of my life with those undies covering my face and nose. Sometimes I think I missed her undies more than I missed her.