TJ
“Used panties.”
I bite my lip as I type the words into the search box and click on the familiar website I’ve been going to for ages to satisfy my cravings.
I check my office door to make sure it is locked before I sink into my leather chair and start browsing through the offers. I need something pink. Something cute … but sassy. Something fiery and so damn wrong. Just like me.
What?
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to sniff panties.
A man has needs. Mine are just a bit more … outrageous.
It’s not a problem. No one’s getting hurt. As long as nobody knows, of course … because I’m sure my ass would be the first on the line.
I had my trusty door lock installed for this exact reason—so no one could come snoop on my serious business. Hey, a guy like me has to get his fix from somewhere, right?
I know, I know. Get laid.
Fuck some pussy.
Lick a clit.
That’s what all the other guys do, and I agree, it’s fantastic. But as amazing as having sex with a woman is, nothing can compare to smelling their scent on their panties. Nothing.
Which is why I have a drawer full of them at home.
Maybe it’s a stupid idea to search for some new ones here at the office, but I can’t help myself. Whenever I’m stressed out, I just need to distract myself by giving myself something nice. What can I say? I’m a self-enabler. Guilty as charged.
Still, as a man in my position, it can get quite dangerous at times.
Being the CEO of a company comes with the necessary levels of stress that I need to deflect, which I do … by sniffing panties.
Just your average hobby. Nothing more.
I smile as I come across pages and pages of delicious panties, but nothing looks even remotely like what I’m looking for. Rubbing my lips together, I wonder whether today is not my day. I’m not willing to give up yet, though. I still have cravings to satisfy.
So I click away and find a new website. I haven’t been to this site before, and I don’t recognize it. It’s new. And when I open the page, the first thing I notice is that just one person runs it.
A girl, nonetheless. And she has a collection of panties for sale that could make any man’s tongue drop.
Fuck.
Sweet pink, canary yellow, ocean blue, fiery red … in all the crazy fabrics. She’s got them all.
“Mother of God,” I mutter, leaning in as I grasp my laptop tight. “I’ve hit the mother lode.”
A girl with a slightly curvy, streamlined body, thin but with a perky butt … in the most perfect pair of panties I’ve ever seen. And she’s posted the most mouthwatering pictures.
Deal.
I don’t even have to check the price. I don’t care.
I’m so damn easy to persuade.
When I see something I want, I go for it, no matter the cost. And hot damn … do I want to smell that pussy on those panties, I think to myself as I stare at that perfect pair of pink see-through panties on her round butt.
Licking my top lip, I search for a buy button, but I find nothing except a contact form. I shrug. I have no problem emailing her to get the job done. Nothing breaks the uncomfortable barrier quite like talking directly to the girl responsible for your jerk-off even though you know you’ll never meet her in person.
Is it shady?
Is it all kinds of wrong?
Hell fucking yes, but you know what they say about addicts … nothing will get in the way of their fix.
And if this is my addiction, then so be it. At least it won’t kill me, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
I open the contact form and start typing away.
From: [email protected]
Hello,
I’m interested in buying some of your panties. If I’m happy with your service, I’ll probably buy more too.
I like the pink lace. Do you have a sample for me? More pictures? More options?
I’m curious to find out more about the story behind them as well if you’re willing to divulge.
Looking forward to your answer,
Panty Sniffing Boss
I smirk.
Yeah, thought up that little gem all by myself.
It’s not like I can just come out with my name and let the whole damn world know I’m a pervert, now can I? I need to be undercover. Subtle and secretive. Like a ninja.
No one knows anything about me. Or at least, nothing I don’t want them to know. Like this, for example. Only one person has found out, and it didn’t end well. Suffice to say, I learned my lesson the hard way. Never share your private secrets with anyone, and make sure they never find out without you knowing it either. It stops everyone from getting hurt.
What I want is to just be able to give in to my desires without anyone judging, but since that’s not an option, I’ll take doing it in full secrecy instead. I always ship the packages to my home after ordering them via a secure proxy, so no one will find out it was me.
Who knows where the panties come from. I don’t, that’s for sure.
The sellers don’t say who they are or where they live.
That’s just how it goes. No personal information is exchanged because you never know what might happen. Some dirty perv might end up snooping around on their porch. Nope, that’d be a sure thing I’d want to avoid, so I completely understand.
But it is strange, though … I mean, those panties could come from anyone.
Even my next-door neighbor.
Or that hot chick from the deli store down the block.
That’d be a wet dream. I grin.
Suddenly, the familiar jingle of my email pulls me from my thoughts. An email just came in … from the panty girl.
“Wow, you’re quick,” I mumble as I open the email.
From: [email protected]
Hi there,
Yes, of course. I’ve included some pictures of the pink lace underwear. If you meant a different one, let me know, and I’ll send over some pics. I have different colors of the same type too. I can sell you a set.
I can tell you more about when I wore them and what I did, but I don’t know what you’re looking for. Do you have anything specific you want to know? These pink ones were worn on a day out to the mall. I had them on for an entire day.
