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I always suspected my twin brother had a dirty side; I just never suspected how dirty it was, and just what effect it would have on me.   I’m Suzy, shorter than average, and carrying a little more around the arse and chest than most of my friends, with shoulder length mousey coloured hair, which I generally wear in plaits.   The boys love to have something to hold onto I find.     My brother Tom and I are nearly 19.   He works as a junior in a bank, and I’m studying journalism at college.   His girlfriend’s a cock-teaser, all short skirts and tits hanging out.   I told him what I thought just over a year ago, and we’ve hardly spoken since.   I found out about a month ago, that my brother has a panty fetish.     Tom and I share a bathroom at one end of our family house, and our parents stick to the other.   Our dirty washing goes in a hamper in a corner of the bathroom.   I like to be clean, and shower morning and night.   The door to the bathroom has to be slammed to make sure the handle lock works properly.   We’ve both moaned at Dad constantly to fix it, but he never has.   Tom and I have taken to leaving a portable stereo outside the door whenever we’re in there, so the other won’t accidentally stumble in.   I came home after college as usual one Wednesday evening, after a reasonably easy day, and went to shower before going out to my part time job in istanbul travesti the local pub.   I started to throw my college clothes into the hamper of dirty washing, and noticed my favourite yellow satin panties on the top.   I’ve only got one yellow pair, and knew I’d worn them on Monday, so they should have been well down in the pile.   I took the panties out of the hamper and held them up.   They seemed a little damp, and on sniffing them, I detected the unmistakable aroma of salty spunk.   The realisation hit me like a thunderbolt, and I gushed in the pink pants I was wearing.   I was hotter and wetter than I’d been in months, and I was blushing from top to toe as I wondered who was wanking in my pants.   The list of suspects was short.   The only real possibilities were my Dad (that thought was fairly gross), my twin Tom, which on reflection wasn’t much better, or one of Tom’s friends.   I had to know, but first I had business to take care of.   I slipped a finger down the front of my pink pants and rubbed my clit furiously.   As I did this, I licked at the crotch of the yellow pants, picking up a delicate taste of spunk.   I’m a spunk demon, and whilst not as experienced as some of my friends, the three boyfriends I’ve slept with over the last year have all had the pleasure of copious blow-jobs from yours truly.   In my experience there’s nothing quite like istanbul travestileri a guy spunking down your throat.   I can’t get enough of it.   I came after 30 seconds of rubbing, and soaked the crotch of the pink pants I was wearing.   My knees buckled, and I slumped to the floor shivering all over.   My nipples were hyper-sensitive and rubbing agonisingly against the lace trim on my bra.   I was on the verge of crying.   I needed to know who the panty wanker was.   I put my dirty underwear in the hamper, and showered and got ready for work.   I had a crap night at work, as all I could think of was a meaty cock rubbing in my panties and filling them with spunk.   It was a quiet night anyway, and so my boss sent me home half an hour early.     By the time I got home, Mum and Dad were both in bed (there were some fairly disturbing creaking noises coming from their room; Yuk, surely they’re too old for that now, they’re both in their late forties!).   I went to the bathroom at our end of the house for a pee.   Whilst there, I checked the hamper, but everything was as I’d left it.   The next two days were fairly uneventful.   My life was the usual round of college, seeing friends, and working at the pub.   I checked the hamper morning and night, but there was no sign of panty tampering.   It must surely have been one of Tom’s travesti istanbul pervy mates when they came around to play mindless shoot ‘em ups on his Xbox.   Saturday mornings I always sleep late, and then meet friends in town in the afternoon.   This Saturday, I strolled downstairs in my pyjama bottoms and vest top at 11.30.   I knocked back two cups of coffee and some toast, and then strolled up to the bathroom for a leisurely session of making myself look gorgeous.     I opened the hamper to put my dirty clothes in, and low and behold, my pink panties, the ones I’d cum in so explosively three nights before, were sat on the top.   The smell of spunk was obvious.   This stuff was fresh, but I was the only one in the house.   Everyone else had gone out for the day.   It must surely have been Tom!     The thought was nowhere near as repulsive as I expected it would be.   The smell of his cum had gone straight to my head.   I needed to taste it.   I licked the sticky fluid from the crotch of my panties as I stuck the handle of my hairbrush straight up into my soaking wet pussy.   My orgasm was virtually instant.   I went back to my bedroom and fucked myself to two more orgasms with my mini vibrator (mail order over the internet is a wonderful thing), and collapsed on my bed.   I could still taste the spunk from my pants, and it tasted good.   I needed to get my hands on some good, fresh stock.   The trouble was, I still couldn’t be 100% sure that it was Tom’s.   The panty wanker seemed to like nicely used pants, so I resolved to flush him out.   My nice yellow panties were clean again.   My favourites.   My lucky pants.

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