In The Pink
They were pink. Very definitely pink.
Nicki Welsh crouched on the floor
of the hotel bedroom and could clearly see the discarded
panties under the bed. Pink satin, with a little line
of matching lace at the edges. Not particularly expensive,
probably, but worn – and that was what interested
her.
She reached out and closed her hands
on the little bundle. Holding her breath with suppressed
excitement, she brought them out from under the bed.
She settled back on her heels and held the soft, pink
panties in her hands, contemplating them for just a
moment before carefully folding them so the stained
and marked crotch was outwards. She didn't bother to
glance round to see if she was alone: her colleague
Olga would be busy cleaning another room down the corridor,
absorbed in her own world as she cleaned.
Nicki wanted to be absorbed in these
panties. Slowly, almost reverentially, she lifted the
crotch of the knickers to her nose, drinking in the
deliciously sharp aroma of another woman's sex. The
heady, musky aroma of cunt filled her senses with an
erotic delight so powerful, so stimulating that she
would soon have to finger herself as she drank it in.
Not immediately, of course: she wanted
to sniff these panties for as long as she dare before
submitting to the overwhelming urge to bring herself
off. How long had she got? A minute? Two minutes? Please,
let it be longer, she thought as she closed her eyes
and drank in the most unique, most erotic smell in the
world. Another woman's cunt – her juices and secretions
and stains all on a small patch of pink fabric. The
absolute and intimate essence of a woman, sending flames
of lust through every part of Nicki's being.
"Oh God," Nicki whispered
as she pressed the crotch to her nose. If only she could
drink more of it for longer, then her own orgasm would
be so much more powerful. She had dreamed of finding
pink knickers too: most women guests left black or white
panties behind among all the other things they left
– unbelievable things like a prosthetic foot and
a crate of whiskey and an ivory white wedding dress
and any number of handbags and umbrellas. But the greatest
pleasure for Nicki was finding discarded and forgotten
knickers, perhaps even those abandoned deliberately
by someone who'd used the hotel for some sexual liaison
and didn't want to take home the soiled panties. But
Nicki would take them home: stuffed in her overall pocket
she would cherish them for hours – at least until
the smell faded.
Black, white, cream, yellow, red knickers,
patterned and lacy and plain and complete with little
bows... but pink was so rare, so precious that she almost
came then and there without touching herself.
"What on earth are you doing?"
said a woman's voice from behind. Not the voice of Olga,
the other chambermaid – her English hadn't got
beyond phrases like "Fuck, dirty room," and
"Keep money." Nor was it the voice of one
of the hotel's senior staff, thankfully.
It was the voice of a guest. A female
guest, looming over Nicki.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Nicki,
her face burning red as she jumped to her feet, trying
at the same time to smooth the crumpled sheets as if
that was the sole reason why she was kneeling by the
bed. She dropped the panties and hoping the woman wouldn't
notice. "I'm just the chambermaid and I'm cleaning
the room."
"No, you aren't just doing that
at all," sighed the woman. She was tall and blonde,
around age thirty, and she was looking down at Nicki
with piercing blue eyes. It was as if she knew. She
went to the half-open bedroom door and closed it, then
came back. Nicki was on her feet, her hands clasped
in anxiety, her dark brown eyes cast down in shame at
being discovered. She was twenty years old but felt
like a naughty schoolgirl.
"I came back for something,"
said the woman as she regarded Nicki carefully. "Just
a pair of knickers I'd left behind, but I see you found
them."
"Oh, these," Without looking
at the blonde, Nicki squatted, scooped up the pink knickers
by her feet and offered them.
"Yes, those are the panties,"
said the woman. It sounded as if she was smiling so
Nicki risked a glance at her. She was indeed smiling,
but she wasn't reaching out for the underwear. "Tell
you what, my dear, if you like them so much please carry
on sniffing them. I can wait a few minutes: my husband
is used to waiting."
"I wasn't sniffing them,"
Nicki protested, but weakly with her face bright red.
"Look, I understand," said
the woman. "Smelling another woman's sex is great.
I'd do it if I found them too." She sat on the
edge of a chair next to the bed, still not reaching
for the panties on offer. She had on a short skirt and
casually crossed her legs before settling back. She
really wasn't in any hurry.
Nicki hesitantly withdrew her hand,
still holding the pink knickers. "I... I don't
do this often but–" she began to say, aware
it didn't sound convincing.
