The Panties Thief - suggested by 'naughty but nice' in chat

OK, so it has to be some of my best pairs; I’ve older, more expendable ones but the pervert knows them almost better than I do and will only take the better pairs.

I clip ten pair of panties, spread out among the other laundry, each pair hung by its side so that it is disguised as much as is possible. I do this because in my attempts to catch the pervert who is stealing the panties, I have tried making them as obvious as possible to the thief. He seems to draw pleasure from identifying each pair then the excitement of the possibility of getting caught in the course of his perverted felony .

Something that is completely beyond my understanding is that this man will not steal any pairs of crotchless panties that I put out to dry... he seems to only want those with a crotch. It makes me feel physically sick to think that he may be one of those weirdos that take pleasure from the feel of material that has been in intimate contact with my pussy. At the thought that I wore lacy material on my butt but leaving my pussy bare and immediately available to his touch would excite the hell out of my ex-husband.

The guy is no random pantie thief as I have offered him undies that I have deliberately soiled while masturbating; he left them hanging spread out for the world to see that they were stained at the crotch.

Over the past two years I have tried many ways of trying to apprehend the purloiner of my undies. Time off work, hidden for hours on end in my house. Calling the police... who were of no use what ever, even alluding to it being just an occupational hazard of being a “good looking female” who “put her frillies on display”.

Right now, as far as anyone knows 'Dee has gone on holiday'; I had to walk miles at the dead of night, dressed in dark clothing, climbing the garden fences of my neighbours to get home, hopefully unseen by anyone. I am a reasonable fit twenty-six year old but now I carry the scars of scraped shins, broken finger nails and skinned knuckles besides torn clothing, in my determined attempt to catch the perpetrator.

Two days have passed and no sign of the thief, I am kicking myself for thinking that he wouldn’t question why I left only my undies on the washing line; how could I have underestimated him so badly. I will wait two more days before the boredom drives me to resign myself to buying more panties for him to steal. I haven’t dared watch the erotic DVDs that I bought to help me through this time for risk that the light from the television or DVD player should reveal my presence. For a period I have been without a sexual partner, relying on self pleasure to satisfy my needs. After only two days of no contact with men, I am desperate for some attention, some love and affection.

In these difficult times the authorities are turning off the street lamps to conserve money and I wait until just before they are due to be turned off to check if my undies are still suspended from the wash line; yes, they still hang, limp and bedraggled.

Fully dressed, for I intend to tackle this thief if he dares to climb my fence and steal my property, I wrap myself in a blanket and wait yet again fully accepting that another sleepless night is in store.

A sudden flash of light on the ceiling wakes me from an exhausted slumber, I leap to the window, and there he is! He is smaller than I anticipated, probably a teenager, Damn, I so wanted to knee in the balls this man who steals my intimate property.

I am well prepared; the way to the door is clear; the door unlocked and adrenalin helps flow power to my muscles. Through the door, then outside I quickly close the distance between him and me. He sees me, but too late... I throw myself at him, my arm snakes around his neck... the momentum carries both of us forward and we crash to the ground. With satisfaction I hear his lungs expel their content of air as I land hard on his belly ... he grunts in pain. My hand grasps feverishly at what I hope is his crotch, teen or not I want to bring pain to his balls, to his manhood that no doubt has been soiling my panties. My hand misses its target and I have to turn to his head. Clenching my hand into a fist I raise it and swing a punch. At the last moment before it strikes his head full on he moves and my fist glances a blow to his cheek bone. He yells and so do I; damn, I didn’t realise it would hurt me as well. Thankfully the hood worn by the thief reduced the effect of the impact to both of us. I grab desperately at the hood. The teenager tries to prevent the inevitable but in my anger the adrenalin gives me the strength needed. The hood comes free and I glare into the eyes of the pantie thief.

In the house I turn on the lights as I drag the culprit inside, there is blood, trickling from a graze on the cheek.

“You fuckin' stupid bitch, I’ll sue you for assault”, the thief yells at me.

