Busted! Ch. 01-03bybjameson©
I watched as her little green car pulled in next to mine, and my heart skipped a beat. I had been coming to this Laundromat at basically the same time every Sunday afternoon for over a year. It was the best time I had found, since there was never anyone else here at this time, and I didn't have to worry about not finding an available washer or dryer. About seven or eight weeks ago this one woman came in while I was there, and she had been coming every week since then. She never hung around, she just put her clothes into the machine and left, returning to dry them, and returning once again to take them home.
I was attracted to her from the start. She was an inch or two taller than I, so my guess was that she was right around 6 feet tall. She was of slender build but not too thin. She always wore jeans that accentuated her long legs and rather nicely shaped butt, but loose fitting tops, as though she was trying to hide her bust. Loose fitting or not, it was obvious that she wasn't overly blessed in the breast department, which was actually one of the things I found so attractive, not being overly fond of large boobs. If I had to guess I would say she was an A-cup, possibly a small B. As I stole subtle glances at her over the past several weeks I noticed the occasional outline of a nipple pushing lightly against the fabric of her tops, which led me to believe that she probably didn't bother much with bras.
Her light brown hair was feathered back in the front and hung loosely to her shoulder blades. Though it was mostly straight, there were some loose waves once it reached her shoulders. Her face was slender as well, matching her overall build, with high cheekbones, a small pert nose, and what appeared to be brown eyes. She always appeared to be smiling even when she wasn't. She wasn't stand out in a crowd beautiful, but I found her quite sexy in an average, 30-something, girl-next-door kind of way.
I peered over the top of the magazine I was reading, trying not to be obvious as I checker her out. As usual, today she wore a pair of faded well-worn, low-rise jeans. Her top was a brown and rust, paisley patterned, smock of sorts. As always, it was very loose fitting, and was cut so the front and back angled to a point at her hips, and up the sides, exposing a surprisingly curvy waist. It was hung from her bare shoulders by a pair of thin straps that were long enough that the top left her underarms exposed, but not long enough to allow for even a hint of cleavage.
I watched as she transferred her clothes from the washer to a dryer, started it up and left. On her way out she passed within a few feet of my chair, but avoided any glance in my direction. I watched as she backed out and drove away before returning my attention to my magazine.
About 20 minutes later I heard my washer finally finish and got up to put them in a dryer. On the way back to my seat I stopped and watched her clothes spin around in her dryer. I checked the timer, noticing that they would be done in another 12 minutes. I looked out the window to make sure no one would be coming in, and then I opened her dryer. I reached in, tossing her clothes around until I spotted a lavender thong. I quickly removed it, placed it in my pocket, and restarted her dryer. I quickly glanced all around to make sure no one had come in to see what I had done before returning to my seat.
I have never had much luck with women. I didn't think I was bad looking, but I also didn't have any illusions about myself either. I wasn't going to be fawned over by drooling women when I walked down the street. I'm pretty shy to begin with, and the thought of approaching an attractive woman usually scares the hell out of me. I can't dance, so it's useless for me to hit the dance clubs, and as a result, I haven't been with a woman since my last girlfriend dumped me for a co-worker more than a year ago.
The frustrations brought on by my sexual inactivity were kept in check only by my daily masturbation sessions. I wished I owned stock in a personal lubricant company, at least then I could get back some of what I spent on the stuff every other week.
From the moment I first saw her I spent every night lying awake fantasizing about her, which of course led to many stroke sessions. Three weeks ago, and I'm still not sure exactly why, as I had never done anything like it before, I had this uncontrollable need to have something of hers. I know it sounds stupid and really pathetic, but I knew I was never going to have balls enough to actually talk to her, and I was desperate enough in my horniness, and lust for her, that I thought an article of her clothing was about the closest I'd ever get to being with her. As I rooted around in her dryer that first time it was confirmed that the girl didn't even own a bra, which I thought was sexy as hell. I found a pair of panties, and figured that surely she wouldn't notice them being missing. I thought that she'd just assume that they disappeared with the occasional sock that dryers somehow manage to eat. The fact that they were in contact on a regular basis with a part of her that I'd give just about anything to be face-to-face with, made my cock start to swell as soon as they were in my pocket.
