The adult world is aware that men sometimes steal panties. Catch the right women at the right stage of drunkenness and you’ll get an earful of outrage about the favorite lingerie they’ve had stolen. But the men who do it (and a lot of men have done it!) aren’t usually forthcoming about the reasons. Either they have more fetish for a women’s smells than they think it seemly to admit, or because it’s in aid of masturbatory practices and guys generally don’t get much social reinforcement when they admit to jacking off. Plus, you know, panty theft is kinda modestly criminal.

Here’s that rare thing, the detailed account of an unrepentant panty thief. Passing on this sort of thing is why I’ll never be able to stop blogging about sex:

Someone stole my underwear at the gym.

It’s a West Hollywood gym, where lots of huge gay muscle studs work out. So someone stole them to sniff them and jack off, I think. That was the first place my mind went, after I fruitlessly searched through my fucking bag for them like Tel Aviv airport security going through some Palestinian college kid’s backpack. Someone stole my underwear to sniff ’em and jerk off.

I can feel no moral outrage about this, because a warehouse full of underwear would have to be stolen from me, sniffed, and jacked off into before the cosmic scales are balanced. I used to do this same shit all the fucking time. When I did coke, getting down to my last couple bumps, I knew I would be up for several more hours with no drugs left and a crazy desire to beat the meat, and I would go to my building’s laundry room and raid the lost and found shelf. Nine times out of ten there would be a pair of panties there. If I was lucky, it would have been one that tumbled out of the laundry basket before even going in the washer and they would still have a good head of cuntmusk on ’em. This was when I was living on a floor full of aspiring actresses so the odds were good that I would be sniffing the vagina residue of someone hot.

Or if I was at a girl’s house after a date and I was drunk enough to do something truly sleazy I would reach into the hamper while she was taking a piss and sneak a crusty thong into the inside chest pocket of my first date blazer. Whether or not I actually scored, I knew I would be having a satisfying jack later with her taint-infused chonies draped over my face. And with luck, I’d have chosen a pair from when she was ovulating and her cunt juice was at its peak of sweetness. But either way. It just adds an element of realism. You jack off after a long drunken hookup with a chick, you have every detail of her body fresh in your mind. The taste of her skin. Add a whiff of her cunt flavor and it’s like you own a fucking holodeck.

So I get why they did it…

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