My mouth opens but shock prevents me from uttering a word. I look more closely at this person. Short, wild, unwashed hair, unkempt, dirty clothes, and now my other senses have returned, the smell of an unwashed body. But through it all I can see that the person I have captured is a... female!

In my defence I retort, “I was using an appropriate amount of force necessary to protect my property”.

“Property? Screams the girl, “Property... a few pair of fuckin' knickers?”. Her eyes bulge and her face contorts.

“They cost money, buy your own”, I mumble. I now feel that it is she that is the victim not I.

“Does it look like I got money”, she pulls at the dirty clothes that she wears, “I have to sell the knickers to get some money in order to eat”.

Now it becomes clear; the reason why older, worn panties had been ignored; why crotchless ones too, they were not marketable.

“But why me, why my knickers, I cant afford to keep losing them, soon I’ll have to go commando; I’ll catch my death”, I whine.

A flicker of a smile creases her mouth but is stopped by the obvious pain it causes to her injured cheek.

“Try having none to wear and a hole in the ass of your jeans”, she bends slightly and shows a hole in the filthy garment.

Now that the adrenalin has stopped pumping I am aware of the pain in my fingers from where I hit the girl. I shake my hand.

“Serves you fuckin right”, the girl half smiles, “if that punch had connected full on I wouldn’t have a head now”.

I see the mirth and acceptance in her face and I shake my hand again. “Oh my god I didn’t realise that it hurt so much to hit someone”, I admit.

We laugh, I hold out my arms to her and with only a slight pause she steps forward and we hug. The rank smell invaded my nostrils.

“Why your knickers all the time” she explains, “cos I followed you home from the shops, you’re classy and buy classy looking undies. I was hopin' you would put out your bras too, they would have got a good price”.

“Who”, I enquire, “do you sell to, other women?”.

“Nah, they won’t buy used knickers, I sell to men, they love 'em”.

“Oh no!” I stare at her.

“Sorry, but I wipe my pussy with them before I sell them, the blokes like to sniff”.

Suddenly I feel sick and dizzy and I sit down quickly. My imagination runs riot thinking of the material that had once snuggled and held so intimately my pussy being coated in this girl's excretions then being sniffed or worse by some man who had paid for the privilege. The girl drops to her knees by my chair.

“Gawd, you’ve gone white, you OK?” she asks. “Oh yeah, I 'spose I don’t smell too good, sorry, I can leave if that’s OK”.

My hand grasps her sleeve, “No you don’t! Not looking and smelling like that you don’t. I have some jeans that will fit you but you have to shower first”.

The girl looks at me as if I had threatened her life. “With no clothes on... in water?”, her horrified face says it all. “Not if someone else is here too”, she states.

I raise my clenched fist still raw and bruised, and hold it under her nose then point towards the stairs. She gets the idea. I follow behind her, steering her in the direction of the bathroom.

As I struggle to remove her skank clothes it becomes obvious why she was so reluctant to remove them. Under the jeans the darkness shows that it had been forever since she had shaved her legs. A filthy tee-shirt hides what ought to have been covered by a pair of panties; she had already explained that she owns none, not even a pair of mine! All that she purloined she sold on to perverted men.

Her face displays her shame as I indicate that she remove the tee-shirt. Her chin falls to her chest and for the first time a tear trickles down a cheek.

Initially reluctant the girl finally allows me to pull the tee over her head, and it is then I see reason for her reluctance; a mass of dark matted hair spreading over her mound, her lower belly, her vagina, and even at the top of her legs. Under her arms grows an unrestrained forest of hair. She breaks down into a flood of tears.

“I've never shaved” she sobs an answer to my unasked question as I stare in disbelief. “Why thieve a razor when you need food? I nod in total agreement with her logic.

“OK.... “, I wait for her to tell me her name but she doesn’t understand. “I'm Diane, Dee”, I prompt.

“Nico”, she pauses, a word remains unspoken, “well that’s all you need to know now”, she continues.

I push her under the hot rain that jets from the shower rose.

“Hey! You ain’t my fuckin' mother, I do know how to wash you know, 'sides, for all I know you’re trying to drown me”, her face relaxes and a broad, cheeky grin lights her face.