Last week, the urge hit me again, and now here I was stealing yet another pair of her undies. I knew it was risky, that sooner or later she'd notice them being gone, but I couldn't help myself.
I was in the process of folding my clothes when she returned. Usually she folded her shirts and jeans and just threw the socks and underwear in the basket and left. Today, however she did something that scared me. She actually went through and folded her socks and panties. "Oh shit!" I thought to myself, "she's going to notice!" When she opened the dryer and looked back inside to see if anything was still in there, I knew she realized something was missing.
I practically slumped to the floor in relief when she grabbed her basket and walked out. When she came back in a minute later, my heart sank and a sudden rush of adrenaline pumped through my veins. "Fuck!" I thought, "I'm busted!"
Sure enough, she walked straight over to me. I tried to pretend I didn't notice her, all the while I'm freaking out. I thought I was going to die when she stopped at my folding table. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked, as I tried to avoid looking at her.
The two or three seconds during which I tried desperately to figure a way out of this seemed like an eternity. Realizing that I had no other options, I finally looked up and stammered nervously "Uh...Yeah...I...I guess."
"Have you been stealing my underwear?" she asked, the tone of her voice sounding slightly irritated, but also strangely curious. My eyes grew wide and my jaw dropped a bit as I tried to come up with a way to deny her accusation. Noticing the panicked look on my face, she continued, "Relax, I'm not gonna call the cops, I just want to know. I mean, it seems that every week lately I've lost another pair of underwear, and you're the only one here every time."
I looked back down at my clothes in embarrassment and shame, and uttered a barely audible "Yeah."
"Look, I'm really, really sorry, I don't know why..." I stammered.
"It's OK," she interrupted, "I mean it's a little weird and all. I just want to know why. You don't wear them do you?" she asked, her voice strangely void of anger or disgust.
I looked up into her hazel-brown eyes, for the first time noticing how strikingly beautiful they were. "No... I don't...I...uh..." I stuttered as I searched desperately for a less embarrassing explanation than the truth.
Leaning toward me slightly, she lowered her voice to a whisper and finished the sentence that I couldn't. "You masturbate with them?"
Once again I averted my eyes in shame from her intensely inquisitive gaze. "Yes," I finally admitted, as beads of sweat formed on my brow.
"OK, well definitely a little strange...but why mine?" she responded in a light-hearted voice.
I nervously avoided her gaze as I answered, "I dunno...I haven't been with a woman in a long time...and well, uh...you're...you're gorgeous."
She laughed at my reply. "Oh...Well, OK, If you say so. So what... you're... fucking me while you play with my undies?" I had no choice but to nod embarrassingly in response to her question. "Well, I guess that's kind of flattering...in a weird way," she laughed.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds. "OK, well, I gotta get going," she began, "Thank you for honest with me." She turned and began to walk away. She only took a few steps before she stopped and turned to me. "Can you do me a favor?" she asked with a smile.
"Can I get them back when you're done with them? Otherwise pretty soon I won't have any left, and then what are you gonna do?"
I laughed nervously, "Yeah. I mean, of course."
"OK...good," she replied as she bounced out the door.
All week long I looked forward to seeing her again, relieved that she didn't call the police, and rather turned on that she didn't seem to mind all that much. The days seemed to take forever to pass, and I must admit, my poor cock was sore from repeated jerk-off sessions.
Her car was already there the following Sunday when I arrived a little later than usual at the Laundromat. When I walked in she was sitting down reading a magazine, something she had never done before. She looked up at me a smiled. "Hi there! I was beginning to think you were going to try to avoid me."
I laughed shyly. "No, I just got hung up with other stuff," I replied, hoping I wouldn't have to admit that I snuck one last pud-pulling session with her thongs before I had to give them back. I only wished that they smelled more of her and less of fabric softener.
"Good," she replied. "Well, you got something for me?" she asked, still smiling, not wasting any time exchanging small talk.
"Uh, yeah...I should wash them for you first," I replied sheepishly.
