Wet Girl Panties

There are different reasons why people come to my office. Some are looking to document the most important events of their lives, others want to share their experiences so others can learn. This is a place where adults can have open dialogue without fear of being judged.

Their identities will forever be protected. No one will ever know their real names. What’s said to me, in turn, will be discussed on my podcast for the world to hear.

Sandhya is a 46 year old woman, single, dark skin complexion, and she wears a modestly priced outfit that makes the most of what she can afford. She’s also the first educator that I’ve ever spoken with. When I start recording this conversation, she tenses and her nerves are on display.

“Is this the part where I reveal my deepest, darkest secrets?” she says with a hesitant smile.

“Well, this is at your leisure. We can talk about movies if it’ll help you relax.”

“No, no, I’d rather get this over with. It’s funny, I speak for a living, but something like this terrifies me.”

“That’s why it’s exciting,” I say.

“You’re right about that. Exciting, stimulating, stomach-churning.”

“Let’s begin,” I say. “So you’re a professor. Let’s start with that.”

Sandhya clears her throat. “Yes, that’s correct, I’m a professor and I teach political science and research. I’ve been teaching for close to 15 years. I love my job. I enjoy the responsibility of shaping the minds of future leaders. It sounds cliche, I know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that cliche. It’s an admirable career. I respect that.”

“Would you like to hear about a particular student now? Should we get straight to the point?”

“Whenever you’re ready. This is your forum to speak openly.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “Her name is Dani. I considered giving you a fake name, but that would take away the power of my story, in my opinion. Her name is Dani. It goes against policy and my personal ethics, but she’s a current student of mine.

She pauses, then continues, “Long blonde hair, blue eyes. The ‘all-American’ type, though the meaning of that phrase is evolving. I would describe her as somewhat outgoing, puts in effort for assignments, she’s personable, charming. She made a deep impression early in the semester because she sits near the front row. I teach in a big lecture hall, but she managed to stand out.”

“Was it Dani’s beauty that got your attention?”

“At first it was her striking blonde hair and blue eyes, but it was her outfits. Her tops are reasonable, something your average college girl would wear. A sweater with the university logo on it. Tshirts when it's a warm day. That sort of thing. But it’s Dani’s assortment of skirts that lured me. As the semester went on, her skirts became smaller.”

This interview has almost reached the main point. Sandhya seems to be experiencing a sense of shame, maybe remorse, because this is against her rules. At the same time, I notice her lips giving a slight quiver. Whatever conflict she feels, she’s also aroused by this.

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” I ask.

“At the time, I wasn’t sure, but Dani has since admitted that she did it on purpose.”

“May I ask, are you a lesbian? Do you have experience with women?”

“No, to both questions,” Sandhya replies in an instant. “My parents are from India, very conservative and traditional, and I was raised with the same values. I’ve been married to a man for most of my adult life, but that ended a few years ago. To your question, I’m not a lesbian, and I had never been with a woman.”

She’s almost defensive about it, which is something I’ll have to discuss with her later. Her defensiveness and inner-conflict make this story compelling.

“Your background is noted,” I say. “That makes the next question more interesting. How did things escalate with your student?”

“Slowly, then suddenly.”

“As with many great stories.”

“I remember everything,” she says. “I mentioned that I teach in a lecture hall. Dani often sits 2 or 3 rows back, so when she wears skirts, I can see her legs. The room has bright lighting, so her white skin shines. Her legs are often distracting and I find myself having to stand elsewhere. She ran track in high school, she later told me, so her legs are in great shape.

She continues, “This memory will always stay with me. I remember giving a lecture and Dani spread her knees apart. It was the first time she ever spread her legs that far open. It was like she was stretching. I’m ashamed to admit that I looked inside her skirt. Not because I wanted to, but because it was so blatant.”

“Does that happen often with students?”

“Not with me. I know it’s common for students to want sex with a professor. Male students have their ‘hot for teacher’ fantasy. Female students desire the power dynamic. Faculty members discuss this in the lounge sometimes. But it’s never happened to me. I’m not the type, I suppose. Certainly I’ve never had a female student do that in class.”

