Their panties on my nose

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Karen Eliot

When I was a student, I shared a house in West London with four other females, all of us student teachers.

It was the first time I'd been around so many other sexually active, energetic, funny women. And the first time I was able to explore my own sexuality to its fullest.

We took our household chores in turn, and one morning as I loaded the washing machine I noticed one housemate's cute little black lace panties, a creamy smear running along the centre of the cotton gusset. Almost unconsciously I put the panties to my face and breathed deeply, letting the smells of her pussy full my nostrils. My clit tingled.

This became something of a habit. Whenever it was my turn to do the washing, or when alone in the house with the laundry to myself, I would inhale the sweaty odor of Jan's netball knickers, fresh from a previous night's match.

I would finger the cum stains from Marianne's white g-strings, left when her boyfriend's sperm had dribbled from her cunt over night.

Julie's large red cotton panties would smell of dribbles of piss, and I would hold them across my face while fingering my own pussy.

I would bring my own fingers to my mouth and nose, a habit I've never lost, loving the smell of my own cunt, the stickiness of my discharge, the mushroomy smell of a man's spunk on my fingers after sex.

There have been many times when the smell and taste of sex on the cotton lining of a pair of used panties has given me relief.

Confessing here has not only been the first time I've told this story, but has also made me rather puffy all over again.