6 comments/ 56386 views/ 3 favorites Confession of a Panty Thief By: Cicero6 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 sisters 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… Confession of a Panty Thief It's not something I am proud of, I mean if it wasn't for this thing I'd be a really good person, I mean I am a good person now, except, except when I have to do it. I guess if it wasn't such a perverted little thing I might not be considered creepy or sick. Of course there are times I wonder if the women weren't a bit flattered that I stole their panties. It all started years ago when I lived with my family in a house near a Laundromat. Each week my mother would load up the dirty clothes, toss them in some large bags, grab my hand and we'd walk. While the clothes washed and dried I got to watch the other pretty ladies washing their clothes. When the drying was done my mother would let me move the clothes from the dryers and put them in the little cart with wheels. I remember how nice the clothes smelled, almost like flowers. The towels would be so warm, my pants and shirts would be kind of rough, but mother's clothes, especially her underwear, her panties, they were so soft. I can remember how wonderful they felt on my face, the soft, shimmering fabric and the hint of lace. As I got older, mother and I would go together, but once the washing was done, she'd load up the dryers and leave me to unload them. Once I unloaded the dryers I would sneak home with the roller cart from the Laundromat. Mind you , I didn't steal the cart, I borrowed it to get the clothes home. After my mother unloaded the clothes from the cart, I'd bring it back. Of course while I waited for the clothes to dry and after I brought back the cart I had free roam of the Laundromat. It was so easy to wander past a lady folding her unmentionables, as mother started calling them, and slip one into my pocket. I'd then rush out and dive into one of my hiding places and enjoy my new trophy. I got to love the soft feel of satin and lace. When I went into high school I would volunteer to do the wash each week, so I could continue with my theft. By then I had come to appreciate the unwashed panties, though stealing those were difficult. A teenager doesn't have the liberty to move in and around the woman at a Laundromat without drawing attention. I usually found a little kid I could bribe into grabbing the panties out of the women's hampers. When I graduated from high school may parents moved away and left the house for me to live in. During the last year of school I got a part time job at the Laundromat, and while some of the women complained about missing lingerie, and about how creepy I was, my boss never did suspect me. Of course, at eighteen, while I still liked the feel of the panties on my face, there were other places on me that enjoyed the soft material. It was then, while I would make some deliveries for my boss, that I began following some of the ladies home. Then I learned how good things could be. I remember following her the first time after lifting two nicely stained pairs of panties from her laundry. It was perfect, the house next door was empty, one of those up for sale by the banks. Anyway, as she walked in the front door, I quickly ducked into the bushes next door and in a short time I watched as she put away her clothes. With one pair of her panties on my head and the other wrapped around my cock, I slowly stroked my cock. Letting the crotch of the panties run down my nose I worked my lips over the crusty dry spot and began sucking, tasting her while breathing deeply through my nose. In no time I was spurting my cum into the satin panties and onto the ground. I guess it if it ended there I wouldn't be talking to you now, I mean what's a little trespassing and peeking in windows to you guys, right. Anyway, I made it a habit of coming back, like I said it was the perfect setup, I could hide along the one house and by moving in the bushes a bit I could see through a number of her windows. For the most part I watched as she cooked, cleaned the house and sat and watched TV. Finally, one day when I was watching, someone came by in a delivery truck. I thought it was strange when he didn't have a package or anything, he just came up to the door. She let him in, immediately kissed him and then led him back into the bedroom. I had to move onto the back porch of the house next door, but there was still enough bushes to hid behind. She stepped into the bathroom and then came out naked. The man grabbed her, and pulled her onto the bed. I watched her spread her legs and he kneeled down before her, moving his head up to her pussy. She was kind of still for a while, but then started moving, pushing herself up against him. Wow, I pulled out my cock and went to town. After a while, he pulled off his shirt and pants and climbed up on the bed with her. Once again she spread her legs, this time grabbing his cock and putting it in her pussy. He then fucked her good, moving his ass back and forth. Once again she was still at the beginning, but at the end she lifted her ass up off the bed each time he shoved his cock into her, it was incredible. Hell, I came all over that back porch. I was about to leave then when it happened. I had climbed down off the porch and was heading for the front yard when a car pulled up into the driveway. I saw him look at the delivery truck, shake his head and go in the front door. Fuck, just a second later the delivery guy goes running out to his truck pulling his pants on. Took him three times to start his truck, but when he finally got it started you could hear the wheels squealing as he made a quick turn and drove away. I was still in the bushes next door when I saw them in the kitchen. He hit her, with the back of his hand and she hit the floor. He went back toward the living room, I could see in there, but when he came back he had a gun. That's when I moved through the bushed and ran out across the front yard next door. I heard a sound, a loud crack, then another one. I ran across the street and into the alley, hiding behind a trash can. The husband came out front and looked around, then went back inside. That's when I ran back through the alley and one of your buddies nabbed me. That's why I had her panties in my pockets and why you found my footprints and sperm next door. I was next door watching, but I never went into her yard, not to her door or in her