The Pervert Panty Sniffer

Dave sneaks into her bedroom after work, already half-hard, and yanks open her top drawer like he’s raiding a fridge. He grabs the black thong she wore that morning, still warm in the middle, and presses his nose deep into the crotch. The second his lungs fill with that sharp, woman-sweat smell, his cock kicks against his zipper. She walks in, catches him red-nosed and red-faced. He freezes, thong still glued to his face. Instead of screaming she just leans in the doorway, arms folded under her tits, smiling like she caught a kid stealing cookies. “So that’s how you want me, huh?” she says. He stammers something about her scent driving him crazy, about wanting to taste the heat she leaves behind, and she listens, head tilted, eyes sparkling with trouble. When he finally shuts up she peels the robe off, drops the fresh pair she just put on straight onto his chest, and steps out of the ones she’s wearing. They’re hotter, wetter, heavier. She climbs onto the bed, knees apart, and tells him to get his mouth exactly where he’s been fantasizing. Nothing she wouldn’t do for family.