Stealing Bras and Sniffing PantiesbySuperHeroRalph©
This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Too many readers forget to vote. Please vote.
The bra and panty bandit uses and abuses women to satisfy his obsession.
It was a hot summer day and Carl stood in his secret room relaxing naked. He had been out in the sweltering sun doing what he did best, stealing bras and sniffing panties. This was his quiet time and his alone time, while thinking about all the bras and panties that he's already seen, touched, felt, stolen, and smelled.
He had discovered a foolproof way to steal bras and sniff panties without being noticed or suspected, never mind being caught. As if making a summer gift, wish list for Santa Claus in July, instead of making a list of those who were very good, he made a secret list of those who were very bad, and checked it twice. Instead of waiting for Santa to come down his chimney, he fulfilled his wish list himself.
"Ho's! Ho's! Ho's," he laughed, instead of saying, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
He thought of all the women he used, abused, and sexually assaulted and all the women he still wanted to use, abuse, and sexually assault. On his list were all the women he wanted to publicly humiliate by stealing their most intimately personal apparel, their lingerie. As if they were gifts delivered to himself by himself, with each bra and panty he stole, he crossed his victim's name from his list. Always a different victim each time, with so very many women on his list, he didn't have to steal the bra and panty of the same woman twice.
Reliving all that he had experienced, while sequestered in his secret room and masturbating, was his reward time that he took for himself, after stealing so many bras and sniffing so many panties. As if he had stolen their bras and sniffed their panties yesterday, still fresh in his mind, he went through his collection of bras, panties, and photos that he took to earmark the occasion. With his hand gently and slowly stroking his cock to an erection, he thought of all the women he used, abused, and sexually assaulted over the days, months, and years.
In no random order, a three dimensional memory fashioned in cotton, silk, lace, and satin, his bra and panty theft list started with those women's bras and panties he loved to have to cherish. Even though she was now elderly, he targeted his old high school English teacher, Miss Richards, because she always picked on him, scolded him, and embarrassed him in front of everyone in class, whenever he was unable to recite his assignment, so very long ago. With the memory of her terrible torment still fresh in his mind, he used his bra and panty fetish to get back at her.
Just to get even, while satisfying his fetish, just for the fun of it, and just because he could, he wanted to teach his teacher a lesson that she'd never soon forget. With a short, quick puff of air and the nearly imperceptible whispering whir of feathers flying through the air...
Becoming expert at stripping women, he had her bra and panty off in short order. In the time it had taken her to hit him on his hand with her ruler or fling an eraser at his head, and then lambaste him with her caustic frustration of being the virginal old maid that she was, he had her skirt up and bunched around her back, her panties off, her blouse unbuttoned and splayed open, and her bra undone and off. It took him longer to pose her for her candid photo, than it did to undress her and remove her lingerie.
"Now look at you, Miss Richards standing there practically naked. Shame on you for making me do this to you. Shame on you, figuratively and literally," he said with a laugh.
Then, there was Roger Brown, his old, much hated boss, who called him a weirdo, before firing him. With jobs hard to find and having been denied unemployment benefits and subsequently receiving them, after he had a hearing with the state division of unemployment, he immensely enjoyed getting even with his ex-employer. The pictures of Mr. Brown's pretty wife, Audrey, that decorated his office, inspired his decision to steal her bra and sniff her panty. Then, there were all of those personal phone calls that Mr. Brown made to his wife on company time, when Carl wasn't even allowed time enough to pee, that shot Audrey to the top of his bra and panty list.
Now without a job and with plenty of time to stealthily stalk her, he waited for the right time and watched for the perfect place. Carl finally caught Audrey, as the vulnerable victim that he needed her to be. She was secluded in the far corner of a supermarket parking lot that had emptied, as quickly as it had filled. When Carl saw Audrey's car parked in the distance and she was with her adult daughter, Jenna, he couldn't help but to comment to himself.
"Bogo! Buy one, get one. Now, this is my kind of two for one sale special, but in the parking lot of the supermarket, that I like."