house. That's the truth, I swear. ---------------------------------------- After a few moments of silence, the officer reached over and turned off the video camera. A door opened and the officer said, "We're done here, you can take him back to his cell." They then helped me up from the chair and led me out of the room. Confession of a Panty Thief Ch. 02 I lived in a Stockholm apartment for a year. The old five story building was narrow and had six units per floor - typical for the neighborhood on my street, BirgerJarlsgatan. I lived on the top floor and encountered all of the other tenants at some point during my stay. The building had its share of beauties, young and old. Most of the time I’d see them in the foyer, the bicycle room or the laundry room. The Swedes like to line dry their clothes - even in apartment buildings. Laundry rooms there have a washer and a centrifuge to spin dry the clothes before draping the items over the line. There was a big room in the basement of my building that had no less than twenty lines and almost always in use. My panty fetish was sort of put on hold when I first arrived in Sweden. I had many adjustments and was too busy to orchestrate a panty acquisition. Until about a month into my stay, that is. I pulled my clothes from the washer and placed them into the centrifuge. I noticed that a pair of cotton panties had stuck to the inside wall and were overlooked by the previous user. I ran the machine and line dried my clothes except for the panties which I crammed in my pocket and dried in my apartment. The panties were apparently not missed and the next time I did laundry made sure to look closely in the centrifuge. That had been an isolated incident and I began to scan the lines for interesting panties to borrow. The Swedes have very few hang-ups about community laundry or revealing their intimates for everyone to see. I started taking pairs for the day and returning them to the line. If the clothes were collected I would put them in a conspicuous place where the owner could find them if the item was missed. Often the panties would remain for days until I claimed them once again. As you can guess, this practice escalated into a regular habit. I had over twenty pairs at one time and no one raised a fuss. I’m not sure if I expected everyone to come to my door at once in an intervention or act like it wasn’t a problem. Sure it was! I already spoke German and Swedish was naturally growing on me. I was able to read headlines and some articles after a few months. I’m not sure why I didn’t pay attention to a sign that had been posted in the laundry room but it was there for at least a month before I took the time to decipher it. It basically read: There is a thief among us. The entire place was on the lookout while I was casually taking their panties on a regular basis. I have no idea how I got away with so many panty raids but a lot of Swedes were pissed off and wanted an end to my shenanigans. They must have narrowed the losses down to me because some of the previously friendly folk began to snub me on the stairs. It was time to move. I was subleasing the flat from someone who was subleasing it from someone else. I took my belongings and moved out without notice. I was the worst kind of scoundrel for doing so and to make matters worse, I returned most of the borrowed items - unwashed and worn. I hung the panties on one line in the drying room prior to my departure. In a sense, thumbing my nose at everyone. I kept four pairs that were of the silk and satin persuasion. Those I knew belonged to a friendly brunette on my floor. Two weeks before my return to the states, I stayed with a girl in Uppsala. She was an acquaintance of mine at Stanford and was listed in the phone book. I didn’t really know her that well but I was trying to save money and thought I would shack up with her before my flight. She turned out to be a queen bitch and we argued constantly. I would have left but the sex was great. She straddled my leg during an argument the first night and I folded. She wore a knee-length skirt with heavy cotton leggings. I was prepared to walk so I groped her with absolutely nothing to lose. It turned out to be a welcome advance as she let me pull her skirt above her waist. I remember wondering if the leggings were one piece or two different items. If so, was she wearing panties and what kind? The skirt slid up and beyond the leggings thus revealing the soft skin of her inner-thighs and up to the panties themselves. She wore dark gray cotton panties that matched the leggings. She did the honors of removing her sweater which revealed a matching bra. It was strange that she seldom wore a bra in the states but now wore one on her own turf. That bitch always sported hard nipples on her swaying jugs no matter where she went. I thought that was just a Swedish thing and now she decided to wear a bra. I made sure removing that was the first line of business. We proceeded to engage in angry sex that ended with her disappearing into her room for the rest of the night. The subsequent morning and day was always a question mark as to my departure but the sex returned in the evening along with the cigarettes and booze; she smoked like a chimney. After six days I’d had enough. She returned one night with a black man and had raucous sex in the next room just to spite me. I couldn’t care less. I stayed out of sight the next morning and after she left I ripped off every pair of her panties that I could find. Hej da Sverige! - Not long ago I was asked by my neighbors across the street to watch their house while they were in San Francisco. I agreed to feed their cat and get their paper and mail for the week. Then he gave me a key to their front door. This was not necessary since the cat lived outside and I could keep the mail and paper in a bundle until their return. I stood there holding the key as he went on and on about their travel plans. I was about to give the key back when the idea of a covert panty raid occurred to me. He has a college aged daughter that still lives with them and was going to accompany them to the Bay area. She seems very shy but has a body that always catches my eye. I didn’t realize Lisa was my height until I spoke with her recently up close. Her body reminds me of a volleyball player except not as tone. Naturally, I wondered what she wears under all those clothes and now I was going to find out. I opened the house door after they left and