As for the price, it’s $30 for one, $50 for three, and you can have eight for $100. You can send the money to this email via PayPal.
Have a great day,
Pantylicious
Whoa, this girl is up in her business, and for an individual running that type of website, it’s impressive. Does she do this often? I wonder.
“Interesting,” I mumble, typing back my response.
From: [email protected]
Hey,
Awesome. Looks great. I’d love to have three of those. Can you include the pink one and 2 other colors? I’ve sent the money to your PayPal.
Also … what do you do for a living? And what do you look like?
Three. Maybe I should’ve picked the option that includes eight. I’m not sure three will do.
I mean … with all these products launching simultaneously and having to pitch every single one to the shareholders really pulls a number on your stress levels.
So I’m gonna need to fill up my dirty drawer to the brim.
From: [email protected]
I’m sorry, but what does my profession have to do with you buying my panties?
Thanks for the money.
Feisty. I like that …
From: [email protected]
If I’m going to buy panties from a girl, it’d better be legal. Plus, it helps with the fantasy, you know?
Besides, if I like what you have to offer, I might be interested in buying more, but that all depends on the fantasy you’re willing to sell.
PS: I like your fire. Redhead?
Her reply is almost instant.
From: [email protected]
No. Medium length, dark blond hair. I’m a Caucasian in her twenties, college grad. Just a regular girl trying to make a buck.
Any other private information you wish to be privy to?
I’ll send your package out today; I’ll let you know when I have a tracking code.
PS: If we’re going to go back and forth like this, we might as well talk in a chat. That is if you’re interested in buying more of the goods. You can reach me on Twitter: @Pantylicious
Well, fuck me. First base already.
I smirk. She’s bold. I like that. Not afraid to go after what she wants, which is obviously money, and that’s okay. I have plenty.
I start my Twitter and create a new account using the same email I have for buying panties, and I go to her profile to send a DM.
Pantysniffer3000: Well, this is much easier. But I am curious why you chose to give me your Twitter. Things like that could be dangerous for you.
Pantylicious: Should I be scared now?
Pantysniffer3000: No, of course not. You can trust me.
Pantylicious: Great. Because you know what happens if that turns out to be a lie.
I narrow my eyes. What happens? Is this a threat? It only makes me more interested in her. Probably not the reaction she was hoping for.
Pantysniffer3000: Amuse me.
Pantylicious: I have your email. If you do anything against the law, I can show it to the cops.
Pantysniffer3000: You’re selling me your panties … I think this is a two-way street.
Pantylicious: Fine. I’ll trust you if you trust me.
Pantysniffer3000: I have no other choice, now do I? You already have my payment, so you have all the information you need from me.
Pantylicious: Don’t think I care enough to find out who you are.
Pantysniffer3000: Aww, you hurt my feelings.
Pantylicious: You can get in line with the other million dudes.
Pantysniffer3000: So angry. Do you want to chase me away? You’ll be missing out on all that $$ you definitely want
Pantylicious: What do you want? I’m already sending you my panties.
Pantysniffer3000: Relax, I don’t wanna marry you. I just want to get to know the story behind the panties.
Pantylicious: There’s not a lot to know. They’re cotton. Probably made in China. What else can I say?
She’s so damn bold. I love it.
I don’t know why, but she’s the first girl in ages that I really wanna talk to. Like, for some reason … her starting this business on her own and working her ass off makes me feel connected to her. Much more than I do with the other girls. They feel anonymous on that website. Not real. But she … she’s different. Tangible. Like she’s only a few blocks away, lying on her bed in a tank top and chatting away on her laptop while eating candy bars.
I probably just have an overactive imagination.
Pantysniffer3000: I get it. You don’t like talking about yourself. Totally not to any random stranger. I totally get it. I’m just … sorry.
I sigh. Maybe I should’ve thought this through.
Pantylicious: I understand. It’s okay. We all have this urge to talk to random people sometimes.
Pantysniffer3000: Yeah, exactly. Except you’re the girl I happen to be buying panties from. Which makes it awkward.
Pantylicious: Nothing awkward about it. I do it all the time.
Pantysniffer3000: Get a lot of customers?
Pantylicious: Sorta. Not bucket loads, but it pays for my college loans, which is nice.
Pantysniffer3000: I gotta hand it to you, that’s a smart move. Selling these through dubious sites must be challenging but worth the effort. I wish I’d thought up something that smart when I graduated college.
Pantylicious: What do you do then?
Pantysniffer3000: Interested in me now, huh?
Pantylicious: You pried into my life, so now I get to pry into yours. Spill.
Pantysniffer3000: Fine. I’ve got a standard douchebag haircut, cheesy grin, and I’m a corporate asshole. That’s what others call my job anyway. I also like big butts, and I cannot lie. Satisfied?
Pantylicious: Funny. I like that.
Pantysniffer3000: Is this the part where I ask you out on a date?