"I told you I understand. When
I was your age, I worked as a chambermaid for a few
months. Oh, I know all sorts of nasty things get left
behind by careless guests, which oddly is why I came
back. The panties aren't valuable or sentimental. I
merely came in them last night while fingering myself
when my husband was in the bath, then I tossed them
aside. But as we were paying our bill I thought it unfair
to leave them for someone else to clean up." She
smiled more deeply. "But then, they seem to have
found a very pretty nose."
Nicki stared in silence, embarrassed
by the fact she had been caught sniffing the panties
but blushing even more because the woman had said she
was pretty. Well, had a pretty nose anyway.
"So, please carry on, my dear...
or would you prefer something a little more fresh?"
The seated guest uncrossed her legs and allowed her
legs to slide open. From where she stood Nicki could
see up her skirt, see the pink satin knickers she was
wearing. Without any show of embarrassment herself,
the blonde reached her right hand between her own legs
and rubbed at her crotch, moving her legs even wider
apart, the light gleaming on her hold-up stockings.
"Oh!" Nicki felt her sex
burst into flames as she watched this glamorous stranger
rubbing at her own slit through the pink knickers. Instinctively
she did the same to herself with her left hand, pressing
at the folds of her skirt and working it inward while
her right hand raised the older woman's discarded panties
back to her nose. She had never felt so alive, so aroused.
"My name is Andrea," said
the blonde, her cheeks looking flushed as she rubbed
herself harder, seeking her hard clit. "What is
your name?"
"Nicki," came the reply,
between deeply inhaling the aroma from the worn panties.
"Ah, Nicki, you are so very pretty
and you look wonderful smelling those panties of mine.
I want to cum hard while I watch you, and then you can
smell the pair I'm wearing." She gasped a little
and then continued: "Would you like that, my dear?
Would you like to drink in the smell of my cum when
it's fresh and delicious?"
Nicki nodded, concentrating on what
she could see, what she was doing to herself and most
of all what she could smell. She sat down on the bed
and opened her own legs so she could get her hand up
her uniform skirt, ashamed that her own knickers were
only white cotton but more than glad of the chance to
finger herself properly.
"Mmmm, beautiful," sighed
Andrea as she watched the young brunette sniffing panties
and fingering her crotch and looking at her with those
gorgeous dark eyes. "Absolutely beautiful. Just
as you are, Nicki. So sexy!"
The two women rubbed and caressed
and stroked and pinched themselves and came more or
less at the same moment – a deep, heartfelt gasp
from each of thrm as their inflamed cunts exploded into
bright, flaring orgasms. Only then did Nicki reluctantly
take the pink knickers from her face.
She recovered her breath. "Andrea...
I suppose you'd like these back," she said, offering
them to the blonde, who sat slumped in the chair with
her hand no longer on her sex but with her legs still
wide apart. Sitting like that Nicki could see that the
crotch of Andrea's pink panties were stained with wetness.
"No, I want you to keep them,"
sighed the older woman, quite happily. "I want
you to keep those – and the ones I've got on right
now – in exchange for the ones you're wearing."
"Mine? But they're orinary. Just
plain white–"
"Yes, but you're wearing them.
You came in them so beautifully, Nicki." The blonde's
eyes sparkled. "I want to take those panties home
and – when my useless husband is out playing golf
or wanking himself over his pathetic secret store of
dirty magazines – I can sniff them and cum again
as I think of you."
Nicki nodded. That was what she would
do too, in this woman's place. She was flattered and
excited again. "If I give them to you..."
Then she hesitated, not sure how to say this: "Can
I... Will I see you again, Andrea?"
"I visit this hotel quite often,
with my husband," laughed Andrea. "I see no
reason why you and I shouldn't exchange our stained
panties again. Do you see any reason?"
Nicki grinned. She could see no reason
at all.
"Now, my dear, I am sorry to
say I must go." Andrea stood and lifted her skirt
to pull down her pink satin knickers, the crotch glistening
with her cum juices. "These are for you,"
she said as Nicki stood to remove her own rather plain
white cotton underwear.
They swapped panties with each other,
noting the gussets were still warm and very wet. Andrea
leaned in and gave Nicki the briefest kiss. Short, but
laden with a richer and deeper promise. "Perhaps
my dear, when I come back here we can make each other
cum in our knickers before we sniff them together,"
she whispered.
Nicki's grin widened. She could see
no reason at all why they shouldn't do that.
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