She handed them to me, then said something I never expected her to say.
“You can enjoy them however you want.”
Before that day, there had always been a charge between Kelly and I.
She wasn’t just hot.
She was “the girl”
confident, flirty, playful in that
“I know you want me”
way that didn’t come off as cocky,
just casually powerful.
She was dating one of my close friends.
But somehow, we always found time to hang out one on one.
We’d hang out. Talk.
Joke about sex, skirt the edges of confession.
We’d tackle. Tickle.
Pretend not to want what we both knew was pulsing between us.
And that day?
She was sitting on the edge of my bed in a short jean skirt.
Legs crossed.
Smirking.
Teasing me that I needed more chairs in my room.
That sitting on a bed in a dress was dangerous.
I remember wondering if I should look.
If she wanted me to.
If the friend zone was more flexible than I’d been taught.
She knew I loved panties.
I’d teased her about them before.
She never blushed
only smirked.
She wore them like she wanted someone to stare.
And then it happened.
We were alone.
Just like always.
Talking about life, love, other people
That slow, charged rhythm of being too close, too honest, too clothed.
She stood up.
Slid her fingers open her legs under her jean skirt.
and began to roll them down.
I got shy. Blushed alittle. Ok a lot.
Looked away but slowly.
She peeled them off. Slow. Bare. Confident.
She didn’t rush.
She didn’t blink.
Just stepped out of them.
Picked them up.
Walked over to me like she’d done it a thousand times.
In her hands. White cotton. Yellow bananas.
Cute. Playful. Innocent in the most fuck-me way.
“You’ve mentioned these before,”
she said.
“I know you like them.”
“They’re yours now. You can enjoy them however you want.”
I couldn’t speak. Should I smile. Was I smiling?
I just nodded. My hand was shaking as I took them from her.
They were still warm.
Still smelled like her. Still folded in the shape of her pussy.
That was the moment everything changed.
It wasn’t just the sex I craved.
It was access.
It was validation.
It was that she saw me
even in the friendzone
and still wanted to give me something intimate.
Something mine.
That fabric had touched her all day. That pussy. That curve. That scent.
And now it was in my hand.
Not because I stole it. But because she wanted me to have them.
I Treasured Them. Not For the Smell or The Fabric. For the Access.
This isn’t about lace or lingerie as a category;
it’s about what panties say without words.
About memory. Scent. Imprint. Anticipation. Trust.
It’s a communication kink.
A confession kink.
A becoming kink.
For me it’s about what the panties mean.
What they say when they’re peeking out.
What they hold when you weren’t there.
What she chose not to take off yet.
For me this panty fetish isn’t about fabric or scent as it might be for others.
It’s about access.
About memory.
About being trusted with the parts of someone they don’t show everyone.
For some of many of us with ADHD,
it’s not about control
it’s about worship.
It taps into our memory-based arousal.
It sparks our textural imprinting.
It becomes our arousal anchoring
And sometimes?
That worship starts long before we ever Fuck.
And it’s never left me.
That moment
those panties
started everything.
My love for panties.
My desire and exploration of voyeurism.
My obsession with how women choose what touches their most sensitive places.
I think about the way she looked when she handed them to me.
That smirk.
That moment of power.
I wonder if she knew.
That decades later, I’d still picture her bald pussy when I see banana print.
That I’d still crave the scent of confidence soaked into cotton.
That I’d still ache for the gift of being chosen
not to fuck, but to feel something real.
They weren’t just panties.
They were my permission slip.
My yes.
My first ritual.
And I’ve been hard for it ever since.
Erotic CTA:
Have you ever been given a pair?
Not stolen. Not borrowed.
Given. With intention.
Tell me about the first time someone trusted you with what had touched their skin all day.
Or tell me what you wish they’d hand you after they slide them off next time.