Heaven On Cotton.

Light yellow. The same colour as a watery winter sun, edged with a thin border of white lace and with a tiny, cute yellow silk bow on the front at the waistband. They felt recently worn, in that the crotch was still moist, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. 

Let’s start with who these panties belong to. No, not Emily. Not Dani either. These belong to my sister Alison. Ali, as I know her. The outside of the crotch is visibly stained, discoloured…showing evidence of dampness. I run my finger over the very centre of the crotch, right where her camel toe would be. Ali had very full labia, and shows a camel toe in panties easily, and in bikinis too. No wonder she gets admiring, inquisitive glances in swimming pools and on the beach. 

Having homes as large and well-equipped as ours, there’s a risk of not going out much. A risk that stifles opportunity, since by staying home we deny ourselves those wonderful chance encounters that simply can’t happen if one stays home.

I bring them to my nose and inhale slowly. Very, very slowly. I used to rush this. Breathing in way too fast which somehow pollutes the experience. You need to let the scents drift almost lazily into your nose. Only then can you analyse the myriad of complexities that make up a woman’s scent. There’s the normal vaginal discharge which is not overly sexual at all, it’s designed to clean rather than arouse, but surrounding that is that fresh musk or feminine arousal. I have no doubt whatsoever that Ali has masturbated in these. This is not just her feeling horny in them I’m certain. She did something about it. 

Which leads me to the inside. Dried girl cum? Certainly, there’s some of that at the edges, but in the centre is a rich seam of moisture that speaks only of orgasm. As I breathe her in, I close my eyes and Miss Brain flicks through some images from my past. Me watching Ali masturbate to orgasm from doing it fully clothed, to doing it in her panties, to doing it naked in front of me. Ali cumming on my fingers…or tongue….Ali gripping my head and pulling it hard against her. This is where I learned that, initially at least, my sister didn’t squirt, but she did flood, even if only in a very restrained way. It took months for her to fully relax into her orgasms…to give herself permission to dive, naked and uninhibited into the heady swirl of orgasm, to moan, to scream, to swear. 

I’m wet too now. For a moment, I consider putting Ali’s panties on. The thought appeals to me strongly. Oh the times young girls are taught to never,  absolutely never put dirty panties on, much less the used panties of anyone else. But oh, how delicious it is if you are a lesbian or bi-sexual girl to have the wetness of another girl against you where your own wetness can meet and commune with that of the panty owner. 

The number of times….I couldn’t count them…that girls in my year group walked from the locker room to their next lesson with my wetness mingled with theirs. My girl cum against their sex. Hidden and forbidden pleasures indeed. 

So, I look around. There is one other pair. Not quite as wet, but certainly still slightly moist. Two pairs in one day, then? Yes, that’s my sister. Ali changes her panties two, three or four times a day. Like all girls she checks them when she goes for a pee, and if they’re too stained, a new pair is brought out and put on. 

I quickly shed my own undies. Dark green today and, oops, yes, really squishy down there. I step into Ali’s panties but have to force myself to slow down. Take your time, Anna, enjoy it. Savour the badness of what you’re doing. I take a deep slow breathe to Centre myself, and slowly s-l-o-w-l-y pull them up. I pause just before the crotch of the panties touches my sex before closing my eyes and going the last few millimeters. 

The coolness of them doesn’t last long, but the mental image…the knowledge that Ali’s sex is now against mine makes me slightly dizzy. It’s always been like this. The naughtier what I’m doing is, the little off-balance feeling that comes with it. 

I pick up the other pair. The scent’s aren’t quite as evident on these, but they are still, unmistakably, my sister’s panties. I kiss the inside of the crotch and breathe out onto it through my nose. Why through my nose? Because it carries the moisture I need without transferring any of my breath scents - or at least - not much of them. 

Alison. My sister. Ali. A girl I’ve had sex with numerous times. A girl I’ve fingered, licked and sucked. A girl I’ve done things with some may call depraved, and yet how I’ve loved every moment. 

I’m pouring with wetness now and aroused way beyond my capacity to resist. I slip my hand into her panties and find my clit. The first, light touch makes me moan her name. “Oh, Ali…..” I suck the crotch of her panties now, and my whole head seems to fill with her intimate scents. They’re all there, her arousal, her natural wetness, even her piss. Miss Brain reminds me of that first time in the shower in my bathroom when I lived at home. We were in the early stages of our exploration. (Sexploration?) We had got very hot and sweaty during the night and we had decided to have a shower. Why together, I don’t know. We hadn’t decided to have sex in the shower, it just….happened. Before we even turned the water on we were hugging and kissing which led to touching, and I had knelt before her while she leaned back against the wall with her legs apart, knees slightly bent and I sucked her off. At the moment she came, she had peed involuntarily. So many girls do when they finally give themselves permission to really let orgasms take them fully and completely. The eroticism of the moment simply can’t be described….or maybe it can and I just lack the skill. 

It wasn’t that she peed on me, it was that she trusted me enough to lower all her guards. And so I came into Ali’s panties, while inhaling her vagina on her panties. The orgasm, as they always are when standing, shook me to my core. I squirted heavily enough to make the crotch of the panties I was wearing fill and bulge away from me before the wetness oozed through the cotton and down my inner thighs. 

I let it take me fully and unresisting. There comes a moment in an orgasm when the intensity of it slackens a fraction, and you think “Oh, that’s it. I’m stopping now.” But if you can train yourself to ignore it, you find there are further peaks to enjoy beyond the initial one. 

My eyes were tightly closed, of course, and my blood was rushing in my ears, so intense was the orgasm, that I didn’t hear Ali put the camera down, or walk across the room towards me. But I did feel her arms around me, and I did feel her soft kiss on my neck. She took my hand and led me to her bathroom. 

Her words seemed to caress me as they hung, half whispered in the air. “Now, it’s my turn to clean you up.”