I slap her butt hard then immediately regret it as pain shoots through my bruised hand. “How old are you Nico?” I’m surprised when she claims to be my age, twenty-six; she looks younger even under all the grime. She beams with delight at my pain.

I watch as Nico washes the grime of goodness knows how long, from her body. She is not slim, neither is she fat, some would say well proportioned, particularly those wishing to distance themselves from the much discussed “size zero” displayed by many females in the public eye. As the hot water turns the shower gel to foam she runs her bare hands over her skin which gradually begins to turn a healthy and glowing pink. Foam runs and is encouraged into intimate places and I find myself staring at those private areas. Breasts, under-arm, navel, mound. A hand seems to me to spend more time than is necessary between the tops of her hairy thighs; I change the weight of my body from leg to leg; why are her innocent actions making me aware of my voyeurism; of parts of my own anatomy?

Nico bends forward to sluice the white foam from her hair, then looks up and catches me staring at her body. She smiles what ostensibly is a warm friendly smile but rightly or wrongly I interpret the smile as a challenge; to stop my inspection and leave the room or... or what? Get actively involved?

My decision is to do the latter, but in a wary, constructive way. I collect a new disposable razor and some talcum powder and a fresh towel. My hand on her waist alerts her and I indicate that she turns off the shower; she does and stands there, her naked, dripping body within inches of me. Her freshly washed skin feels so soft, so warm, so... so....

The towel wraps around her wet body as she starts to dry off. Once again her hands explore, and once again they appear to linger in places that for some reason I yet have to explain, arouse in me feelings that I am not sure I should be experiencing.

As Nico reaches completion of wiping the moisture from her skin I hold up the razor. There's that smile again, all knowing, challenging. She tries to step from the cubicle but I am in a trance, I stand blocking her way so that she has to squeeze by me, as she does I hear a low, throaty chuckle close to my ear.

“You are going to have to help me here, as I said, I didn’t ever shave”, she nods towards the razor, “and that looks as if it could do damage to... well... my more delicate parts?”. Her words amuse her greatly and she opens her delicate mouth in an unrestrained laugh. Stupidly, I feel the blood rush to my face in a blush. But more disconcertingly, the blood rushes elsewhere, to places that it really has no right to invade at this time. I try to resist the movement of a hand to where the red fluid of life rushes, filling, engorging tissues in a well practised precursor to… My hand moves and as it grabs at my nether regions I manage to control it and pass it off as brushing off water from my dress.

I busy my hands at preparing the razor, the talc, the towel, hoping that the time taken will allow my face to lose its statement of what cannot be denied is sexual arousal. Turning to Nina I see from her grin that my ploy hasn’t worked. She sits on the edge of the roll-top bath without an ounce of modesty; the dark mass between her legs acting as a magnet to my eyes. Do I start with this dangerous area and get it over with before I have time to think too deeply about what is taking place? Do I help her with the under-arms and leave her to do her intimate areas on her own, in private?

Her slim wrist between my fingers and thumb I raise her arm and indicate that she hold it up so that I can start on the hair with the scissors, After just a few snips she sighs and smiles deep into my eyes. Yes, it scares me, I admit it to myself, this isn’t at all what I had in mind. Fingers of her free hand pluck at the tee I am wearing; I try to ignore the action. Now she gently smooths a palm over the hip of my tight cycle pants. I move, trying to indicate minor irritation. That low chuckle follows.

“Keep still” I snap at her, “or I could hurt you... silly girl”. My annoyance does nothing but amuse Nico. Our faces are so close that I feel her breath on my cheek, I want to turn my head to her but I know that would be a big mistake, I must have self control.

“Dee? Dee”, she repeats, “You are not the stupid bitch I thought at first, you are a caring person, so soft and clean... and well, sexy”. Immediately my thighs squeeze tightly together and I inadvertently wriggle causing them in turn to press upon puffy labia with an entirely inappropriate result. I renew my concentration on my ministrations to her armpit.

With her armpit hair now covered in talc I begin gently to shave, first at the edges then as the hair tumbles to our feet I shave further.

