A Swiffer is a branded cleaning product.

A snifter is one of those big goblets you drink brandy from.

I was a sniffer. Also known as Jeremy.

Recently promoted to senior at West City High School and headed rapidly for nowhere. No college plans. No ambition. No prospects.

I didn't seem to be aiming very high in life. And that was obvious to everyone around me. Especially my parents. And my sisters.

They knew I was sort of a shiftless slacker. What they didn't know that the only thing I really enjoyed in life was sniffing panties. And rubbing my cock with panties. And cumming into panties. And even gasp wearing panties.

I had been fascinated by girls' panties since I was in grade school, watching my female classmates jump rope, exposing little wisps of their cotton panties. When I got into high school, I started "borrowing" panties from my sisters and even blush my mother.

I was always so jealous of my sisters! They got such pretty, pink ruffled undies to wear while I was stuck with boring white jockeys. It was so unfair, I thought!

Each of my three older sisters had different personalities, and it showed in their lovely undies. Lisa, my oldest sister, was a senior in college. She wore sexy string bikinis. Jennifer, a college junior, wore big silky briefs with lots of lace in the front. Doreen, a college sophomore, preferred hi-cut nylon hipsters. My Mom wore simple, silky bikinis, in a variety of delicious colors.

I couldn't help myself, you know. I loved the smell of their panties, freshly liberated from the laundry basket. That womanly musk. The women's sweet perfume.

And I adored the feel of panties on my thick, hard cock.

Mom and Dad should have suspected when I volunteered to do the laundry each day. I wasn't exactly a go-getter. But I heard Mom tell Dad that she was pleased that I was taking responsibility at last.

My responsibility was to my cock. Each morning when I collected the laundry I would take the soiled panties of whoever had been home that morning into the bathroom with me. I would smell the crotch of each thoroughly, putting my poor cock into mortal distress. I was soon able to tell whose was whose by the individual smells of their pussies.

Unable to contain myself for very long, I would drape one of the soiled panties over my head, then masturbate frantically with a second soiled pair. After a mere ten or so strokes, I would spasm and shoot my desperate load into the delicious dainties. Unsatisfied, I would repeat the process at least twice more, rotating each pair of panties onto my face, sniffing and stroking. Degrading myself as I helplessly pumped my miserable seed into my trusting relatives' intimate things.

Panicked about discovery, I would then clean up and thoroughly launder the cum-drenched lingerie.

But that was only the morning.

After school, I was the only one home. So I would spend at least an hour each day wearing my sisters' panties, sometimes even wearing their high heels. I would sissy back and forth in front of a full length mirror, arousing myself until I couldn't endure it. Then I would spunk four or five times in succession, drag myself together, clean up the mess and make dinner.

Pretty depraved, huh?

You haven't heard anything yet.

It wasn't my fault, of course. It was an addiction. So I wasn't responsible for any of my actions.

My cock was always red and achy when I was wearing panties. Or smelling panties. Or even thinking about panties.

It wasn't easy for me to wear panties, since nature had played a trick on me. Though I was an obsessive pantyist, I had quite a substantial Johnson. With big, hairy heavy balls.

Each evening when I was supposed to be doing my homework, I would rub my pecker with silky panties as I dreamed about what it would be like to make love to a girl. Sticking my big cock into her wet pussy. Listening to her squeal in orgasmic delight as I skewered her.

But in the dreams, I was always dressed a lot femmier than the girl was! I envisioned myself in stockings and big, sexy heels. I ached to wear pretty nighties and lingerie. Even dresses, walking around in public. Meeting girls, taking them home, then fucking them.

Yeah, right.

Where would I meet a girl who wanted cock from someone who was girlier than she was?

Instead, I had my fantasy life. And my stolen panties. Doreen, my youngest sister, was going to a local college, so she lived at home. With her daily discards (and blush Mom's) I had plenty of sniffies. When Lisa and Jennifer were home on school vacations, I had four nicely soiled panties each day to adore.

But what kind of story would this be if I had been content with things as they were?

I began to steal panties from people outside the house. Beginning with our 21-year-old neighbor Katy. And her mother. Right off their clothesline. I was clearly playing with hot flames. Risking discovery and utter humiliation at every term.

The prospect of ruination was far too feeble to deter me.

So I pantied on.

Until my first report card of my senior year.

Funny how, if you do no schoolwork, and omit studying from your agenda, your teachers find it difficult to reward you with good grades.

I got four F's and a charity D.

And Mom and Dad hit the roof.

I was grounded until the 22nd Century. Which didn't bother me in the least since my entire social life was in my room, sniffing and wanking. But Mom and Dad took an additional step that changed my life forever. They found me a tutor - Mom's ex-sister-in-law, Aunt Carmen.

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