Stealing Bras and Sniffing Panties


An expert in looking and seeing without being noticed, most times, they were oblivious to Carl watching them. By the time they noticed him, he had already gotten an eyeful of all that he wanted, needed, and was hoping to see of them and all that they were accidentally or purposely showing him. By the time they noticed him, he was already leaving and in search of his next voyeuristic victim.

In the way that women busied themselves looking for sale items, leaning over counters, and squatting down to look at the merchandise stowed in lower shelves and bins, innocuously positioned where he had the best view, while appearing as if he was just another customer shopping, he remained in the background, oblivious to their detection. Able to assess the whole scene, someone from across a crowded store had a much better chance of seeing what he was up to than the person he was watching. In the way that women focused on shopping or hurried to stow their bundles in their cars to get back in the air conditioning comfort of their vehicles, he saw more, closer up views at the supermarket and the mall than he ever did at the beach.

When it was so unbearably hot and sticky uncomfortable, women wore anything, practically nothing, just to stay cool, while shopping, especially food shopping, a sometimes dreaded chore. As if shooting fish in a barrel, everywhere he went in a supermarket or a mall, he'd see something. From seeing a close up view of a bra down a woman's open blouse, while she leaned down to look and reach for something in the dairy case to seeing a woman's patch of panty between her legs, while watching a woman trying on shoes in a shoe store, everywhere he looked, he'd see someone flashing a bra or panty. When it was that hot, even the most modest of women, those rich bitches from the other side of town or the church women dressed so beautifully, didn't care what they were showing and who was looking. They were just hoping to stay cooler, while Carl was hoping to get hotter by looking at all they were showing.

Mindful of the surveillance cameras that watched him, knowing their locations and where to position himself to avoid their detection, Carl didn't carry a camera with him. He didn't need binoculars. Not wanting to call undue attention to himself, he was an up close and personal kind of guy. It took little more than to hold up a package, as if he was reading the contents label, when he was looking down someone's blouse or squatting down to look up someone's dress. He'd rather photograph the close up images in his mind to record in his notebook and use later, when masturbating over all that he saw in the privacy of his bedroom.

He hated pantyhose and fortunately, most women didn't wear pantyhose, especially in the summer. Their uniform of choice were bras and panties beneath something loose, light, and sheer. He loved those hot, humid summer days where he could see the hazy, hot fumes rising up from the black asphalt. Slowly, he'd circle around in his beat up pickup truck watching for targets, while looking for victims. Being that there were so very many of them, they were always easy to find. Women in low cut sundresses were his favorites, especially when there was a hot summer breeze blowing. Much like a supermarket special, they gave him two for ones, a down dress peek of their bras and an up dress peek of their panty.

Watching women stow their bundles in the trunks of their cars or secure their children in the backseats were his best sightings and the thing that gave him the idea for his blowgun tranquilizer. He loved looking down their dress at their bras and up their dresses at their panties. With the material of their dress pulled tighter across their backs and asses, he loved staring at their exposed bra and panty lines, when they leaned in their cars. Always they showed him more than they knew they were showing.

Whenever he was caught looking, as their personally violated reprimand to him, women gave him a dirty look, some swore at him or gave him the finger, and others, those who enjoyed the attention, even showed him more. Yet, whatever they did in response to catching him looking, their reaction gave him more masturbation material and was more a reward than it was an embarrassment for him. Sometimes, when there was no one around, wanting their reaction, he'd linger to watch longer, knowing he'd be caught looking.

He loved the ones who felt invaded and somehow violated, as if he had taken something from them from seeing their bra and/or their panty. He took their expressions of shame and horror home with him to masturbate over later. An affront to their decency, he loved the women who were angry and threatened to call the police or security. He stole something from them, not only the image of their panty and/or bra but also their modesty, that they could never take back. His favorite women were the ones who wanted to play and who willingly showed more, when they knew he was looking. Look but don't touch, for him to satisfy his bra and panty fetish, his thing was voyeurism and not having sex with anyone, other than with himself.

Even though he didn't shop there, in the beginning, Wal-Mart was his favorite store for seeing all that he needed to see. Whether inside the store or out in the parking lot, Wal-Mart was the Mecca, a voyeuristic paradise, a voyeurs Disney World. He'd see more bras and panties in one visit to Wal-Mart than he'd see in a week of frequently the supermarket and mall. Yeah, sure, a lot of the women who shopped at that store were fat, ugly, and/or fat and ugly, but there were still some hot chicks, who were too hot from the weather to care what they were showing and who was looking.

He couldn't keep count of how many bras and panties he's seen at that one store. He couldn't keep count of how many women he's watched, just by walking around and seeing what some of these women were wearing and showing. Definitely the hot summer was his favorite season for women watching.

It was obvious that some women, just by the way they dressed or didn't dress, were exhibitionists. Some women didn't care what they were showing him and what he saw of them. Needing that attention, no doubt, they were hoping to show. Yet, most were just hot and careless, and too hot to care.