“What did you make of it?” I ask.

“It threw me off the lecture. I went blank for a few seconds. But here’s what got my attention. I saw her panties, a thin, light blue fabric. The center was wet. There was a dark spot from the moistness. She didn’t bother to close her legs. Her face was stoic, like nothing was wrong, and she knew I saw inside her skirt.”

“Was your immediate reaction that she was flirting with you?”

“I thought it was possible, but I couldn’t be sure at the time.”

“What did you think the stain was?”

Sandhya pauses for a moment. “I initially thought she had sex before class, that perhaps the guy dared her to taunt me. But that seemed so unlike her. Then I thought it was her period, which made more sense. It’s normal for girls that age to deal with periods or cramps during class. I notice it often during my lectures.”

“But that wasn’t the case.”

“I wish it was.”

“When did you find out the truth?” I ask. “Let’s talk about that.”

“Getting the truth was a long process. Imagine my surprise when she showed up to my office a week later. She wanted to go over an essay assignment, which seemed suspicious to me. The assignment was simple and Dani is a smart girl. In class, I can tell from her eyes that she understands every word I say.

She continues, “When that was cleared up, she sat back and asked minor questions about politics in the regions we’d been discussing in class. We’d spoken a few times prior, but that was the first time I got a true feel for her personality. My impression was that she was a sweet girl. Very nice, wholesome, I can tell she comes from a loving family. Did I mention what she was wearing?”

“No, you didn’t mention that.”

“Dani wore a sweater with the university logo on it. Sneakers on her feet. And a skirt which rode up her white thighs. Her sunshine blonde hair was in a loose ponytail. As you can imagine, it was interesting having a conversation with her.”

“Were either of you flirtatious?” I ask.

“Not intentionally. I’m sure Dani knows the kind of effect she has on people, especially with the skirt. Anyway, I must tell you about the panty discussion. This is where the story takes a dramatic twist.”

“Sure, let’s hear it. I get the sense that you’re building up to something, based on your body language.”

My comment makes Sandhya blush and she smiles. Her nerves haven’t gone away and she still has a tense demeanor. I get the impression that discussing sex with a stranger will always be difficult for her, which again, is what makes this so appealing.

“I let the question out,” she says. “When our meeting was about to end, I asked Dani to explain herself. The short skirts. The open legs. I just asked, as friendly as I could. It wasn’t a tough line of questioning. I let it out gracefully, letting her know it was safe to give me a truthful answer.

She continues, “Dani’s response was intriguing. She acted shocked. I mean genuinely shocked. Her face looked startled and her eyes opened wide. She told me it was a medical condition. An issue where small drops of pee come out at random moments. That’s why she wears the skirts and keeps her legs open, because she wants her panties to dry, or else she’d smell musty during class.”

“Did you believe her?”

“To be honest, I believed it at the time, so I apologized to her profusely. I’ve always been considerate of people's medical needs, especially as an educator. Dani laughed it off and kept saying it was okay. That she didn’t mean it, that it was a simple misunderstanding. Her face turned red with embarrassment.”

She continues, “But the more I thought about it, the more I questioned it. I tried researching it online and couldn’t find anything similar to what she described. I even called a close friend of mine, who’s a doctor, and she said that something like this would be extremely rare for a college student. My doubts started growing.

She continues, “Nonetheless, school policy is school policy. Even with the doubts I had, I went along with Dani’s excuse because questioning her further is bad practice. The modern campus leans heavily in favor of the student, so for the next two classes, I gave lectures and accepted Dani’s open legs in my direction. Eventually I felt like a fool, and I remember going home, realizing I was at the whim of a student with wet panties.”

“That sounds like it could mess with your mind. You described her as an ‘all-American’ type and wholesome. She says one thing, but her actions are something else.”

“Do you want to see her pictures?” Sandhya offers. “I can show you her Instagram account.”

“Sure.”

Sandhya takes out her phone and touches the screen and swipes until she finds what she’s looking for. She hands me the phone.

