Sniffers, Chapter 1

by handheld

At twenty-six, Jessie knew it would be tough to go home for the summer, but she needed a break. It was to be her first summer off from school, in fact, since she began working on her PhD. The academic life had clearly become too all-consuming. After the fifth night in a row of falling asleep slumped across her lab bench, then stumbling home in the early dawn – a bizarre sort of nerd walk of shame – Jessie knew she needed a change of scene. A shift of activity.

Where was the hot young undergrad she used to be? Where was the girl with a new lover in her bed every weekend? And where had all her friends gone?

There was one easy answer to all that: everything else in her life had been crushed to nothing beneath the relentlessly churning wheels of work. Her friends were mostly out of school, onto the life after, and her lovers – any lovers she might have had or could have – well, no other lesbians in town knew she even existed anymore. Unless some of the lab rats were queer, of course.

But she was still a young woman, and there were some feelings she just couldn't resist. Even without a regular amount of lovemaking, Jessie could still find satisfaction. She had to. There was no other way to keep on working like she did, resisting the temptations to cruise, to party, to lose herself in some kind of thing with another girl.

Jessie masturbated. A lot.

At the beginning of her grad school journey, though, the lack of lovers had at first impeded her in terms of self-love. Ironically, she liked having a lover in her life for her times of private pleasure. Lovers left panties lying around. Cast-off bras and t-shirts and socks. Flip flops and boots. But it didn't take her long to adjust to her newfound solitude. After all, she had to satisfy herself somehow!

Since she'd discovered her sexual self as a child, Jessie had enjoyed little else more than burying her face in some recently worn article of women's clothing while she slid her hands all over herself, into herself. It had started with her mother's and sisters' dirty panties and socks from the hamper back at home. Her father used his own hamper and his own bathroom, so she never got around his scent. For her it had always been the musk of woman and girl that she had such easy access to. Growing up she found such soul-satisfying pleasure in lying around all evening just sniffing. She'd spend hours on end locked in her room with the CD player cranked up, surrounded by her stuffed animals on her bed, holding ripe laundry against her face and rubbing rubbing rubbing away.

As a grad student, she found nearly as much pleasure in sniffing her own things. She took care not to shower but once a week, at the most. She'd go entire months without showering in the winter. Since she kept her hair short, like a boy's, it was easy to do. Just a quick couple handfuls of water on her head in the morning, and ta-da! she was groomed. She didn't wear anti-perspirant, only a sweet-scented oil in her hairy armpits that she bought from the hippies who hawked their various oddities in the quad across from the graduate dorms. Her bras and shirts, at the end of a day, smelled simply delicious!

Even in the summer she wore boots or tennis shoes as a general rule, always with socks underneath. In the evening she took great care to peel her socks off one at a time and savor them, touching herself slowly. That was usually how her masturbation sessions started. Socks, one by one to the face, covering her face, smothering her face, while she breathed through them, her head spinning from the thinner oxygen supply and the sour, pungent, animal odor. Then she loved to shove her nose up against and between each set of toes, cramming her nostrils wide open and snorting, long and hard. Sucking on her instep and heels usually came next, with the tasting of her toes saved for the very end, when she was very nearly ready explode.

She didn't wipe herself when she peed. She would only wipe once when she pooped, and sometimes she wouldn't wipe at all. Her panties were therefore a lush, musky heaven that never failed to send her over the edge when nothing else could. That was usually how she ended her masturbation sessions, with panties shoved hard against her face with one hand, the crotch across her nose, while the other hand worked her vibrator down and in and out again and again and again.

Jessie suspected that, compared to most other people, she probably had a pretty weird way of getting off. But then again, maybe not. Everybody had their own odor. Everybody was daily surrounded by odor. Was it really all that strange? She wondered.

No other lover so far had shown the same level of interest – no, to be fair, the same level of obsession – with sniffing, not anywhere near the kind of lust for it that so often possessed Jessie. Sometimes she felt like a freak, alone and lonely, but that kind of mood never lasted long. She was too intellectual to stay down. The statistics were there to be found, if someone were to ever really study such a thing: inevitably, if she kept searching, Jessie knew there were other women out there with her same passion for a woman's wonderful stink. But where were they?