Pantylicious: Keep dreaming.
Pantysniffer3000: It was worth a try.
Is it wrong that I’m sitting here with a big-ass smile on my face? Maybe. But I don’t care. I wanna know more about this girl. Why she’s venturing out on her own. Why she chose to do this instead of some other regular job, like, I don’t know … being a waitress. She’s different. She has a “take no shit” attitude and gets to the point. Something I admire.
Pantylicious: A corporate asshole looking to date the girl who sells him panties. Interesting story.
Pantysniffer3000: You’re not the first to think that.
Pantylicious: Oh, really? Tell me more.
Pantysniffer3000: Maybe some other time. The truth is, I’m much more interested in why you decided selling panties was the way to go when it came to making money.
Pantylicious: I’m not the waitress type. Besides, this is like having a company.
Pantysniffer3000: So you want your own company someday?
Pantylicious: Maybe. I like the idea of being my own boss.
Pantysniffer3000: Have to agree with that. But you gotta be cut out for it. Being the boss might sound like fun, but it’s a lot of responsibility.
Pantylicious: Hey, if you’re not happy with your job, then I’ll gladly take it.
I laugh. Maybe I should take her up on the offer. It would take some much-needed work off my shoulders. Then again … she’s inexperienced. But I still can’t help but play along.
Pantysniffer3000: You think you can handle this job? I’d like to see you try.
Pantylicious: Don’t underestimate me. You don’t know me.
Pantysniffer3000: Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.
Pantylicious: I’m a marketing major. I know how to handle a business.
Pantysniffer3000: Oh … interesting. So you’re planning to start working for a bigger company soon? I imagine selling panties isn’t your end goal.
Pantylicious: Damn right, it isn’t. This is just a step-up. All I need is to get an internship to get the hang of it, and then I’m starting my own legit business.
Pantysniffer3000: Internship? Nice. Already applied for a spot?
Pantylicious: I’m trying, but there’s some dude who won’t stop talking to me on Twitter.
Pantysniffer3000: Ha-ha, good one.
Pantylicious: Laugh all you want, but one day, everyone will be jealous of my company. You just wait. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet at some corporate party. You’ll never know it was me.
Pantysniffer3000: Maybe I can smell it’s you.
Pantylicious: Awkward. Like that would ever happen.
Pantysniffer3000: Wanna bet?
Pantylicious: Ha, sure. Good luck. There are billions of people on the planet.
Pantysniffer3000: But only one of them has your email.
Pantylicious: This is about smelling lady bits. Not emails.
Pantysniffer3000: Oh, I know.
She doesn’t realize it yet, but the moment she accepted my bet, it was game on for me. I like a challenge.
Pantylicious: You know I can cancel the panty order any time, right?
Pantysniffer3000: Please don’t. Besides, you need the money, and I need the panties. It’s a win-win situation.
Pantylicious: Okay … Do you wanna order anything else?
Pantysniffer3000: No, I’m good. Let me know when you get the tracking code.
Pantylicious: Sure thing.
I close Twitter and go about my business, but my conversation with that girl keeps haunting me. When I check in a few hours later, she’s already sent me the tracking code. A package filled with sweet, sexy panties is on the way.
And I can’t stop myself from immediately using her email to search for her online. Is it sneaky? Yes. But I’m too obsessed to listen to that little voice in my head telling me I’m wrong for doing this. I just wanna find out who she is. Where she’s at. What she looks like. What her favorite movies and books are. What she likes to eat for breakfast.
It doesn’t take me long to find that information either.
Somehow, on an obscure website, her old email address still lingers, where she mentions switching over to a new, anonymous one. So I use the old email to find her Facebook profile, and bam … I’ve got a hit in just minutes.
Not too bad for some half-assed detective work.
Guess she didn’t think about covering her tracks. Or maybe she just thought no one would be interested enough to find out.
But oh boy, when I find her pictures … real pictures … I’m smitten.
A pretty face hides underneath soft, blond hair, the perfect flush on her cheeks. Her smile is so damn bright it could light the room. And her curves … ouch, they’re so hot that I’m on fire from just looking at her.
Beautiful is an understatement.
I’m flabbergasted. Just blown away that a girl like her sells panties to online strangers.
Who’d have thought?
Damn, I’m seriously impressed. When I look through the pictures of her not only drinking and partying with friends but also hard at work on her laptop, I get the sense she lives out loud and loves life.
And that seductive look in her eyes makes me choke up.
Goddamn, TJ, keep it together.
I click away from her pictures and back to her profile, still not capable of stopping myself from snooping. In her posts, she talks about her classes and the work she’s doing with her ‘secret’ new business. And then she made a post three minutes ago about her job application, and how she just sent it in with Morrows.
My company.
My inbox bleeps.
I click on the notification and stare at the email in complete shock.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Application – Internship
It’s her.
Panty girl, applying for an internship at my company.
A grin slowly spreads across my face.
This is going to be interesting.