PEACHY OBSESSION

Two days ago I mentioned, in passing, "I prefer not to discard underwear, or ignore it. Ever. Some underwear is in fact worthy of obsession, especially if nicely ruffled, with a bit of lace, tight, and of a pleasing fruity hue.
Such as I might be wearing right now. Maybe."

Please note the word 'maybe'. It really means 'very unlikely, extremely so, so unlikely as to be hardly even imaginable'. Not likely at all.
Unfortunately some readers may believe otherwise.

Spiros remarked: "Patel Sahib will be so grateful that you are not discarding underwear."
The next commenter under that post wrote: "Please, describe it more. I am all ears", followed by "It sounds heavenly".

I am not entirely clear what sounds heavenly - is that what you imagine nicely taut fruity panties with lace edging to sound like?

If so, I cannot help you. I do not own any panties with lace.


FOUR

I do, however, posses one pair of raspberry pink panties, one pair of pale pistachio hued panties with white trim, a pale peach panty, and something rather naughty. They are different sizes, they do not fit me.
They are what you might call 'laundromat trophies'.

I would not be surprised if most men in this city have similar collections - if you use a laundromat, you tend to find such things when you return home.
Never any other garment, just panties. Women seem to be very careless about their panties at times. Just discarding them hither and thither, as the mood strikes. Quite gay and casual.

It's very strange. We men are NEVER casual about panties. From our point of view, they are probably the loveliest of garments - we often wish the attractive women in our lives would wear them.
And little else.
We men love panties.


FOUR SCORE OR MORE

Grant Patel will be keenly disappointed, I'm sure, to hear that for a brief shining moment I owned several hundred lovely cotton panties, in a variety of hues, cuts, and patterns. All of them petite.

In 1983 when I first visited the Philippines, I arrived with hardly any clothes, intending to have several items made while I was there. Except for forty cartons of American cigarettes, a crate of walnuts, pajamas, a conservative English tie, a blazer, and a phrase book, my luggage was pretty empty.
Somehow, I had forgotten to pack any underwear.

So I went to a department store in Makati. I had been up for close to forty hours, and I was tired, grumpy, and grotty. But I realized that I would need some clean items the next day, while I was being measured for slacks, shirts, and suits, at King Philip Tailors in the Quad.

Philippine cotton is very nice. I first bought briefs. Then wife-beaters. Then some tee-shirts. Then, without noticing, I veered towards the display case with women's panties.
Oooooooh, THAT looks nice! So does that one! And those! Oooooh!

Please remember, I had been awake for nearly forty hours. It may have affected my judgment.
I had NO intention of wearing the panties. But they were VERY lovely, and at the time I may have considered them a nice souvenir for everyone back in the Bay Area.


'Here's one for you, and one for you, and one for you! And this lovely one ...... is for you!!!'


I was thinking of keeping some for myself. There were plenty of them.

I knew hardly any women at that time. Probably a good thing, as I now realize that gifting panties to one's friends and colleagues might be considered odd. Possibly eccentric. By the women, if not by the men.

We men love panties.

In addition to the panties neatly folded in plastic among my regular luggage, I had supplies of panties stashed in three different places in Manila. Carefully folded, in tissue, in gaily striped carrybags.
For quite a while I dragged a very full box of spotlessly clean and crisp, never been worn but oh so soft and femmy panties, all over the Philippines. Took it back to the airport with me on the way home. Checked it in.
Then forgot to pick it up from the luggage carousel at San Francisco Airport.
I had plenty of panties, so I didn't even think about it till two weeks later.
You don't remember such things untill you NEED them.

[What's that under the seat? Why, it's a huge woven carrybag - and it too got panties!
Samples, I tell you, these are just 'samples'. Heh.]

I decided not to pursue the matter - asking around the airport for a missing crate of feminine undergoodies might have proven a little embarrassing.

Somewhere a very petite little missy, probably a Philippina, is still wearing MY underwear.
It must feel good.



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