Not used to the feeling of the razor Nico squirms around making it difficult for me to take the care needed. I scold her to keep still, in response her free arm closes around my waist, her fingers steal under my tee and touch my bare skin. I try to wriggle free but she knows as well as I that it is but a token gesture; I enjoy her cool fingers gently caressing my skin. Nico pulls my body gently to hers and a mutual warmth seeps from one to the other.

Finally I succeed in cleaning one hirsute armpit. I hand Nico the razor, advise her not to use water, and to call me when all areas are shaven so that I can advise on how to cool any rash. To my disappointment she accepts the razor, pats my butt and asks me to make her a hot drink.

In the kitchen I muse over the events that have unfolded in the last few hours. The lack of sleep; a desire to hurt the person stealing my undies; excitement of the discovery of the thief; tussling with what I assumed was a teenage male; realisation that I had caught a female thief. Thoughts of what had transpired only moments ago had me investigating one of the very garments in question. These though are on my person, on my butt, in intimate contact... with a very aroused pussy, as my probing, inquisitive fingers now discover. There is no doubt in my mind as I pour hot milk into large mugs that soon, very soon I shall take every opportunity to touch and hold Nico. Even these thoughts, this determination, increases the level of my sexual arousal.

“Don’t think I wont still report you for assault”, calls Nico as I pass the bathroom to take the drinks to my bedroom.

“I have taken good care of you, no one would believe you”, I laugh.

“Then explain how I am injured, and worse, how come I’m naked, locked in your house. How you stole my clothes”, Nico retorts.

It takes but a few seconds before I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, “mutual consent?”, I claim. Her eyes widen in astonishment at my nakedness.

“Oh shit!”, her eyes rest on my pubic area. “You’re, you’re... bald!”. Her mouth is agape. It takes her a few seconds to assimilate the picture before her; my naked and prominent mound. Then looks down to her own, broader mound still covered in hair, although now shorter. Her thighs are red from the action of the razor but now bare. The razor had scraped too at her lower belly. All in all a vast improvement.

“It's OK for you, I see that you’re a natural blonde, Your hair is fine, mine is wiry and black”.

“We could fix yours just the same, Nico, it would...” I didn’t get to finish.

“We?, Who's this we? You think I’m letting your fingers anywhere near my pussy? You can forget that, cheeky bitch!”, she pouts and I wonder if I have taken things too far, too soon.

But I too can play that game so I stand and turn on my heel and move towards the door. “Please your damn self then”.

“Ooh, stuck up fuckin' madam, OK, OK, I’ll do it myself, ain’t having you cut off my valuable pieces”, I detect a shrillness in her voice and in my mind I say 'yesss' and continue out of the door. “Whatever”, I call out, “just hurry or this hot drink wont be hot”.

“I'm starving, got anything to eat? And I don’t mean meat”, she looks at my pussy which I am brazenly displaying as I lie on the bed.“

“Meat?”, I query, “are you a vegetarian?”

“Or lettuce leaves”, she points directly at my pussy; I snap my legs together; I am again embarrassed at her street-wise language.

Sitting side by side, cross-legged on the bed in which I once enjoyed athletic sex with my ex-husband, Nico and I gorge ourselves on potato-crisps, cookies and chocolate.

“You made an awful job of shaving your pubes”, I scold her.

“I'm a beginner, you can do it next time”, there is that low growl of her quiet laughter.

Her hand dives between my legs and my heart misses a beat as her fingers come within a hair's breadth of my naked pussy. A finger stabs at a shard of chocolate which had fallen to the sheet. I look up at her face, she is grinning like a cheshire cat.

“Want to share it?”, she grins. “Better come and get it then”.

The arm retracts and the finger tip flies to the tip of Nico's now extended tongue, and there it deposits the chocolate on the moist, pink tip.

Its now or never! I turn and throw myself at the girl who screams in mock horror. My mouth is on hers in a flash. Through my parted lips her tongue darts, finding mine and shares with me the tiny piece of chocolate.

Soon Nico and I are writhing, one naked body against the other, hands exploring, fingers delving, tongues entwining.

This is going to be some night of exploration and sexual encounter.

wc 3686