PANTIES - NIGHT-TIME PAVEMENT SOUVENIRS!

Yesterday evening I was wandering around my neighborhood with a pipe in my mouth, when my eye fell on a pair of panties.
[I often smoke outdoors. Savage Kitten does not appreciate the perfume of fine Oriental blends, and I had a Charatan filled with Presbyterian Mixture going.]


The panties were small. The panties were a very pretty raspberry-rose. The panties were empty.


One does not often come across a clean and entirely unoccupied pair of panties.
Usually, when one stumbles across panties on the public street, they are either disreputable looking and in the gutter, or filled with a (briskly) moving posterior.
If there is merit to the posterior the latter situation is preferable.
[This is mostly speculative, you understand. I do not spend much time thinking about panties, nor strive much to see them, but merely gratefully note them in passing. It is a benefit to no longer being allowed to smoke at the office or inside cafés. This is the unintended brighter side of anti-smoking regulations.]


These panties were exceptionally reputable looking.


One has to wonder how a nice pair of panties end up on the pavement.


Did the young lady wearing them suddenly decide to go commando? Were they a spare that fell out of a rushing schoolgirl's backpack?
Were several teenagers horsing around? Was it a dare? Did someone angry run off pantyless?

Did she rush out of the house before fully dressed? There was something she forgot? Was she gaily waving them from her window at a beau?
Maybe they were drenched with perfume as a memento?


Too loose, perhaps, they may have slipped off accidentally as the wearer hurried up the hill.
She could have been too embarrassed to repossess them and thus draw attention to whatever it is that she did not want to draw attention to.


One would very much like to know whose garment lay there. Perhaps not too well (at least until a reasonable explanation of panty-loss presented itself), but definitely in nearer proximity. She can't weigh more than ninety pounds (that rules out most white women), and judging by the evidence of stretch and fabric-stress, there may be some discrete curvature.

Several weeks ago a pretty young miss got off the bus at the same stop as myself. While I paused to light up, she skipped on ahead up the hill. Petite. Winsome. Energetic.
And be-skirted.

If it was the same young lady, I am not entirely surprised that she lost her panties. Did I mention that she was petite? Very much so. In her size, almost anything is far too roomy.
Teenagers, no matter how unlike white women in size, do not like shopping in the children's department.
I do not think they make nice panties for such petite women. I will have to investigate.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================