Tereza's Panties Ch. 01

I have been good friends with my neighbors Greg and Tereza since college. We had all lived in the same Arts dorm. We share a small and close knit circle of friends that attended the reputable and demanding Fine Art's program here in Madison, Wisconsin. I was the oldest of our group at 28. A few of our other friends had moved to other cities (New York, Chicago, and Baltimore), but five of us still remained. I was proud that we had all managed to become at least slightly successful in our fields, and that we all made our living in something to do with the arts. But Greg and I are were by far the closest. I loved and respected Greg like my own brother: He was genuine, talented, warm, and supporting. He was the first person present after my mother died. We were so close that when I moved further East in East Town, Greg persuaded Tereza that they needed follow suit. They moved kitty-corner to me in an old Cape Cod style apartment.

Tereza was a drop-dead gorgeous young lady from Romania. She was tall, slender, and disarming. She had immigrated to the U.S. on a student visa to study in our program. She was a passionate girl, precocious, and by all accounts, bat-shit crazy. When they had a court-house wedding 2 years after our graduation, I was skeptical. Greg had never even had a girlfriend. Not only did she need her papers to stay in the U.S., but she always seemed flirty with other men and craved sexual attention. She received it. But their relationship did function in it's own strange way. Greg would temper her screaming fits, and all was good again. In my heart I didn't trust Tereza with my dear friend, and he knew that. Her dark and mysterious model-quality looks were lost on me too. At best, I tolerated my best friend's crazy wife.

Greg was as hilarious as he was gregarious, and he invited me over to their filthy apartment almost nightly. We worked on joint projects, talked art, or watched movies. But mostly we drank wine. We had discovered that we shared a passion and a palette for complex red wine, and we drank two bottles almost every night we spent together. We would spend hours after Tereza had gone to bed sipping and cracking each other up. We often created mocking bourgeois wine descriptions like, "a $13.75 bottle of $5 wine: flavors of bakers chocolate and rice wine vinegar blend perfectly with aromas of over-ripe mangos, ferret, and Kanye West's rotting career." Stupid stuff that in a way was just as high-falutin as real wine descriptions. His palette was a bit more refined, and he called me "The Nose". All joking aside, we really loved wines.

I think in someways Tereza resented me for being so close to Greg. I mentioned to him regularly that he should really spend more time alone with her, take her out, or that we could hang out at my apartment. He wouldn't hear of it. He loved everyone like family. That was just Greg.

In February of the year they first moved in, Greg asked me to cat-sit for them. They were going to Romania for two weeks; Greg's first visit to Romania, and to her home town. The thought of tending to anything in their cluttered and reeking apartment made my stomach turn, but of course I said yes. I honestly didn't know the first thing about cats, or animals for that matter, but he said it would be easy. In retrospect, they didn't know much about cats, or how to clean up after them. He gave me a front door key.

When I let myself in the next morning the place was even more trashed than usual. It looked as though they had overturned everything in a panicked rush to pack. I walked over the clothes on the floor in the living room and into the small kitchen. They hadn't even touched the dishes from the last time I had been over, and they crept rottenly out of the sink and onto the counter around it. It smelled like cats and filth. But there on the counter near the stove was a bottle of red wine and a note: "Brett,

Thanks so much for helping us out. Here is bottle of Malbec. Hope you enjoy it! It's supposed to be really good. Stuff about the cats- Split a can of soft food for them in the morning, and another at night. I set it by their dishes. Keep their dry food filled all the time. And if you could run that rake thing through the litter twice before we get back and throw it out in the back, that would be amazing. Other than that, just play with them if you can. They get bored. I put that laser-pointer they love by the TV. Thanks again! Greg"

I went to the cat's dishes and filled their soft and hard food. Then I filled their water bowl to the top. They both came over purring, and rubbed up against me while I finished up. It actually felt pretty good to fulfill that very basic and important task for them. I pet them for a bit then starting looking around.

Something about being in their place without them felt wrong. I had the unnerving feeling that someone was watching me, or there was camera there. I felt like I was on hidden camera show, and they were watching me to see if I'd go sneaking around, or steal something. I walked from room to room checking things out; the mess, photo's, art supplies, and half finished projects. Being there was weird and it made me nervous. I went home the forgetting the bottle of wine.

