Nayana’s morning routine was as predictable as the sunrise. She woke up early, brewed a pot of strong Ceylon tea, and prepared breakfast for her husband and two children before they left for their respective obligations. The house would then fall into a quiet rhythm, punctuated only by the soft hum of the television and the occasional chatter with her neighbors over the garden fence. Life was simple, uneventful, and predictable—until it wasn’t.

It started with the missing panties.

One afternoon, as she gathered the dried laundry from the clothesline in the backyard, Nayana noticed something odd. Her favorite pair of lace panties—the ones with the delicate floral pattern—was missing. She frowned, scanning the rack, but they weren’t there. Odd, she thought. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. Over the past few months, she’d occasionally find a pair of her underwear unaccounted for, only for it to reappear a couple of days later. But this time, when the panties returned, they carried a faint, unfamiliar scent—musky, almost stale. She held them up to her nose, curiosity getting the better of her, and recoiled slightly. Cum?

The realization sent a shiver down her spine. Someone had taken her panties, used them, and then returned them. The thought was both unsettling and strangely intriguing. Nayana tried to push it out of her mind, chalking it up to some neighborhood prank. But the pattern continued. Every few weeks, another pair would go missing, only to reappear days later, reeking of the same unmistakable odor.

One sunny afternoon, as she was folding laundry in the living room, Nayana heard faint footsteps outside. She peeked through the window, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted Kusal, the sixteen-year-old son of her next-door neighbor, standing by the clothesline. He was tall and lanky, with a boyish face that still carried traces of adolescence. But there was something about the way he moved—hesitant yet deliberate—that caught her attention.

Kusal glanced around furtively before reaching for a pair of her panties. He held them up, examining the fabric with a quiet intensity. Nayana’s breath hitched as he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the sensation. Then, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he stuffed the panties into his pocket and hurried away.

Nayana stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to confront him, to demand an explanation, but something held her back. Instead, she decided to watch and wait. Over the next few weeks, she observed Kusal’s visits with a morbid fascination. He would come once a week, always at the same time, and always take one pair of her panties. The cycle never changed: take, use, return.

But then, something shifted.

One evening, after Kusal had returned a pair of her panties, Nayana found herself alone in the house. Her husband was working late, and the kids were out with friends. The silence was suffocating, and her thoughts kept drifting back to the panties. She picked up the pair Kusal had left on the clothesline, her fingers trembling slightly as she held them up. The faint, musky scent wafted up to her nose, and something deep within her stirred.

She brought the fabric to her face, inhaling deeply. The smell was intoxicating, a mixture of sweat, salt, and something primal that she couldn’t quite name. Her body responded instantly, a warm, liquid heat pooling between her legs. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around the empty house, before letting her instincts take over.

Nayana slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her skirt, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of her own panties. She gasped softly, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. With each inhale of Kusal’s scent, the heat between her legs intensified, until she couldn’t resist the urge to touch herself.

Her fingers found their way to her slick folds, moving in slow, deliberate circles. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her hips rocking against her hand as the pleasure built. The image of Kusal—young, eager—flashed through her mind, and it only fueled her desire. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps as she edged closer to the brink.

And then, with a sharp cry, she came, her body trembling with the force of her release. Her legs quivered as she sank onto the edge of the bed, her chest heaving. She felt both exhilarated and ashamed, her mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened.

The next day, Nayana left the same pair of panties on the clothesline, a secret part of her hoping Kusal would take them. She didn’t have to wait long. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she spotted him approaching the clothesline, his movements as cautious as ever. He glanced around before picking up the panties, holding them to his nose.

Nayana watched from the window, her heart racing as Kusal’s eyes widened in surprise. He inhaled deeply, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker, more intense. Without a word, he stuffed the panties into his pocket and hurried away, leaving Nayana standing in the shadows, her body tingling with anticipation.”

Nayana had been letting this go on for months now, and it had become a dangerous, intoxicating habit. Each time she caught a whiff of Kusal’s lingering scent on her returned panties, her body would react in ways it hadn’t in years. The shame had long since faded, replaced by something far more primal. She had to admit it—she was addicted. The thrill of sniffing the panties he’d used, the way her fingers would instinctively find their way to her core, the way she’d lose herself in the waves of pleasure… It was all-consuming.

But today, Nayana decided it was time to confront him. Not out of anger, no—she had no malice in her heart. But she couldn’t let this continue without addressing it. She needed to see him, to look into his eyes and understand what drove this obsession. And maybe, just maybe, she needed to see how far this could go.

She waited patiently by the window, her heart pounding in her chest. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the yard, and the sound of birds chirping filled the air. It was so peaceful, so ordinary—a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her.

Then she saw him.

Kusal appeared at the corner of the yard, his lean frame moving with that same cautious confidence she’d come to recognize. He glanced around, his dark eyes scanning the area to ensure no one was watching. When he was satisfied, he approached the clothesline, his hands reaching for the panties she’d left out just for him.

Nayana’s breath hitched. This was it.

She moved quickly, slipping out the back door before he could react. “Kusal!” she called, her voice sharp with feigned anger.

The boy froze, his hand still clutching her panties. His eyes widened in panic as he turned to face her, his face flushing a deep shade of red. “N-Nayana Aunty!” he stammered, quickly shoving the panties into his pocket. “I—I was just…”

“Just what?” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stealing my underwear again? Do you know how inappropriate that is?”