"They were clean when you took them out of the dryers. Do they really need it?" she pressed, apparently taking pleasure from my obvious discomfort.
I groaned to myself. It was bad enough that she busted me taking them, then making me admit what I did with them, now she was going to make me admit that I had cum in them as well. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
I put my basket down, and took the lavender thong off the top of the pile. "Well, these are still pretty clean, but...um...I really should wash the others," I replied trying to avoid looking at her.
"I see," she said as she took the thong from me with a strange smile on her face.
I quickly went and began to throw my clothes into a washer, hoping to avoid any further interaction. Once that was done, I sat down a couple chairs away from her, knowing that in doing so I could be opening myself up to further humiliation, and grabbed a magazine.
Neither of us said a word for several minutes. I tried a few sideways glances at her, hoping she wouldn't notice. I knew she had more in store for me when I saw that she still had this same strange smile on her face, like a cat who knew she had the mouse hopelessly cornered.
I knew I was not going to enjoy whatever she decided to do. Finally she spoke. "So...what exactly do you do with them? I mean obviously you cum in them, since they need to be washed, but you could just use a tissue for that. So why do you need my underwear?"
I groaned. This girl was just having way too much fun with this. I almost wished she had just called the cops. I knew she wasn't going to let me off the hook, no matter how hard I tried to sidestep the whole thing. Finally I took a deep breath and answered her. "Well, they're yours, and uh...they're soft, and..." I grimaced as I let the rest slip softly from my lips, "they smell nice."
"There, I said it, can we just drop it now?" my brain screamed.
"Oh, so you like my fabric softener?" she teased.
"It's OK, I guess," I responded, my voice reflecting my irritation a bit more than I had planned.
"Mm-hmmm..." she replied before falling silent.
For several minutes we sat there without speaking, and I prayed that she would leave me alone to suffer my humiliation in solitude. When her washer finished it's cycle she got up, moved everything into a dryer, and returned to her seat. I never once looked up, fearful of giving her any invitation to ridicule me once again.
The minutes passed interminably slowly. I practically jumped from my chair when my washer finished. I swapped my clothes into a dryer about as slowly as humanly possible, but I still had no choice than to sit down and take my chances with her yet again.
As I returned to my seat I could have swore I saw her shaking slightly, like she was trying to stifle laughter. I wondered what more could she possibly do to me as I sat down and buried my face between the pages of the magazine I was having little luck trying to read. It was only then that I noticed that I had been leafing through the pages of Cosmo and hadn't even noticed. "What the fuck!" I thought to myself. I put the magazine back and tried to find something a bit more masculine. The options were few and I ended up having to settle for a three month old copy of People.
After several minutes of silence, I was starting to relax and think that maybe she had finally gotten her kicks at my expense and was going to leave me alone. No such luck. Out of nowhere she said cheerfully, "By the way...I'm Karen. If you're gonna steal a girl's underwear you should at least know her name, don't you think?" I couldn't help but burst out laughing. She was having way too much fun busting my balls, but I couldn't help but find her statement humorous.
I tried for several moments to come up with a witty response, but couldn't. She put her magazine down, turned to me and asked playfully, "And the pervert's name is?" I looked her in the eyes and we both lost it, laughing like a couple of kids.
Once I regained control I replied, "I'm Dan."
She extended her hand to me. "Well, Dan the panty thief, nice to meet you."
I took her hand in mine, shaking my head and chuckling at her reference to me, and replied, "Same here."
We proceeded to chat idly about the weather and actually ended up having a relatively normal conversation before we noticed that both our dryers were done.
We continued to make some innocent small talk as we folded our clothes. I handed her back the other two pairs of underwear that I had of hers, a thong and a pair of pink bikinis, and mumbled an apology. She took them and thanked me. Her next statement, however, caught me completely off guard.