Audrey, no doubt, felt safely secure being in a public place with her daughter, while loading her car with groceries. So much better looking in the flesh, the pictures that he saw of them in Mr. Brown's office didn't do them justice. With the both of them leaning in their car trunk together, he took that serendipitous occasion and most opportune moment to steal the bra and sniff the panties of his boss's wife and daughter.
With just a quick, short puff of air and then another, it was done. Flying through the air, as if they were two drone darts launched in a pub at three meters distance, the tiny missiles traveled at warp speed in search of a target not on a dartboard but on a backside. The darts found the women's buttocks and the women were both immediately tranquilized.
"Double bulls-eye," said Carl getting out of his vehicle.
With Audrey, being such a petite, pretty woman, as if she was a calf in a rodeo ring and he was a cowboy being timed to see how fast he could undress her, it was his pleasure to lift up her skirt, tuck it in her belt, pull down her panty, unbutton her blouse, and remove her bra.
"Time," he said throwing up his hands and looking around, as if awaiting his official score. Having become expert at this sort of thing, if there was a record for how fast he could remove a woman's panty and bra then, surely, he just broke it.
Looking so much like her mother, like mother like daughter, he stole Jena's bra and panty, too. Then, with their pussies, tits, and asses so exposed, posing them together and taking one of the best photos he's ever taken, he took their picture as mother and daughter.
"You're fired," he said, while impersonating his boss's voice. "You're naked," he said, while staring at the nearly naked images of his ex-boss's wife and daughter and slowly driving away.
Still standing in the secret room in his basement, while stroking himself and remembering all of his victims, he remembered Mary Jane Robinson, his first love, now married with two kids. Always so full of herself, especially after she married a successful lawyer, she lived the good life on the other side of town. Oh, yeah, it was her big mistake, when she turned him down for a date, especially when he discovered she was playing the field and having sex with everyone else but him. She made it to his bra and panty collection list by rejecting his sexual advances, so very long ago and now that he could, it was his turn to get even.
Away from the eyes of security and surveillance cameras, parking her car where the employees parked their cars, he found her behind the mall parking lot, where she routinely took that as a cut through to avoid the crowd of shoppers. Mindlessly putting her purchases in her car, she was such an easy victim.
When he lifted up her skirt to steal and sniff her panties, he discovered that she wore pretty, blue, silk ones. A pretty woman, with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes, he was disappointed when he removed her bra and discovered that it was fully padded. With the larger sized bras she wore, he always thought she had bigger tits and now wondered, with her money, why she didn't have breast implants. No matter. He took her nearly nude photo, nonetheless.
"Who's your Daddy, now, Mary Jane? Huh? Who's your Daddy?"
He remembered back to his ex-wife's two sisters, mouthy Michelle and angry Amanda. Never shutting the Hell up, always bossing him around and telling him what to do, and with him never able to get a word in to win an argument, he couldn't wait to take their bras and sniff their panties. Not seeing him walk down the driveway and/or hearing him creep by, he caught them alone arguing with one another in their mother's backyard.
As if made of rubber, they collapsed to the ground. He lifted them and leaned them up against the backyard fence. Then, he unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled down mouthy Michelle jeans and removed and sniffed her panties, before doing the same to angry Amanda. Next he removed their sweatshirts and bras, before taking photos of their naked bodies to remember them, while masturbating in his secret room.
"Nothing to say, now that you're standing there naked, Michelle? You don't look so angry now, Amanda, standing there with your pussy, ass, and tits so exposed."
Stealing the bras and sniffing panties of women that he knew was always the most enjoyable pleasure of his sexual fetish and he couldn't wait to pose them to take their pictures, too. As if reliving places he went on vacation, he cherished the photos of his stripped women, nearly as much as he did his collection of their bras and panties.
Now, stroking his cock faster, he thought of his ex-mother-in-law, Phyllis, an older, albeit even meaner version of her daughters. He fondled her previously collected bra and panty, while staring at her nearly naked photo. The pain-in-the-ass, always talking, and never minding her own business troublemaker, just as he remembered how he couldn't wait to expose her tits, ass, and pussy, he couldn't wait to steal her big bra and steal her big panty.