placed the mail directly next to the door. I poured food in the cat’s bowl outside and returned to my house. I repeated the same activity until the evening before they were scheduled to return. I couldn’t find a pen light in my house so I taped up a flashlight to emit a small ray. Then I put on an army overcoat and a fleece hat with two holes for eyes. The reason for such caution is because she has a computer whiz brother that lives with them so the chances of being monitored by some surveillance was always possible. I had no idea which room was hers and I didn’t want to be seen rummaging through the house or through her drawers. I could always deny it if video produced a masked unknown person. I waited for the sun to go down and entered the house. The moment I closed the door I pulled the hat down over my face and turned the flashlight on. I had no problem finding Lisa’s room downstairs but felt strange as I sneaked around. I saw a stack of her clean laundry that consisted of pants and shirts. The next obvious place for panties is the top drawers of her bureau. One side was socks and pantyhose. The other side was the panty drawer with a limited amount of booty. She must have taken a bulk of her panties with her on the trip. I saw three or four thongs (a surprise) and plain jane cotton briefs that seemed brand new. I rifled through the drawer and even searched the sock drawer for some more. My next search was the laundry room but it was empty. It’s as if they cleansed the place with the knowledge I’d be on the prowl! My one last look was under the bed which produced a nylon floral string bikini. These were not for swimming but were everyday panties that she’d overlooked. Score! I left the house with my new treasure and stuffed them in my sock drawer when I arrived home. The following day the neighbors showed up in two cars and unloaded their luggage. After a week, no one came to retrieve the house key so I decided I’d bring it to them. Lisa was cleaning out her car so I thought it would be exciting for me to deliver the key to her while wearing her panties under my slacks. I put them on and buttoned my pants. It would’ve been great except that I forgot about the panties the moment I walked out my door. She took the key and thanked me. I asked about her trip and she smiled and said it was nice. I acted cool and walked back into my house and poured a beer. I watched her out my kitchen window knowing she could not see me during the daylight even if she tried. She held a soapy cloth and began washing her car. I stripped off my slacks and gripped my erection through the shiny fabric of her panties. I was trying to imagine which of the panties she wore of that limited selection. There were no panty lines to speak of which led me to believe she was wearing a thong or nothing at all under her capri pants. I pulled my cock out the side of her panties and began to slather it with astro glide and felt an orgasm building. Then she disappeared around the opposite side of the car. I decided to look through binoculars but couldn’t hold them still enough. Eventually she worked her way back around to my side of the car and squatted down to clean the wheels. Her pants were low cut enough to see she indeed wore a white and blue thong - one of the ones I remember seeing in her drawer. I set the binoculars down and scrambled to find a cloth or towel but to no avail. I came furiously into my empty beer cup. Afterward I felt weird and questioned my depravity. Of course, that wears off in no time and I’m ready for another panty adventure. One of my more brazen panty exploits involved my ex-girlfriend’s roommate. She and my girlfriend had graduated college while I was still in my sophomore year. They worked full-time while I fucked off and pretended to study. My girlfriend at the time was a mutual friend before we dated. She was cute and I knew she had a hot roommate so I dated with hopes of being introduced to the hottie. It took very little time to realize her roommate was not my type and we seldom spoke. Soon after I was told she was advising my girlfriend to dump me. I didn’t take that lightly so what’s a guy to do? I took it out on her panties, of course. Before my afternoon class I would let myself into their apartment and head straight for Justine’s closet. Her drawers contained a variety of undergarments. She had every kind of panty including crotchless and rubber. She also had garter belts and half bras that let the nipples do as they please. I came across a vibrator and some other novelties that were top secret for sure. I knew that half of the items were probably given to her by Mr. Moneybags that she saw every now and then. He was essentially her boss and almost twice her age. They had to keep that affair under strict wraps. I decided to put on her entire ensemble that day. It started with an off-white pair of satin panties and matching bra. Then came the thigh high pantyhose and the garter belt. I had to adjust the garters and redundantly attach them to the self supporting pantyhose. The hose had plastic shields on the inner-thighs that were suppose to ease the friction as the legs rub together in stride, I guess. Her shoes were too small and so were her dresses. I looked incomplete so I partially filled two condoms with water and tied them off in order to stuff in the bra. I borrowed an oversized T-shirt and climbed into her bed with some lotion and several other panties and slips. The dress up had amounted to foreplay as my cock was about to burst. I laid on my back and inched the shirt up to emulate a strip tease. The panties had stretched and given way to my cock as it throbbed and pulled. I felt myself inching irreversibly toward ejaculation so I unsnapped the garters and dropped the panties to my knees. I turned over on my hands and knees and came with precision into the cotton lining of the panties. I carefully removed them and rubbed the semen uniformly in the lining and stuffed them in my backpack. I disrobed and put everything back in order before leaving their apartment. Once I was home I hung the panties to dry and softened the hardened lining when they were ready. The next day the panties were back in the rightful drawer and I repeated the process to another pair. Four pairs in all would be soiled and returned to her drawer in the end. It brought a smile to my face when I’d see her after that. I’m sure she wonders to this day what was so goddamn funny. TO BE CONTINUED!