"Listen," she said, "you seem like a pretty sweet guy, aside from your bizarre laundry habit." She paused for a moment, apparently searching for the right words, before continuing, "And I know it must have been embarrassing enough without me teasing you like I did...even though you know you deserved every bit of it, right?" There was nothing I could do but nod in agreement. "OK, and since you were honest and didn't try to deny it..." she paused and looked down as if embarrassed, "..and, I hate to say it, but it does kind of turn me on knowing you find my panties so exciting that you had to take them...so I'm not gonna leave you empty handed." She looked up long enough to see my surprised expression, then quickly looked away, fidgeting nervously. "So..." she went on, "You can pick any pair you want out of my basket."
"Really?" I asked eagerly.
"Yeah, really," she replied looking me right in the eye, a nervous smile on her face.
"I was even going to give you another pair to pick from, but...." she said, before drifting off.
"But what?" I asked, my curiosity rising.
"Nothing," she replied, looking away at the clothes she was folding.
After what she put me through, I thought it was only fair to get a little good-natured payback. "Oh, no, no," I said, laughing. "You're not getting off that easy. You wouldn't let me off the hook."
She looked at me and groaned at the point I made. We stared into each other's eyes unblinkingly for several seconds before she decided that she may as well 'fess up, that I probably wasn't going to drop it. Her beautiful eyes darted about anxiously as she prepared her answer. "Well..." she began, her hands fidgeting rather than folding clothes, "I thought maybe you might like something a little lighter on the fabric softener."
"Yeah..." I urged.
Rolling her eyes, she turned away from me and, looking back over her shoulder, hooked her thumb in the waistband of a black, satin g-string she was wearing, and held it out over the waist of her jeans. "These. I just put them on before coming here," she said in exhasperation.
I just stood there for a while, stunned. All I could muster after regaining my composure was, "Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously," she replied, feigning annoyance.
Shocked. Stunned. Incredulous. I was all of those, but I was still aware that I would probably never, ever get an offer like this again, so I wasted no time responding. "I'll take those then!" I said with a broad smile, pointing to her waist.
"No...you can't," she protested mildly.
"Why not?" I asked. "You said you were going to let me pick those if I wanted."
"That was before," she stated evenly.
"Uh-Uh, c'mon, before what?" I pressed.
Throwing a pair of socks she had been mangling onto the table, she turned to me, looking surprisingly vulnerable, even embarrassed. "Before I spent the past hour and a half dripping into them!" she cried, turning away to avoid my eyes. "Damn, all I can think about is what you look like when you're alone with them, and..." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. She nervously brushed her hair from her face as she looked down. "Oh God, I'm a sick puppy," she mumbled with an uncomfortable laugh.
"Hah!" I began, feeling amusingly superior at the moment, "I'm worse then, 'cuz if they're wet, they're the ones I want."
"No," she replied meekly.
"Listen," I said in mock anger, "I hate your fabric softener, I want those."
She studied me for a moment, and began to laugh. Noticing that I wasn't laughing, she asked if I was serious. "Absolutely!" I replied. She looked at me with her head tilted slightly to the side as if trying to figure out if I was playing or not. After a minute or so, she made a couple false starts toward the restroom, then, looked back at me. She started to smile and blush as though I had paid her an incredible compliment.
"I want them back," she said as she turned and walked to the ladies room. My cock began to swell as I checked out her ass as she walked. A couple minutes later she came out and strode quickly to my table with her head down. She was looking at the floor but I think she may have also noticed the slight bulge in my jeans from under the table. She reached out a clenched fist to me, depositing a neatly rolled pair of satin undies in my hand. "I guess you really did want these," she smirked as she glanced down at my restrained cock. "Just do me a favor," she said, "Wait 'til I leave before you start checking them out."
With that she threw the rest of her clothes, folded or not, into her basket. She picked it up and paused briefly. She then shocked me again by leaning over quickly and kissing me on the cheek and whispering, "Have fun!" in my ear. I rubbed myself through my jeans as I watched her long legs and cute little bottom walk out, get in her car, and leave.
For the entire week I barely managed to think about anything other than her and her black g-string. When my cock wasn't too sore from overuse, I held them to my face and masturbated as I fantasized about making love to her. Other times, I'd take them out of my drawer just to hold them to my face, losing myself in her heavenly scent, which had begun to fade as the days passed, but was still unmistakable.