Without a doubt, he had made up his mind to take her bra and sniff panty a long time ago and when he finally did, he celebrated by masturbating all over her most intimate of apparel, just as he was hoping to do now. As if a trophy on his shelf, as if her underwear was the head of a wild boar shot on safari and mounted on his wall, the nearly naked photo of his ex-mother-in-law and two ex-sisters-in-law were some of his favorite photos taken.
"What's that, Phyllis? I can't hear you. What? Did you say something? Well, in case you thought something but were unable to verbalize it because you're tranquilized, allow me to retort. Shut the fuck up, you nasty bitch with your tits, ass, and pussy so exposed."
Stroking himself faster, he thought of his MILF of an aunt, Beverly and her three daughters, his sexy cousins, Denise, Donna, and Brenda. Still wondering if it was accidental or on purpose, unmercifully teasing him every time they visited or when he visited them, he thought about all the times they supposedly, inadvertently flashed him their bra and panty. So very sexually frustrated back then, as he still is now, alone in his room and masturbating, he thought about all the times he masturbated over seeing their bras and panties. As if it was yesterday, he remembered when he finally mounted the courage and found the opportunity to take his aunt's bra and sniff her panty.
If his aunt was a MILF, albeit an older MILF now, so weren't his three sexy cousins Denise, Donna, and Brenda, that he lusted over, ever since he was a young adult, when he was filled with too much testosterone and not enough sense.
"Phffft! Phffft! Phffft!"
More challengingly difficult to steal the bras and sniff the panties of relatives without being recognized and caught, with a bit of patient planning, he stole the key to his aunt's house from his mother. Then, he managed to find the right opportunity and take all four of their bras, panties, and photos, while posing them together in their living room.
"Cockteasers! The four of you are nothing but cockteasers. When I remember all the times you made me crazy out of my mind with incestuous lust for you by accidentally on purpose flashing me your bras and panties, finally you all get what you deserve. Now, we're even, cocksuckers! Now were even."
Having already laid out the bras and panties he had stolen, along with the photos he had taken, before starting to masturbate, he masturbated over different women every day. Today he was masturbating over Miss Richards, his old English teacher, Audrey and Jenna Brown, his ex-boss's wife and daughter, Mary Jane Robinson, his unrequited love, mouthy Michelle and Angry Amanda, his ex-sisters-in-law, and Phyllis, his ex-mother-in-law. As soon as he remembered his MILF of an aunt Beverly and his three sexy cousins, Denise, Donna, and Brenda, he exploded cum everywhere.
Extending his list, after having given careful thought to it, he now had a whole new collection of women to target. Only, not as dangerous as he thought it would be, stealing bras and sniffing panties was just too damn easy. Why he hadn't thought of this before, he didn't know. The perfect crime in a time of political unrest and economic hard times, something that these targeted women would never report in a million years because of the personal embarrassment and the public humiliation, Carl was having the time of his life stealing their bras and sniffing their panties.
Hidden in his house, concealed behind a secret basement door in an underground room, aptly called his masturbation room, was his wall of shame. Carl had an entire wall of photos taken of his victims, after having stolen their bras and sniffed their panties, along with a four drawer dresser filled with bras and panties. Each bra and panty set were sealed in plastic bags with the names of the women he stole them from and the dates and places where he stole them. With their skirts raised to their waists exposing their asses and pussies, after he stole their panties, and their blouses splayed open exposing their breasts, areolas, and nipples, after he stole their bras, the candid photos he took were his aces in the hole, his trump cards to be played, should he be caught and threatened with prosecution.
If they dared tried to put him behind bars, he'd post their explicitly embarrassing photos on the Internet for all to see with the first bit of provocation. By the time the women got a court ordered injunction to have the pictures removed, their naked images would have been downloaded, viewed, and masturbated over by millions, including their friends, neighbors, relatives, and coworkers. Some of his photos were very flattering and others not so much. He knew that no woman would want to be so publicly exposed, especially in the way he took the care to pose them.
