You’re always at the laundromat on Thursdays, because that’s when SHE is there.
You’re sitting with your back to the gumball machine, just waiting for her to arrive. She doesn’t know you, in fact, she has never even noticed you. To her, you’re just another pathetic, poorly dressed loser probably waiting for his mom to finish her laundry and take him back to his murky basement hovel. You can smell her before you see her. It’s a singular scent like peppermint, lilacs and something else you can’t quit define, something uniquely her. You strain to catch fragments of the scent as she walks in the door.
You poor sniveling bastard.
You lean forward, eyes slightly closed, and you imagine being drowned in the scent of her. The musky woman smell washes over you like a wall of sound, deafening in its intensity. You can’t think or speak or even move. All you can do is just inhale, and feel your pathetic dick slowly swell in your pants as she comes into view. You watch the curve of her breast heave as she lifts up her laundry and carries it past you, overwhelming you once again with a torrent of pheromones. You imagine just burying your face in her spandex running pants, inhaling her scent so deeply that it becomes part of you, a prisoner to your twisted phone sex fantasies. You could talk to her, you could reach out and touch her but you don’t. You can’t. You’re immobilized by her intoxicating presence. It’s at this point that your eyes flitter over to her laundry and your breath catches in your throat.
She’s about to wash an entire load of panties.
There are lacy ones, thongs, g-strings, cheeky shorts, black and yellow, pink and orange. You feel your spit pooling in your mouth and move a finger up to the corner of your lip to wipe away a spot of moisture. You can see that some of the panties even have some damp spots on them, some stains where the hot juices of her sex have drenched them. You feel yourself getting harder now and you imagine jumping up, running over to her and grabbing those panties. You imagine taking them home and just rubbing them all over your body, licking at the stains and wet marks, trailing the lace over your cock and your legs. The soft borders of the lingerie would tickle you with their edges, as soft as a woman’s eyelash. You close your eyes and groan softly, trying to rub yourself through your pants without anyone noticing. You visualize what it would be like to rub yourself through HER pants, her silky underthings teasing your balls and assaulting your senses with their enveloping scent. You groan a little louder now and you notice that she has turned around.
You’re in a panic.
Thoughts flicker across your mind like a frenetic slideshow. What will you do? What will you say? You’re surprised when you notice a glint of recognition appear in her eye. She picks up one of her panties and starts striding over to you with it in her hand, balled up into a fist.
What does she do next? What do you do? Care to continue the fantasy?
I know that you little cum eating, panty lovers just love a good session of panty sniffing and humiliation phone sex . With my wicked mind and detailed fantasies, I’ll arrest your senses and immerse you in the cruel and creative universes that I design for your torment (and my pleasure). Expect a session of intensely erotic, and devastatingly devious phone sex when you call Princess Chelsea.