I thought about it all afternoon as I worked from home. I was filled with a strange sense of guilt. The week past in a daze of work. I would feed the cats in the morning. At night after I had fed them, I would play with them a bit. I even started feeling more comfortable alone there. Both cats were tabbies. J.J was a big boy that was playful and curious. But I preferred Princess. She was lazy and shy, but she loved affection. I would pet her after they ate, and then, I would pick up the laser pointer to get J.J darting about the house.

Two days before they came home I finally opened the wine. I watched as the cats ate their food, found the only clean wine glass in the apartment, and uncorked the bottle. I poured myself a small glass and pet Princess as I swirled the Malbec to let it breathe. A minute later, I grabbed the laser pointer and headed back into the living room to play with J.J. He was not there. I looked in the entry way, in the bathroom, and even their cluttered workspace. I checked their room, and there was J.J., sticking his head out of the closet. I began our little ritual; twirling the blue laser dot across the floor with J.J in pursuit. I took my first sip of the wine. It was amazing.

The bouquet was expressive. Hints of sandalwood, Asian spices, incense, minerals, black cherry, and black raspberry blended together perfectly. I swirled the wine around my tongue. Opulence. The palate had great depth of flavor, complexity, and impeccable balance. It was the finest and most balanced wine I had ever experienced. I leaned against the door jam and turned off the laser pointer. I closed my eyes and took a second and third sip, relishing the wine's many subtleties.

A small crash took me away from my reverie. It sounded as if glass had broken. I walked around the far side of the bed. Sure enough, J.J had knocked a glass of water off the nightstand, and it lay in shards on the carpet. The cat looked up at me imploringly. I would have to clean this up.

As I turned to leave the room, something caught the corner of my eye. There along the far wall, on the very top of a brimming clothes hamper, were the sexiest panties I had ever seen. My heart was stuck in my throat. They were vivid blue cotton with matching lace trim. They looked so smooth and soft. They had been thrown there haphazardly, but they way they lay perfectly accentuated the hip-hugging cut of the material. My breath shortened and my mouth had become dry, leaving my tongue coated with a layer of Malbec as thick as clay. I pictured Tereza's ample ass-cheeks contoured upwards in the luscious cotton, sloping towards her rounded hips. The lace ran downwards towards her navel, and dipped into her crotch, which hid partially in a 4-inch gap between her thick thighs. A single pubic hair was trapped there in the elastic band. My crotch strained at my jeans. I ran into the kitchen, corked the bottle, and ran back home.

What had just happened? What was I doing? I felt extremely guilty but my lust was even stronger. I stood in my light-less apartment peering through the shades. My erection had not subsided, but had grown worse. I hunched over. I did not even like Tereza, and she was my best friends wife, but I could not push the picture of her panties, nor of the image of her in them, from my head. My temples were engorged with blood. I don't remember opening the door, but I did.

I stalked across the street like a thief, and went into their apartment silently. Once inside I froze. Time slowed down, and every sound seemed amplified. The bitter February wind howled against the windows, and passing cars swished through the slush of salted streets. I couldn't move. My guilt battled against my lust. Three minutes became an eternity. I walked into the bedroom terrified, turned the light on, and stood before the hamper. I picked up the marvelously tender material and ran my fingers across it. My mouth began watering and my breathe came in short, shallow bursts. I felt like whimpering. I slowly eased Tereza's panties towards my face. As I sniffed them the fabric kissed my face.

She could not have worn them for almost two weeks at the minimum. There was almost no aroma left. I could smell a slight scent of mildew from the wet towels in the hamper. In the crotch, the slightest scent of urine in the far distance. And in the lace, below the belly, a hint of Tereza's perfume. I had never even noticed that she wore perfume. But then, as I sniffed her panties fiendishly, the aroma evoked immediate images of her: Tereza at the refrigerator, bent over to get something. Her, opening the door for me in nothing but a bathrobe, slick black hair wet against the curve of her neckline. Tereza in a bikini at Lake Michigan the summer before, making obnoxious heads turn at every step. I rubbed my excruciatingly hard penis through my pants and inhaled the faint scents. Then, my guilt got the best of me. I felt like a felon, like a complete loser, and a pervert. I tried to arrange the panties exactly as I had found them, but every way I placed them seemed to scream of my molestation. Finally, after minutes, I left the apartment filled with dread.