The moment I see the first picture, I understand what the fuss is about. Dani is an attractive young woman that exudes the best things about life. In the first picture, she’s smiling alongside two friends as they stand by a campus building. In another picture, she’s with her mother. Another picture shows Dani at a family party, helping themselves to food.

Time is precious so I skim the gallery. What each picture has in common is her smile. It’s infectious and highlights her sense of innocence. Same with her blue eyes that sparkle. Moments ago, Sandhya described Dani’s hair as having a ‘sunshine’ quality, which is accurate.

I hand the phone back when I’ve seen enough.

“Now it makes sense,” I say. “Dani seems like a breath of fresh air. Wholesome, like you said.”

“All you’ve seen are her pictures. She also has a great speaking voice, soft and feminine, and she knows how to articulate her thoughts. I enjoy having students like her, it makes lectures more engaging. The quality of her writing is also impressive. Here I go, now I’m starting to sound like an academic.”

I brush off the concern. “That’s what I like about this. Tell me, how did you discover the truth about Dani and her panties?”

Sandhya tries to hide a smile. “I remember this vividly. During my lecture, I noticed Dani’s legs were open. I mean, wide open. She was sitting in the third row, next to the stairs, which meant that I had a perfect line-of-sight towards her panties. It was a clearer view this time because she had lifted her skirt. Her panties were light blue, which made the wet spot more visible. And you know what stood out to me? There was this giggling, mischievous expression on her face. I’ve never seen that expression from her before.”

“Sounds provocative. What did you do?”

“I asked her to see me after class, which is funny, because it made me feel like a high school teacher instead of a university professor. It took a while for the place to clear and I wanted a straight answer. I didn’t want to chide her, but I wanted to understand the situation because she was playing games with me.

She continues, “There we were, alone in the lecture hall, and she acted like she hadn’t done anything wrong. Like she hadn’t just flashed her wet panties to distract me. I asked her a direct question about her panties and she stuck to the same story. Medical this, medical that. Dani acted like I was a substitute high school teacher who accepts any excuse. The best part was the name of her supposed medical condition.”

“What did she say?”

Sandhya smiles. “Nymphomania. With a straight face and innocent eyes, Dani said her condition was ‘nymphomania,’ meaning she was a clinically diagnosed nymphomaniac. To this day, I don’t know if she was joking or serious about the supposed diagnosis. But I remember feeling dumbfounded, having never faced this situation in all my years teaching. I’ve never had a student flaunt her sexuality in my face.”

“Before we delve into that, I want to clarify something,” I say. “How did you feel about these actions? In terms of your deeper, personal reactions.”

“My sexual feelings?”

“Correct.”

“This might be hard for me to admit,” she says. “But I liked the attention she was giving me. At first I thought it was bizarre, but I learned to enjoy the game. She’s very pretty, as you saw. Yes, I enjoyed the game as it escalated. Yes, I was aroused by the whole thing.”

“Until that point, did you masturbate thinking about her?”

“A few times, yes, I did. Maybe more than a few times. I didn’t bother to count. I’ve masturbated thinking about students before, it’s a human reaction. Dani was the first female student where I had an active fantasy.”

“What did you think about with her? Would you mind sharing?”

Sandhya takes a deep breath, hiding her shame. “The usual things, kissing, oral sex. In terms of setting, either my home or some fancy hotel. I have a thing for expensive hotels. I think they’re erotic.”

“Thank you for being honest,” I say. “Now I want to pivot back to the story. How did things escalate with Dani?”

“In the empty lecture hall, I asked why she was doing this. And why me of all people? I assumed she chose me because I was an easy target, because I wouldn’t report her, or maybe no one would believe me if I reported this to administrators. The school would think I’m exaggerating because a girl like Dani could never do such a thing. Why would she?

She continues, “According to Dani… and this truly surprised me… Dani thinks I’m attractive. Dani said she has a crush on me, she likes my accent, my maturity, the way I present myself, my dark skin color and hair. This is a girl who can have anyone she wants on campus, men or women, students or faculty. Yet she claimed I was the only person on campus she’d ever shared her panty secret with. I was flattered, to be honest. I don’t know, it made me feel special. It’s good to feel wanted.