Most women don't realize that someone like him is out there hoping to see all that they were inadvertently showing. It always bothered him that he couldn't be at more than one place at a time. If he was all seeing and all knowing, he couldn't imagined all the bras and panties, he'd see. He couldn't help but feel that he was missing more than what he was seeing, which is why he decided to take his work home with him, by tranquilizing women and stealing their used bras and sniffing their panties. Instead of just recording notes in his notebook, now he'd have their bras and panties as his souvenirs. Only, now, instead of having to settle for stealing peeks of bras and panties at Wal-Mart women, he headed for the most exclusive neighborhood malls to steal the bras and panties of those women who'd ordinarily wouldn't look twice at him, the rich and beautiful women.

With blowgun at the ready, hunting for bras and panties instead of for buck and bear, he was more focused than he's ever been. In the meantime, while looking for the one women to steal her bra and panty, as his routine diversion, he watched for down blouse views of bras and up skirt views of panties. In watching women as the voyeur he was, Carl remained ever vigilant for a victim to steal her bra and sniff her panty. Cautiously careful and stealthily silent, slowly driving around the parking lot, as if looking for the perfect parking space, he didn't want to be noticed, caught, and arrested for stealing bras and panties, when and if he found a victim.

Waiting and watching for just the right opportunity, searching specifically for a woman who parked her new car away from all the other cars, for fear of dings, dents, and scratches, looking in the inner lower, and upper parking lots, Carl scoped out the outer parking lot, too. Away from the routine drive-by checks of security, he looked for those places that were more remote, desolate, and isolated, especially when he knew that security was busy on the other side of the lot. Mindful of the multitude of security camera surveillance, he hid his rear license plate with a an empty shopping bag partially hanging out from his tailgate.

Unable to find anything but parked cars, as frustrated as he was excited, finally, he spotted her, his hoped for victim. Leaving his engine running and angled out of view of her rearview mirrors, he parked his truck a short distance away and slumped down in his seat, so as not to be detected. As if a detective on stakeout, he watched and waited.

A bleached blonde was parked beneath a shady tree in the farthest corner of the parking lot. With her sitting in the passenger seat and with no other cars around, except for the one car parked beside them, he figured that was her car. Too cheap or not having time enough to get a room, she was a woman cheating on her husband, no doubt. Having witnessed this behavior before, he figured, eventually, her lover would leave and, not wanting to be caught together, she'd wait to follow.

Hoping to somehow get her alone, he watched the woman making out with the man in his parked car. From his distant vantage point, when her head suddenly disappeared from sight, he figured she was giving her lover a blowjob. Oh, yeah, just the type of woman he had been searching to find. She was a wild and wicked woman. She deserved to have her bra stolen and panties sniffed.

Waiting for the right moment, after her dirty deed was done with her lover and watching her reapply her lipstick in her rearview mirror, his chance came when the woman alighted from the man's car with several shopping bags. With one eye watching the man's car disappear in the distance, he watched the woman carefully take her time loading her packages in the trunk of her car.

From the make, model, and year of her car, she obviously had money. Even from his distance, he could tell she was a young, pretty, and shapely woman. Not knowing what she did for a living, if she worked at all, to him she looked like a real estate agent. With her hair, clothes, and makeup just so, he's seen the type of well put together woman before.

Bent over with her ass sticking out and her head and torso in her trunk of her car, as if she was a bear in the bush picking berries, she inspected and arranged all that she bought. Acting so much like the victim she was, appearing as if she was daring him to tranquilize her, she was oblivious to her desolate surroundings and to his surveillance of her. With her leaning so far in her trunk and the material of her dress stretched so tightly across her ass, even from the distance and without the aid of binoculars, he could see her panty line through her sheer, white dress. The closer he drove the more he could see and the more excited he became with the thoughts of what he was about to do. Quickly, as he drove by and silently stopped at the back of her car, he powered down his driver's side window and with a quick, short puff of air...


"Ow," said the woman, reaching her hand behind to grab at her ass, just as she fell head first in her trunk.

"Bulls-eye," he said.

With this his first victim and not knowing how she'd react and how long it'd take the tranquilizer to take effect, he was surprised that the dosage he gave her was immediate. Ready to bolt, if she turned and screamed, she shocked him, when she stayed so motionless with the upper portion of her body resting in her trunk. Surprised that his chemical concoction acted so fast, he wondered if he should have lowered the tranquilizing dose. Certainly, he didn't want to kill her. Not very good at math, he had no idea how much of a dose to give to a 120 pound woman, versus a 600 pound bear.

"No doubt, probably less," he said aloud while thinking of lowering the dosage for the next victim. "Oh, well."

Did he kill her? Hoping she wasn't dead, he quickly parked his truck behind her car. Cautiously and nervously, he put a finger to her neck to check for a pulse and, leaning inside her trunk, looked to see if she was still breathing. Thank God, she had a pulse and was breathing.

