My Wet Panties

From the first emergence of puberty in my peer group, the talk was centred on boobs,  pubes, periods and…and what we crudely called ‘panty-pudding’, that thick discharge that we get that is so different to the thin, watery discharge that went, barely noticed before. 

I wonder if there’s a link between being a squirter and being wet most of the time? What I do know is some girls reached immediately for panty-liners, and for a while there was some kudos to be had from being a girl who needed them. 

I also needed them, but hated the feeling of them. They felt unnatural to me, not to mention scratchy to the point of irritation. I also felt like they were there to hide something unclean, dirty, unnatural. So, almost as soon as I tried them, I discarded them and in some doing discovered something wonderful. I like being wet. I adore the feeling of it, and the scent of it. 

Listening to my friends as they branched out into sexual activity, I would hear things like, “Oh my God! He got me so wet!” There was never a curled lip and certainly no-one added a ‘yuck” to the sentence. I remember once throwing in, “Oh God yes! I love it when a boy gets me really wet like that.” This prompted a chorus of, “Oh yeah…me too.” So, this wetness then. It’s ok to feel it sometimes? Then why not all the time. 

When I wear panties, the first thing that I see that strikes me as sexy will start me off. It might be nothing more than Dani flashing me a smile first thing in the morning, usually accompanied by some kind of naughty thought from Miss Brain. Dani might be putting some warmed croissants onto a plate and Miss Brain will remind me that those fingers had probably been between her legs last night, and if I’m in the right frame of mind, she will add “What if she deliberately didn't wash her hands. What if, secretly, she’s getting off on watching you eat her wetness of that croissant?” Miss Brain can be a real bitch sometimes. 

Whatever, as I go through my day, I get wetter and wetter. I adore the slick feeling of my panties sliding over me, and on days when I don’t wear any, the wetness will get onto my upper inner thighs before it evaporates. I know I can smell myself, and I know others can too. Bequeathing my scent to someone during the day is a major turn on for me. I see the widening of eyes, or the flaring of nostrils, or maybe even the turning of a head towards me as I waft past my chosen person. Male or female. 

Back home, I take my panties off, and, like every girl since the dawn of time, I take a look in the crotch. I wonder why we do that? Checking for an unexpected period? Must be something, because we know that, to a greater or lesser extent, we will have creamed out panties. Sometimes that leads me to dirty thoughts. Sometimes not. As I said, I love my own scent and taste. I have lain on a bed, masturbating furiously sucking my own panty crotch before now. 

Once, and once only, I found a pair of Dani’s panties on the stairs. They’d obviously fallen from an armful of laundry she’d been carrying. Her scent while inarguably vaginal, is, like all girls, subtly different from mine. Emily’s scent is subtly different too. 

I remember the first time Emily asked to watch me masturbate. She wanted to watch how I liked being touched, and I loved her so much for asking. I had asked for her panties. I didn’t go right into smelling them or licking her off them. For quite a while I simply held them in my free hand knowing they had been next to her intimate area all day was highly intoxicating. When finally I allowed myself to smell her on them, the scent of her vagina filled my soul. Scents are complex things - ask any perfume maker. They are layered. So much of this, so much of that. And it’s the same with vaginal essence too. There is sweetness and sharpness, flowery, meadow with a slightly acidic underlying tone and often almost so faint it’s close to being undetectable.

When I smell Emily’s panties, it makes me cum. Every single time. 

We have both sat in a chair and in total silence, watched the other masturbate to orgasm. We’ve watched each other just use fingers, and use toys. We’ve watched avidly, noting precisely how the other like being stimulated, and the boost it gave to an already stupendous sex life has been incalculable. 

Finally, the ‘where’ of sex is ever bit as important as the ‘when’ and ‘how’. Lights off in the bedroom on a Saturday night? Yuck! Sex needs to be spontaneous. Wild. Imaginative. Sex outside the bedroom is exhilarating. Sex outside the house, even more so. Sex in water feels different to sex on land (I’m told this is especially true for guys. Fucking a girl in water is like “…having your balls softly caressed. At the moment you cum it feels amazing”…or so said one friend.) 

I am totally at home with having sex anywhere, any time. Emily has realised that she too likes sex outdoors. Better still, she has come to realise that if she is seen, that’s so much to the better. We don’t go out of our way to be seen, (quite the opposite, actually) but if it happens, it’s up to the person who sees us what they do. Stay and watch? Fine. Walk away? Equally fine. Masturbate while watching? Please do. Join in? That depends. Possibly. It depends totally on our mood….our needs that day, that time. 

Emily and I have zero secrets. She knows I would love a threesome with her and a guy. I know she would love a threesome with another girl. I also know she wants to go with a guy with me watching….and acting as a….hmm….a what…some kind of safety system I guess, if she bails. If ever that happens, I will make certain that the guy we choose is capable of stopping at any moment…and instantly, should she say so. 

We both love vaginal and anal sex. Then again, we can be the most simplistic, romantic of lovers. Holding each other, kissing softly, until we are the only people in the world. While we sometimes fantasise about others we find sexy (and yes, Dani features largely in this) there are times when it’s us and only us, and they far outnumber the times when we have someone else in our minds.

At school it was drummed into us that God made us. He made each and everyone one of us, and according to our biology teachers (especially sister Margaret). “Sure girls, imagine that. He made every single cell in your bodies…every muscle, every single nerve.” Which, by extrapolation, means He gave us these sexual feelings. 

Well, it would be a sin to waste a gift from God now, wouldn’t it?