She continues, “There was another interesting thing that Dani told me. She said that she shares a small apartment with four other girls, so privacy is non-existent. Therefore she doesn’t have adequate self-care for her ‘medical condition.’ And since my class is late in the morning, she’s pent up. That’s her explanation for keeping her legs open.”

“Let me tell you this, I’ve interviewed quite a few nymphomaniacs over the years. Dani’s explanation sounds plausible.”

“Are you serious or kidding?” Sandhya asks with squinted eyes.

“Think about it. Busy student. Running from class to class. No privacy. It’s only natural that a young woman would have issues in class at that hour.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not going to debate you, just like I didn’t debate Dani when she told me that.”

“What was the solution with Dani then?”

“I felt she was doing that -- flashing me in class -- because it was titillating to her. Anyway, I planned to ignore it. To avoid her little game. And it worked for a while. In the following two weeks, she’d open her legs, cross them, then uncross them. I saw her panties and I’d turn away. She has different colored panties, with different materials.

She continues, “But everything changed one day. When I stopped giving her the attention she desired, she uncrossed her legs towards the end of class -- she was pantyless. I saw her bare. It was only a few seconds, but I could tell she was cleanly shaven, as if she prepared for this. There was glistening fluid between her labia. It threw me off guard and I ended class early.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“I did. We spoke after class and I -- as politely as I could -- inquired why she was pantyless. Dani gave me a long explanation about how midterms were approaching, which meant that her roommates stayed in the apartment more often to study, therefore she had less privacy. She said it takes about 15 minutes to cum, so staying in the bathroom that long would be weird. And yes, she used the word ‘cum’ when speaking to me in the lecture hall.”

“I’m sure that must have been jarring, seeing a student’s vagina, then having a sexual conversation with her afterwards.”

“The moment left me speechless. Frankly, it also left me aroused. The conversation ended without a resolution, just a vague promise that she’d do better, whatever that meant. She did it again the following class. Same deal, she spread her legs as I looked in her direction. A smile on her face. No panties. Wetness. Labia, clitoris.”

“I get the impression that you’re going somewhere with this. The tone of your voice is getting higher, like there’s more emotions involved.”

Sandhya nods. “I realized I couldn’t continue the rest of the semester like that. I wasn’t going to report her either. Talking to her about it didn’t work. So I came up with a solution, for better or worse.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“As direct as possible, I told Dani that she could use my office before class as a sanctuary. That’s the exact word I used, ‘sanctuary.’ In exchange she’d have to wear her panties again in class. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“You let Dani masturbate in your office,” I answer. “That’s an interesting solution. Did the arrangement work?”

“To an extent, it did. My office is tucked away in the corner of the fourth floor. A nice, private place. About 20 minutes before class, Dani would appear in my office. She’d close the door and lock it. She’d thank me profusely, as if I were handing her a free diploma. She called me a ‘lifesaver’ and a ‘Saint,’ and she meant it each time. All for letting her masturbate in the sanctity of my office.”

“Something tells me it’s more complex than that.”

A coy expression appears on Sandhya’s face. “Well, you’ve got to think of the cleaning job for a girl like this. Truth be told, I didn’t know the gravity of what I was getting myself into, but Dani came prepared. She brought a large roll of extra-strength paper towels to my office. The paper towels are currently in my cabinet, getting smaller and smaller each week.”

“She squirts, I’m assuming.”

This makes Sandhya amused. “When was the last time you drank from a public drinking fountain? You push the silver button and a trickle of water shoots in the air, then comes down in the form of an arch.”

“If that’s a description of Dani, then I’m impressed.”

“That’s often what it looks like, not always, but mostly. She takes her panties off, places it on the table, and sits on a stack of paper towels that she folded several times. It’s done orderly, like a proper school girl who wants to keep things clean for a teacher. She’s never missed a drop, never made a mess. It shows that she’s smart, respectful, and understands what her body is capable of.”

“So she just sits there and masturbates?” I ask.

“Yes, she tries to be quick. There’s a clock in the room which she looks at to keep track of the time. She’s always punctual, always organized.”

“Does she face you? Can you see everything?”