She sat me down at the kitchen table and took a piece of paper towel and knelt down and gently dried my eyes.
"You’ll never tell anyone about this will you?"
I couldn’t believe my ears! It was a forgone conclusion that she would tell my parents and I would be beaten and humiliated. But no, apparently that wasn’t going to happen.
"You won’t will you?" she asked again.
"No, No, never. Will you?"
"I promise, Michael never."
Then she pecked me on the cheek, got up and left the room with the panties still in her hand. She went into her bedroom and came back a minute later still carrying the panties. She knelt back down and to my astonishment started to stuff the panties back into my jacket.
"That pair you had was almost brand-new Michael and I need them. This pair is old and I don’t need them anymore. I haven’t had time to wash them, but I want you to have them anyway, as long as you promise not to steal anymore clean ones from my line again"
I just couldn’t believe my ears. [I think, this is not only my earliest memory of unadulterated
kindness, it is perhaps my best.] She led me to the door and walked me down the steps, her arm around my shoulder once again. She was wearing the biggest and brightest smile I had ever seen. I loved her.
"And Michael?"
"Yes?"
"I want you to promise me that not only will you never steal my panties, but you will not steal Mrs. Lafond’s, or Mrs. Finnegan’s or Mrs. Blanchette’s panties or anyone else’s panties from any clotheslines ever again. Can you promise me that Michael?"
"Yes Elaine, I promise" Now I was grinning, because Elaine knew as well as I did that no boy, no matter how desperate, would ever consider stealing any of THOSE women’s panties.
"And besides", she said still grinning, while she stated the obvious, "You wouldn’t like them; not after you’ve already had the best panties in the city."
I floated home and stashed Elaine’s panties under my pillow. That night, after the lights were out, and everyone was asleep, I took them under the covers with me and inhaled them. I will never forget the sensation. I kept them and inhaled and tasted them until they had lost all their "personality". But still I could not part with them; and then one day they just disappeared. Kind of like Elaine, who left late that spring after her husband graduated and took a job in, of all places, Nebraska. All this happened before I ever masturbated, but these memories are as sweet to me as any I have of any of my intimate moments with any of my later lovers. I have no similar memories of any girls my own age from those early adolescent days.
Update (Dec2020): I was talking with my sister yesterday and she casually mentioned that she had found Elaine's son on Facebook and he told her that Elaine died last year. Surprised, she asked why I was tearing up. I lied and said I couldn't explain it.
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