CHP 1 — IN WHICH MICKY BUYS SOME DIRTY KNICKERS FROM ROSY.
My name is Micky Feather. I have recently completed fifty revolutions of the solar system. I am a long-time divorcee, with a distant son, and severely aged parents. I work nights as a security guard in a biscuit factory. When not guarding biscuits, I pass the time watching television with a small black cat in a one bedroom apartment block overlooking a motorway. But then this happened.
Early one night, during the first of my many lone patrols through the odious oat smelling factory, whilst vaping into an extractor fan in the corner of the darkened R&D lab, on a sudden and unexpected middle-aged whim, I Googled the phrase ‘used underwear for sale’. And moments later, having arrived at the most reputable looking of the many sites listed, I found myself gazing wide eyed in awed wonder at an image of a pair of plain pink cotton panties covering the tiny perfect peachy arse of a nineteen year old Spanish student going by the name of Rosy Glow. From that moment I was lost.
The images that Rosy had on her page, advertising a wide variety of desirable intimate items, suitable for sniffing, licking, anointing, and all sorts of fun spells, were of the most skilled presentation — Rosy’s body being somehow stolen from the dreams I’d had every night of my life; with every single perfect curve leading to an impossibly fuckable hole.
As with most used underwear sellers, Rosy opted to keep her face concealed — the small brunette hints at the outer limits of a few of the images being assurance enough that Rosy was as cute as she was hot.
Following a quick background Google of Miss Glow — revealing little but a reference to a mythical type of stoneless cherry and the reddening of some unrelated cheeks — in a fog of excitement, hardly able to believe that the dirty knickers I was about to purchase were really gonna be creamed and sweated in by this bona fide goddess, I tapped out a message and hit send; initiating a text exchange that would change me forever.
ME: “Hi there! Perfect Spanish pussy in perfect pink knickers! How can I resist? If you smell as good as you look (wow!) I could very easily become a regular customer. I would love a pair of these, please – all nice and sweaty with plenty of cum. Let me know about payment and delivery times. Thanks. Micky.”
ROSY: “Hello Micky!! First of all thanks for the compliment, you’re so sweet. How many days would you like me to wear them for you baby?? Rosy x”
M: “Hello Rosy. 24hrs would be just right.”
R: “Okay, just 24hrs or do you want any extras? I can wank in them or go to the gym if you want.”
M: “Just so long as they’re sweaty and wet I’ll be a happy old man xxx”
R: “That’s good, it will be £20. I can start wearing them for you tomorrow morning, and then post them to you the next day. Let me know what you think. x”
M: “I think that sounds like a bingo! Let’s go for it Rosy. I’ll transfer the cash now. Can’t wait maltepe escort to smell your pussy nectar. Micky x”
R: “Brilliant, thank you!”
M: “Beautiful, can’t wait x”
Just as I was arriving home the following morning, fit for nothing but a quick smoke followed by sleep, Rosy sent me a photograph of her sleepy little bottom, fresh out of bed, newly wearing the selected pants, ready for a hard sweaty day. Opening the image on my phone the word Manchester appeared at the top of screen. Swiping up, a tiny flag indicated the exact spot in the exact building in the exact street where she had taken the photograph!
I thought long and hard about whether to mention this security breach to Rosy, but ultimately decided not to worry about it until later. After all, it was a question of ultra-modern ethics, posed at the speed of light on the information super highway — the answer being pants! Lovely, lovely pants! This Spanish girl was looking like she was gonna smell delicious!
That morning I fell asleep to the image of Rosy’s taut little bum, with those wonderful knickers half wedged between her super biteable cheeks – the very knickers that would soon be flooding my brain with stinky delight — the delicate arc of her spine subsumed by pink cotton . . .
The following morning Rosy sent me a picture of an envelope being posted in a mailbox.
R: “They’re posted!! Here’s the proof. Let me know when you get them x”
M: “Thanks Rosy, I’ll let you know xo”
Wednesday was a struggle not to grin and giggle the whole way through my working night – including the cab-ride home.
After eight hours concealing my ill intent, I arrived at the shop at the end of my road, bought a few supplies and walked the rest of the way home, humming Singin’ in the Rain and clicking my heels together, high on the anticipation of an imminent visit from the mailman with his unsuspecting sack.
And, as if by design, just as I turned the last corner on my landing, there at my door, with a very judgemental look on his face, was the mailman completing his task; the familiar envelope just glimpsed as it disappeared through the letterbox. “Thanks,” I said, as he left in a mutter of disgust.
Once changed out of my biscuit smelling uniform and settled on the sofa, cat confined to the kitchen, I then commenced to unseal the envelope and delicately withdraw the vacuum sealed enclosure containing Rosy’s waded up pink cotton panties from within. Taking a pair of scissors I reverentially broke the final seal and took hold of the slightly damp material that sprang out at me with the change in air pressure. And then it hit me.
At that moment the whole world changed – reality shifted into a cotton soft realm of purest teenaged vagina. Rosy’s pussy smelt like nirvana. I achieved a state of enlightenment with a single inward breath; every nuance like a further level of wonderful music, swamping me in sweaty wet creamy perfection; the smell of her tasty young cunt escort maltepe like crack cocaine. As I breathed in I could feel myself drifting . . .
