Panty Smell Novels & Stories

It’s the only one that doesn’t stink. Of course I’ve heard of mating stench before, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t an exaggeration. Does this mean females aren’t telling tales about childbirth, either? As I begin to pitch boxers and briefs and tank tops and jeans into a pile on the biggest shirt I can find—probably Bram’s—sweat streams down my face. It isn’t from the work or the heat simmering low in my belly. It’s sheer panic. What do I do next?

I don't want to see the flushed, wrecked face of the girl who just let the Vice President finger her into a mindless puddle while she was supposed to be pinning away for the President. I lean against the cold metal of the lockers, gasping for air that smells like old gym bags and industrial cleaner. My fingers are fumbling, clumsy and useless as I try to fix my shorts. The denim is stiff, scraping against my sensitized skin. I can feel it, the stickiness of the release Evander forced out of me. It’s drying now, tacky and heavy, matting the curls of my pussy. And the smell. Fuck.

The day hadn't even started right. Maxwell soon nudged me and I saw the cappuccino cup in front of me. "Thanks. "Smile. I was going back to hand it to Stanley when I felt something wet my panties. Holy crap. No no no no no!!! I kept walking as if nothing had happened and put the cappuccino on his table. Pheromones, unlike our scent, can't be masked with a perfume or anything like that, so either way, if we smell it, we'll feel it.

He lifted her panties to smell them, making sure someone else's scent was not clinging to the fabric. He heard her snicker loudly and turned to look at her, the panties still held up in the air "So we're just being weird all out there now, not even hiding it." He smirked a little seeing the way her eyes danced "You smell fucking amazing. yeah I sniff your panties. and they make me hungry for you." He said lowly. Her mouth popped open a little involuntarily, but she quickly snapped it shut.

he said, looking at a pair of pink, and a pair of blue panties. "These garments were worn today by your resident sluts, and your challenge is to use your sense of smell to determine who wore what. Which pair would you like to sniff first? Pink or blue?" "Pink." Essence held her pink panties under his nose, and he inhaled deeply. The exotic scent wafted into his nose, and a chill went up his spine... he'd always loved the intimate scent of a woman. This sample was pungent, with a strong, almost dominating scent.

Those sea-blue eyes stayed glued to my face, watching every move. I hooked my fingers into her lace tights—felt like a second skin clinging to her—and tugged them down. Next came her black cotton panties, soaked through with a dark circle of wetness that told me everything I needed to know. I brought them to my nose, inhaling deep—her scent was intoxicating, musky and sweet, like forbidden fruit. I shoved them into my pocket. "I think I need to get you some new panties," I groaned, the words coming out thick.

My head remained on the locker with my hands clutching my clothes tightly. The voices around me were louder and people hadn’t finished laughing, this was fun, so much fun for them. I felt helpless as a hot open debate began on the next row. A debate loud enough for me to hear. People debating what size my panties were and others speculating that I was bright to have poked holes there to breathe. ‘‘Have you noticed that she rarely smells since Vince taught her how to bathe and poke holes in her pants to breathe,’’ a voice said as thunderous laughter followed.

Colt's POV Immediately I finished dressing up to head to the office, my gaze caught sight of the panties peeking out of my previous pants. My heart skipped as my nose wrinkled and I inhaled the air. One breath was enough to leave my head spinning. The scent instantly invaded my senses. In a blink, the panties had rested in my hand, slowly lifted to my nose. The more I inhaled, the more intoxicating the scent grew, scattering my thoughts and leaving my knees oddly fragile.

I moved my lips closer and closer to her womanhood. I had heard the locker room jokes about women’s pussies smelling like dead fish or rotten cheese. Joan had a very delicate scent, with just a hint of muskiness to it. I fell in love with the aroma of woman’s pussies at that moment, although, never did I find one that had as sweet a perfume as Joan Goodwin’s. (Yes, over the years I’ve come across women whose pubic hair was a rough as steel wool, whose vaginal juices were as thick as used motor oil, and who did smell like rotten cheese.)

And he sounded genuine. Scrunching my nose as I stared at the panties in my hand, I asked, "You couldn't tell how soiled they were?" Pulling them toward my face, I inhaled. They had a distinctly pungent odor. It wasn't unpleasant, though. But still. Then I said casually, "I masturbated with these on this morning." I'm not even sure why I said it, but since my brother and I were so close, I assumed the admission wouldn't horrify him.