Appearing as if she was sleeping, looking around to make sure no one was watching, he removed the dart from her ass and reached down and lifted her dress to her waist. With her panties so exposed, unable to continue, he was so nervous. Instead of doing what he had planned to do, he stared at and felt her panty clad ass, before reaching between her legs to cup her pussy through her panties.

Controlling the urge to unzip himself, remove his cock, and masturbate over her exposed panties, instead, in one quick, fluid motion, he pulled down her white, silk panties, lifted her legs to remove them, and sniffed them, before sticking them in his pocket. Before it had a chance to penetrate her panty and soil her white dress, he wiped away dot of blood from her dart wound with a tissue and deposited that in her trunk. Then, reaching inside her trunk and around her, he reached inside her dress, unhooked her bra, and pulled that off of her, too. Victorious, he had claimed her bra and panty as his very first trophies. Elated as the hunter that he was, he was full of adrenaline.

"I did it. Oh, my God. I stole her bra and panty," he said unable to contain his excitement.

He could have taken all of her packages, but he didn't want those. He could have stolen her purse and her jewelry, but he didn't want that either. With her panty and bra in his possession, he already had what he was after and what he so wanted. Suddenly feeling empowered, it was then that he realized that, in conjunction with his fetish for bras and panties, even though he didn't know her, the real reason behind stealing her bra and panty was he wanted to control and humiliate her because she appeared to be the type of women who would reject him.

At first, he didn't know and/or understand why he so wanted to control and humiliate women. Maybe, perhaps, after seeing so many bras and panties and not being allowed to touch them, this was now his chance to do whatever he wanted to do to such an unapproachable and unattainable woman as he perceived she was. He could have fucked her right there, but he didn't. It was enough for him, just to take ownership of her most intimate apparel. Much better than any encoded mark in his notebook, as if he was leaving with a part of her in his pocket, he was sexually satisfied.

Wanting to leave her with her dress bunched around her back and her naked ass and pussy so exposed for all to see, for the sake of a quick, unseen getaway, he decided against doing that. Besides, he didn't even know this woman and that would be too embarrassingly mean and, perhaps, something that may make her want to find him to prosecute him. Instead, not having considered it before, thinking fast, he went to his truck and got his camera.

"Click! Click! Click!"

He photographed her naked tits, ass and pussy. This way, if she dared tried to find him and prosecute him, he'd publicly expose, embarrass, and humiliate her.

With her still resting there with her dress askew, he realized that he shouldn't just leave her there like that and in that position. He quickly pushed her dress down, pulled her out of her trunk, checked again that she was still breathing and that no one was watching, closed the trunk, and deposited her in the front seat of her car. If security was diligent enough to discover her slumped in her front seat, they'd figure she was drunk or sleeping. He figured that the only time security would replay the recorded tape to see what happened, was if she or someone else reported the crime. Figuring that no one would report what had just happened, for the time being he was home free.

"Oh, my God, I did it," he said driving away.

Never had he been so excited. He did it, he really did it. He stole a woman's bra and panty. Now getting away with one, he wanted to do more. Only, with enough malls where he lived, as if a bank robber with a multitude of banks to rob, he didn't want to hit the same mall parking lot twice.

Over the next several years, making his appearance only during the summer wicked woman hunting season, averaging three stolen bras and panties a week, he was dubbed the Gentleman Bra and Panty Bandit. He made business cards on his computer, Gentleman Bra and Panty Bandit and left them with the unconscious women. Victoria Secrets made a special line of bras and panties, called their Gentleman Bra and Panty Bandit line, lingerie that could be more quickly removed. There was an X-rated drinking game offered online, the Gentleman Bra and Panty Bandit game. A book was written detailing all the bra and panty stealing details and of all those victims who came forward to report the sexual assault, but for every woman who reported her bra and panty stolen, a dozen remained silent. A movie followed the book with Robert Downey, Jr. playing the part of the Gentleman Bra and Panty bandit.

After finding it sometimes difficult to find his victims, once the newspapers published his brazen accounts, people bought the lingerie, played the online game, read the book, and watched the movie. Now, it was as if women were going out of their way to be his victims. He continued driving around parking lots watching women and looking for down blouses and up skirts. Either his eye was more trained or he had a multitude of careless women to choose from to steal their bras and panties. Taking care not to be caught, he turned down more women than he chose to steal their bras and panties.

Coming home from work, on the pretense of helping her to change her flat tire, he stole the bra and panties of the woman he helped, that is, after he changed her tire. Perhaps, she was the one who told the newspaper that he was good looking. Perhaps, she was the reason why so many women seemed to be going out of their way to be his victims. The perfect crime for the perfect time, be on the lookout for Carl because he's watching you, while waiting for the perfect opportunity to steal your bra and sniff you panty.


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