Now, instead of going out daily to see what he needed to ogle, steal what he needed to take, and sniff what he needed to smell, he more carefully chose his victims. As if having become a connoisseur of fine, French wine, after being so exposed to cheaper domestic blends, his palette for the specific wearer of bras and panties had suddenly become refined. Moving from fetish to paraphilia by stealing the bras and panties from non-consenting women, his obsession now morphed to meld with revenge. Getting even for the way that he perceived women had mistreated him, if only by the curious looks they gave him, that's all it took for them to make it to his coveted bra and panty list.
Nonetheless, Carl had reached a new pinnacle in his perverse fetish for lingerie. Presently, he had a new victim in his sight. Having done all his research, practiced and perfected his technique, and readied his alibi, he had been stalking her for weeks. Helen Murphy, the small town political big wig, was his next target.
As if a one-eyed Cyclops in his myopic viewpoint of her, he focused all his sexual attention on Helen, the town's rich bitch. Starting out as an Avon lady as her pretense to go door-to-door, she serviced the horny husbands of her never at home customers. Without doubt, she spent more time on her knees and fixing her lipstick than she did selling cosmetics.
Along the way, she made some powerfully influential friends, when she graduated from selling cosmetics and perfume to selling real estate. A woman who loved the limelight, she hit his bra and panty list, when she threw her high heel shoes in the political ring and was elected to the school committee, then city council, and finally mayor. Oh, yeah, stealing her bra and sniffing her panties would be his cope d'état.
Unable to keep her blouse properly buttoned or her knees tightly closed together, after having already stolen numerous down blouse peeks of her bra and up skirt views of her panties with every public appearance she made, he knew everything he needed to know about her. She wore a C cup, low cut, strapless bra, always white with tiny yellow and pink flowers, and one that exposed her abundant cleavage, along with shear bikini panties, either pink or yellow. Oh yeah, such a rightwing conservative and such a phony, pretending to be so reservedly modest and wholesome in public, especially when she quoted the Bible, she made a public faux pas by wearing and exposing the lingerie of hooker to her mostly male constituents.
While stalking her, with all the nefarious affairs he stumbled over her having to advance her political career, blonde, blue-eyed, pretty, and shapely, she was such a sexy slut. He wondered how much her husband would pay to have the information he had about her many lovers and how much she'd pay not to be so exposed. Having stumbled across her path years ago, when she called the police on him for leering at her, he was taken to the station, questioned and released. Yet, publicly humiliated, when handcuffed and thrown in the back of a police car in front of his neighbors, for sure, she needed to be taken down a notch or two and he was just the one to do it.
Easy to find and easier to track, he knew where she lived, where she worked, and her daily, weekly, and monthly routine. It was just a matter of getting her alone long enough to do what he needed to do. It was just a matter of time before he stole her bra and sniffed her panties, too.
Then, on a warm summer night with a full moon casting an eerie glow, he caught Helen leaving late from a political fund raiser. Always making an entrance by arriving late and with no thought to time, a gifted gabber who loved hearing the sound of her own voice, she was the last to leave. She had to walk a quarter mile in her high heels shoes down a deserted, dark country road, where she parked her car behind the others that had long since left. Naively safe in her false belief that no crimes happened in her closed community, she was an easy victim. Carl waited patiently for her in the bushes and when she opened her trunk to deposit her briefcase, campaign signs, and political materials, he struck.
As if she was made of liquid, she collapsed behind her car. With the full moon lighting what he needed to see, along with a small flashlight he held between his teeth, he lifted up her unconscious body and leaned her up against the car and removed the dart, the evidence of his physical assault. Then, feeling and touching her where only her husband should have been allowed to touch and feel her, he lifted her hem, took a step back and photographed Helen with her skirt bunched around her waist with her yellow panties so exposed.
"I'm going to take your panties, now, Helen, and when I do, I'm going to sniff and lick them," he said whispering in her ear, before squatting down and repositioning the flashlight, so that he could see all that he needed to see, once her panties were removed.