Those kinds of thoughts, though, were few and far between. Jessie often masturbated then got right back to work, reading some article, writing some abstract. She had little time to dwell on her solitude.

But after accidental-overnight number five at the lab, awakening in her own puddle of drool, she finally realized such a thing, in itself, was a problem. So she took the summer off. Her fellowship allowed for it. She went home, leaving each and every scrap of her work behind, determined to reconnect with the world again.

Jessie's two older sisters were married and long gone, living their brimful lives replete with jobs and kids and, at least for one, a not-so-secret man on the side. Still at home, though, was her little sister Jordan. At fifteen, she was just beginning to show an outward interest in romance – but with disappointing results, as far as their two oldest sisters were concerned. Jessie got blamed for it, of course, even though she'd graduated and gone to college before Jordan had turned eight. Jessie didn't even come out to her family for another four years after that, but apparently just being around Jordan growing up had been enough. Lesbianism was contagious. Everybody knew it.

Their mom was just their mom, though. She hadn't had sex – hadn't even dated – since the sudden death of her husband during Jessie's first year at the university. It was a running joke among the three older sisters that their mom must have bought the best vibrator in the world, to have gone over eight years with no one but herself to sleep with. She'd let herself grow quite plump – not fat, but a curvy kind of large that radiated its own special sexual heat, a ripeness and sensuality that Jessie found both arousing and disturbing whenever she went home. Her mom drank a lot, but she still sold houses like nobody else in her market, and to the Jessie it seemed as if she'd replaced her longing for cock with a lust, instead, for more and more cash.

Of course Jessie dove into their hamper, on her first night home, with delight.

Jordan played on an elite traveling soccer team, so she was gone several nights a week to practices and almost every Saturday and Sunday to some tournament or other. Accordingly, the hamper was full of her sweat-soaked sports bras, her long, thick, smelly socks, and her gloriously fragrant panties.

Her mother's panties showed up in the hamper a lot less – she didn't exercise at all and had little reason to change panties as often as Jordan – but every single one of her mother's panties was streaked in shocking brown up the back of the crotch. It was as if she'd grown just a little to fat to wipe properly. Or perhaps, like Jessie, she just didn't care to.

Jessie was in heaven.

That first evening, after arriving home alone and settling into her old bedroom, Jessie wasted no time. Her mom had texted earlier. She was headed straight from work to pick up Jordan from practice, then they'd grab pizza and come home, it would probably take an hour at least.

Naked, Jessie dumped the hamper out onto the floor. She crawled on her hands and knees across the pile of soiled and stained clothes, reveling in the odors wafting over her. She bent low and plowed her face into the fabrics, many grown semi-stiff from dried sweat.

One soccer sock in particular held her attention. She sniffed it repeatedly, the acrid, ammonia-drenched aroma making her eyes water and her head spin. Soon she was sucking it while fishing out another thick, long sock to rub all over her face and neck.

She slowly, carefully stuffed one of Jordan's sports bras up inside her soaking wet hole, then pulled it out and sucked on it instead of the sock. Drool steadily spilled out around the cotton/lycra blend and the corners of her mouth and ran slickly down her neck.

Nearly ready to come, Jessie spit out the bra and began to slip pair after pair of Jordan's panties onto her head, so that the crotches were all neatly lined up over her nose and mouth. She stopped at five, when it became almost too difficult to breathe. It was incredible, fighting off the delirious, dark onset of asphyxia, sucking for air desperately through the pungent fabric. Oxygen could only arrive drenched in stink. She had to breathe in that nasty stink to live!

It was a great fantasy, to think she could die right there, choked to death in a heavenly cloud of musky, urine-scented air. Her head felt like it might explode. Her entire body shook under an onslaught of pins-and-needles pain. She broke out all over in a heavy, trembling sweat.

Then she came. One hand was shoved hard up inside herself, the other strummed furiously, joyfully, on her engorged clitoris.

After a moment, the mask of panties pulled aside slightly so she could recover, Jessie got up onto her knees and put all the clothes back into the hamper. Except for two of her mother's dirtiest panties. Those she took back to her room.

Are there any other panty, sock, and bra sniffers out there? How about when they're still being worn? This story will explore those scenarios and more (like foot and ass worship, too). And don't worry, the leslita element will appear soon enough! Your feedback is appreciated!!!