Dirty Linen

I know this is wrong but it's so hard to stop, I thought swirling my head in the laundry basket. An intoxicating odour: mixed truffles - perfumed secretions - Stilton smegma, hormonal kippers, pungent scented excretions – urine, lavender, jasmine fragrant fermentations that made my mind swim. From the bathroom I tiptoed to the bedroom.

Pinkish ruffled feminine frills, mauve purple shades, crushed velvet – Rococo aesthetics, cosmetics. Fine tastes woven with deviant pathologies. 

I had developed the desire for dirty knickers as boy. Rifling through underwear draws at twelve - I became quite the conoussier - fabrics cotton, silk smells, naturally cultivate a fine nose for washing powders, detergents - perfumed body fluids. Toadstool musk’s mingled with sweet elderberry.

A huge pair of snail smeared black polyester panties clung to the bed post perversely. Enticing. I moved in marionette jerks, snatching them up. I wrapped them around my cock, flooding- warm milky thoughts – a violent erection. . .

I deliriously draped my face - a black shroud – lobster scented. I lazed back on the powderblue bed, hands behind my back inhaling - exhaling deeply... My prick sending gouts of sperm spouting out across the carpet within minutes. A shudder. I thought - dirty linen washed in public.

Dazed ashamed, I wiped myself clean with my encrusted hanky. Sopping up the semen on the floor, I pulled up my trousers and hung the kickers back upon the bedknob and left.