When Greg and Tereza came back, I did my best to act normal. The trip had been amazing and insightful for Greg and he was practically gushing with stories and information. Despite my best efforts, he could tell something was up. I chalked it up to my deadline. He asked me why I had not finished the wine, "was it bad?" I had totally forgotten about it. I assured him that it was the best wine I had ever had, and that it would still be good if he drank it tonight. He insisted it was mine, and despite all my excuses, he ordered me over that night to finish it with him. In my guilt, I brought him two pricey "welcome home" bottles.

I knocked at the door, and watched through the small framed windows as Tereza approached. I felt like she must have known; like she would shame and berate me. She opened the door calmly. "I didn't know if Greg was going to survive without you," she chuckled.

"Well it sounds as if you two had a great trip," I stuttered.

"How were my babies?" she asked in her slight accent, picking up a purring Princess, and holding it to her rounded breasts. I stared begging. She looked at me. "They broke a glass in our room, but other than that, they seem very happy. Thanks so much, Brett."

"They were good," I blurted, "I love Princess." I stared at her breasts next to the female Tabby.

I made my way back to their workspace in disbelief that she had not known. I breathed a bit easier. How had I not been attracted to this sexy Gypsy lady before? Had my loyalty to Greg blinded me of her undeniable attractiveness?

Greg and I savored the rest of the bottle he had given me. It was truly special. We got a got a good buzz and he related their trip to me. We drank all 3 bottles and I stumbled home.

The next day, Greg and I texted back and forth. We were both hungover. He was headed back to his hometown to spend time with his parents. I asked him if Tereza was making the trip with him. She was not. She was going to catch up on work and possibly meet up with friends.

I spent the day at the window. I felt truly creepy. Tereza did not drive, and the only way I could tell if she was leaving was to watch. I sat on my couch facing their apartment for hours. I only got up to make coffee or use the bathroom. Even then, I thought I might have missed her. At 3:30 in the afternoon, Tereza emerged from the house with her messenger bag on her shoulder. I jumped up and watched. She unlocked her bike from the front porch grate and left.

I sprinted to my keys, and fumbled with them in my excitement. I watched as she biked down the street southbound. I rushed out of the door leaving it unlocked. I half-walked, half-jogged, to their apartment and threw open the door, locking it behind me. I went into their room. The blue panties lay as before in the hamper, untouched. I looked through the apartment, and it was just as it was before. I was panicking. Tereza could return at any moment. I ran through the house. A giant suitcase was in an area near the backdoor. It was open and was full of Tereza's clothes. I picked through it on my knees, carefully, but in a great hurry. I picked through shirts, pants, and dresses, all smashed together in a wrinkled mess. I saw something purple and stretchy. It was a tanga. My mouth watered with desire. I drew the panty out and looked at it. It was much like the blue pair, but without the lace, and the cut would expose the hip more. I smelled Tereza's panties deeply then, and the aroma and flavor were one that I will never forget. It made me dizzy and apathetic to any consequences that could have been.

I undid my belt buckle and freed my raging cock. I took another deep whiff:

It was a deep and bold aroma, and complex. Her bouquet left me panting. I was kneading my cock head, and after the third smell, I was dripping with pre-cum. Her scent was focused and honeyed. There was the slightest acidity from her urine which added a great deal to the complexity. I stroked glistening my cock slowly, releasing more juices than I felt natural. My dick was giant. I smelled more. A dark, musky scent hung in the background, hidden in spice. I pictured her long black hair falling into the crevice that is the small of her back. She was on the floor on all floors wearing the vivid blue panties. She looked over her shoulder at me mysteriously. Her ass was slightly arched and her legs were apart. I wanted to eat her scent. She rubbed her full pussy lips while I watched her. I rubbed myself strongly. A dark spot of moisture emerged in her crotch. Her rubbing had pushed her panties a bit into her luscious pussy lips, and had revealed the outer edges of her labia. They contrasted greatly with her pale thick thighs, and they looked engorged with sexual agitation. I moved slowly closer behind her, continuing to stroke my furious man-hood, and took a deep whiff of her asshole. I licked her through the crotch of her panties, and smelled her deepest, earthy smell. I wanted her to cum to cum for me, and pulled her panties aside. She came, and I came all over her raw, red pussy and darkened asshole.

When I came to, I burrowed back into the suitcase. I replaced the purple tanga, and dug deeper. I found a white thong with a yellowed crotch. I set the rest of her clothes back as they were, pushed her silky bottoms deep into my coat pocket, and rushed back home.