Idle Musings Lead To Wet Panties.

Torture in the Middle Ages. In particular, the activities of the Holy Inquisition. For a Catholic organisation, they excelled in pushing things into various orifices of the human body. Maybe they were compensating for something. The books I was reading also hinted that sometimes, no instruments of torture were used. The inquisitors themselves inserted themselves into their victims….making the poor sod guilty of the mortal sin of corrupting a priest. (As if!) 

But when I’m in such places, Miss Brain is constantly scoping out my surroundings. It’s the school holidays now, and there are only two sorts of young people in the library….one is those who will be taking exams next year, and the others are kids about to go to University. 

The girl Miss Brain noticed had a human anatomy books open. A wannabe doctor, then? A brief thought of my friend Tig flashed through my mind. Qualified now as a doctor and well into her research specialism….something to do with fighting cancer at the rna level….getting cancer cells to destroy themselves…no, I don’t understand it either, but she will be up against major pharma companies if she succeeds. Why cure cancer in a month when you can medicate patients for decades? Just not good business. 

But my girl over there….sitting sideways on in a loose fitting summer dress which allowed a tantalising glimpse down the armhole…and I couldn’t see a bra! I was happily reading about ‘the pear’…a device like a speculum, but which could be opened much wider…used in the mouth, or vagina, or rectum and…my attention was dragged back to the girl who had reached down for something in her bag. Her loose dress had flopped forward revealing her right breast. She was small-boobed like me, but unlike me, her nipple seemed to just…taper away. When she sat upright again, she looked over at me and we exchanged smiles and went back to our reading. 

My mind was a while of thoughts. Straight? Bi? Lesbian? Maybe she hadn’t had much…if any sex other than with herself? What does she fantasise over? Miss Brain painted me images of the girl lying on her bed, one arm curled around her head with the other busy in her panties. Shaved? Hmmm…no…I don’t think so, but immaculately trimmed. An involuntary giggle erupted from me as a long distant memory floated to the surface. 

Although we all went to a convent school, we were about as irreverent as you can get, and Lisa, after a long and mind-numbingly dull RE lesson on the ‘Immaculate Virgin’ has muttered as we filed out of the classroom “the only thing immaculate about the auld bitch was the way she trimmed her pubes!” Cue wild giggling and a telling off for not reflecting on the lesson appropriately. 

This girl sat back in her chair and I tried to examine her without actually appearing to look at her. Long legs….very long, actually. I could see her sitting at a desk at home, watching porn and masturbating through her grey cotton panties. I seem to have a thing about grey panties. I have no idea why…maybe it’s just a colour thing. Grey does show wetness beautifully, but then so does a deep blue or green. 

She gets up and walks right behind me to the stacks. I wait for four seconds….that’s how long it will take the disturbance of the air to bring her scent to me…and when it comes, I am not disappointed. No cloying perfume…not even antiperspirant. No, she doesn’t smell sweaty…well…she does a little, but it’s a fresh, clean sweat. I wait…there’s more. Another few seconds and a looooong slow nasal inhale. Go too fast and it will stall and be ruined. It feels like every single molecule in the air is being analysed and there it is…clear as a pure sung note…I can smell her intimate scent. I can’t detect any pee scent, but then that’s always faint and almost not there when I smell a girl’s panties, so I’m not expecting it, but the rest…definite girl cum. 

She sits back down and Miss Brain informs me that this unknown girl is checking me out now. That’s ok…it’s just what girls do when we meet one another. I seize the moment by turning my chair outwards and moving my right knee aside while pretending to read a passage about boiling in oil. I’m not wearing panties today, and I know she will discover that in five…four…three…two…..she blinks hard and immediately looks away. That’s ok…I know she’ll look back to double check. 

I’m leaning forward now, left arm on the desk, nose buried in the book, but I can see her peripherally. My right elbow on my right knee and I wait for that double check that is surely imminent. The moment she looks, I idly reach up my skirt and touch myself for the briefest second before bringing the finger concerned first to my nose, then my lips. The whole thing takes far less time to do than to tell of it. Elbow back to knee, but hand perilously close to my sex. Another touch…and another…and another…and now, I’m unmistakably playing with myself. She doesn’t move…she doesn’t even look away. 

I could try and get her into the restroom, but I decide to finish here…now. I’m certainly close enough. I stroke my gash full length and circle my clit each time as I feel the oncoming storm. When I cum there is a little squirt…perfect…just enough. I let myself die back down then I stand and give her a full-on smile and unashamedly lick my fingers. I pause at the restroom door to look back at her. I give the tiniest inclination of my head and walk in. 

I’m washing my hands as I hear the door go and she’s beside me. “That was…incredible…I mean…in public…me…watching.” I respond with a question. “Haven't you ever let someone watch you cum?” 

“No!” The denial is vehement as I suspected it would be. 

I hold her upper arm briefly, letting myself cop a feel of her tit as I do so “You should. It’s exhilarating beyond words.” Then I turn and am almost at the door before I hear the words . Watch me?” I turn and smile. 

I know she won’t do it out there…or in the public area in here either, so I usher her into a stall.  She elects to stand while I sit. She lifts her dress and tucks it into her belt…and then her hand goes into her panties. A few moments later, they’re round her knees and I see the source of the scent earlier. A wet day, then? Her pubes are close-cropped and immaculately shaped. Her fingers are working her little bud and I know she’s close to cumming. “Give me your panties.” My voice, but not from any conscious thought. She lets them slide down and I pick them up. She carries on, and I lock eyes with her…so slowly time seems,to stand still I bring her panties closer to my face. As Hannibal Lecter would say “Closer please….closer….clooossseeerrr.” I extend my tongue and at the exact moment I contact the wet sticky patch, she cums violently. 

When she’s done…and it takes a time for her convulsions to stop, she reaches out for her panties, but instead, I slide them up my legs and she watches as I pull her wetness into contact with mine. A brief kiss and I leave her there. 

A chance encounter, yes, and virtually no contact between us, but I masturbated into her panties four  times…

….before I got home!