I imagined walking into my bedroom and finding Rosy standing facing the wall, arms folded behind her back, naked but for the self-same panties that were currently pressed against my face. I imagined telling her to stand with her legs further apart, and her complying. Standing behind her I push my hand up between her arse cheeks and then move down, grinding hard between her legs, pressing the gusset of her knickers right up between her labia, my fingers circling her whole being in a scanning pattern of intense sensation — my other hand pulling her back towards me, pressing against her belly, rising up across her pert trembling nipples, caressing her throat and face. As I continue to vigorously rub her pussy through the creamed up gusset of her saturated knicker’s she lets out a pained growl, which I take as the cue to bypass her knicker’s and force two fingers right up inside her soaking wet cunt, at the same time with my other hand grabbing the back of her head by her dark perfumed hair and pulling her down; pressing hard against her g-spot; her pussy now too wet for her knickers to contain; cum dribbling down her thighs. Then, like lightning, I turn her around and bend her over the bed; fingers still jammed against her special place; face pushed into the mattress. Then I rip my fingers out of her pussy, yank her filthy panties down to her knees, and instantly fill her with my cock; cum everywhere . . .
From somewhere I could hear a cat meowing. With huge effort I returned to present day reality and removed Rosy’s magical vision inducing panties from my face. Wow . . . taking a few moments to recover, I quickly fed the cat, and then immediately returned to contemplating the pants — flicking through the most stimulating images on Rosy’s page as I did so. Breath in.
Rosy lies on her back on my bed, her face concealed by her hair, her arms by her sides, her legs stretched wide apart, her clearly soaking knicker’s half exposing her pleasingly hairy cunt. In a flash I pull her gusset aside and begin to maul her juicy little slit, which is so wet my finger’s quickly disappear noisily right up inside her. As she squeals and growls, struggling hard against her desperate need to cum all over my hand, her tight little Spanish fuck-hole bucks and aches with a yearning need to be made sloppy and fevered by the perverted lust of a filthy old knicker sniffer. I tell her to get her knees back by her shoulders, and her arse up in the air. The moment she is in position I pull her sticky panties far enough down that the dripping gusset is hovering over her face, then before she has time to take a breath I press the head of a powerful vibrator hard against her helpless clit — her glistening blurred lips trembling wide apart — causing her petite little body to instantly contract in a paroxysm of orgasmic paralysis, made all the more intense and maltepe escort bayan inescapable by the tip of my finger spearing her dilating anus. The sounds Rosy makes seem to come from another dimension . . .
Realising that the day was wearing on, I emailed my line manager and excused myself from that night’s shift. Then I messaged Rosy.
M: “Just wanted to let you know, I received your amazing panties!! Wow! and, WOW!! You smell beyond fantastic! I will definitely be ordering again. Really incredible. Thank you x”
R: “OMG I am really glad you like them!! If you could give me that as a review it would be super helpful! Enjoy my panties and come back whenever you need anything else, I’m glad they didn’t disappoint you!! Thanks for letting me know! xx”
M: “Just amazing Rosy. I’ll do a review for you tonight, and you will 100% be hearing from me again – just love your scent. Micky xxx”
R: “You are so sweet, thank you! Enjoy them and thanks for the review.”
Over the next few days, as I breathed deep the heady aroma of Rosy’s sweaty little kitty hole, devouring the subtle tang of her enlivening creamy allure, I wondered how it was possible that the mere scent of this unknown woman’s magical cunt could have such a massive impact on me. Who Was she?
Slowly Rosy’s dirty panties lost their charge — but that is not to say they were without power.
The doorbell rang. I tucked Rosy’s knickers under a cushion and walked into the hall. Looking out of the spyhole I couldn’t see anyone. But then the bell chimed again. So, curious, I opened the door. And before I knew what was happening, a tiny woman in a stylish raincoat and wide brimmed hat pushed past me and disappeared into the living room. Following close behind I arrived to find my mysterious visitor standing silhouetted against a window; the hat on the sofa. I knew just what to do.
“Coat off,” I commanded, “Come on. On the floor. Bend over.”
Rosy immediately complied, losing the coat to reveal her pert little body, standing exposed in nothing but her pink cotton panties, which I could sense, even from the opposite side of the room, were more than a little messed up already. As she sank to the floor and bent over – face to the ground, arse in the air, holes and legs wide apart — I could smell the intoxicating reek of her cunt pulling me towards her like a sweaty tractor beam. This was the moment for a good hard fucking. Grasping the waistband of Rosy’s knicker’s I pulled them definitively down over her mesmerizing arse, opened her pussy with my fingers, and slid the entire length of my frighteningly hard cock into her tight little creamy hole in a single aching thrust. Then I fucked her deep and mercilessly, gripping her by her perfect shoulder’s, before spreading her wider and wider with my palm’s pressed down on her heavenly buttocks, stirring her up until her legs lost the strength to support her and she collapsed in a tiny pile of beautiful suffering, trembling and dripping on my living room floor . . .
Back at work, I drifted through the nights, blind to any possible threats to the precious biscuits, happily dreaming about Rosy Glow’s magnificent cunt. And wondering what underwear I might have her cum in next time.