Kusal looked down at his feet, his shoulders slumping in shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.

Nayana took a step closer, her heart racing. “You’ve been doing this for months, Kusal,” she said, her voice softening just a little. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I didn’t know it was you?”

He glanced up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and something else—desire, perhaps? “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I… I couldn’t help it.”

Nayana’s stomach fluttered at the admission. “Come inside,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “I think we need to talk.”

Kusal hesitated for a moment before nodding and following her into the house. The air between them was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence. Nayana led him to the bathroom, where she had already prepared a basin of soapy water.

“You’re going to wash the panties you took,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “All of them. Every single one you’ve ever stolen. Consider it your punishment.”

Kusal’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t argue. He pulled the panties from his pocket and dipped them into the water, his hands trembling slightly as he began to scrub. Nayana leaned against the doorframe, watching him closely.

“Why do you do it?” she asked after a moment, her voice softer now. “Why my panties?”

Kusal paused, his hands still in the water. He didn’t look at her, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke. “I… I like the smell,” he admitted. “It’s… it’s you. And… I’ve always had a crush on you, Mrs. Nayana. I don’t know why. I just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Nayana’s breath caught in her throat. A crush? She hadn’t expected that. She looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, she saw him not as a boy, but as a young man. His dark hair, his strong jawline, his lean, athletic build… he was undeniably attractive. And the way he looked at her, with such raw, unfiltered desire… it sent a shiver down her spine.

“And what do you do with them?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “After you take them?”

Kusal’s face flushed again, but he didn’t hesitate. “I… I wear them,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “And I… I touch myself. While watching porn.”

Nayana’s heart raced. He wears them? The thought was shocking but undeniably arousing. She couldn’t believe how much it affected her, how the mere idea of it made her body ache with need.

She stepped closer to him, her hand resting on the edge of the basin. “Why do you smell them before you take them?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

Kusal looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Because it’s your scent,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s… it’s like you’re there with me. I can’t explain it. It just… it drives me crazy.”

Nayana’s breath quickened. She had never seen herself as a sexual being, not anymore. But now, with Kusal’s words echoing in her mind, she felt something awaken inside her—something she hadn’t felt in years.

"Come with me," she said suddenly, her voice tight with anticipation. She turned and walked down the hall, not waiting to see if he followed. But when she reached her bedroom and turned around, he was there, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and uncertain.

"Get naked," she commanded, her voice firm but gentle.

Kusal hesitated, his hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. But then, slowly, he pulled it over his head, revealing his lean, athletic torso. His fingers moved to the waistband of his pants, and he hesitated again, his eyes flicking to hers for reassurance. Nayana nodded, and he pushed them down, stepping out of them and standing before her in nothing but his boxers.

His semi-hard cock was already visible through the thin fabric, and Nayana felt a rush of desire so intense it made her knees weak. She reached into her drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of panties, holding them out to him. "Put these on," she said, her voice trembling with need.

Kusal took the panties from her, his hands shaking slightly as he stepped into them and pulled them up. The fabric stretched tight against his growing erection, and Nayana couldn’t help but stare. She felt wetness pooling between her legs, her own arousal building with every second.

"Touch yourself," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Let me watch."

Kusal’s eyes widened, but he obeyed, his hand moving to the waistband of the panties and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Nayana felt her own hand moving to her core, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties to touch herself.

The sensation was electric, and she couldn’t hold back a moan as her fingers found her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. She watched Kusal, her hips rocking against her hand as their movements mirrored each other. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps, his strokes growing faster as he edged closer to the brink.

Nayana came first, her body trembling with the force of her release. She cried out, her hips jerking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her. Kusal wasn’t far behind. With a sharp cry, he came, his cum spilling over his hand and staining the panties she had given him.

For a moment, they just stood there, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as the reality of what they had just done settled over them. Nayana quickly pulled herself together, her mind racing. She couldn’t let this go any further— not now.

"Get dressed," she said abruptly, her voice firm. "And leave."

Kusal hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but he obeyed, pulling his clothes back on as quickly as he could. Before he left, Nayana stopped him, pulling off the panties she had been wearing and handing them to him.

"Next time," she said, her voice low and intense, "don’t steal. Just knock on the door. And keep this a secret."

Kusal nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire. He took the panties from her hand and slipped them into his pocket before turning and hurrying out the door. Nayana watched him go, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of what had just happened.

She knew this was dangerous, knew it could ruin everything. But as she closed the door and leaned against it, she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The days blurred together, each one marked by the ritual that had become their secret. Kusal’s visits grew more frequent, his hunger for Nayana’s panties matched only by her own growing obsession with the thrill of their encounters. She found herself anticipating his arrival, her body humming with a restless energy she hadn’t felt in years. The guilt that once gnawed at her edges had faded, replaced by a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

One afternoon, as the sun cast long shadows across the room, Nayana stood in front of her dresser, fingers tracing the edges of her undergarment drawer. She could hear the faint rustle of Kusal’s movements in the corner of the room, his breath shallow with excitement as he sifted through her lingerie. This time, she thought, it’s going to be different. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her decision.

With a deep breath, Nayana slowly removed her clothes, letting the fabric pool at her feet. She stood there in nothing but her light pink panties, the color a stark contrast against her rich, dark skin. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, accentuating the curves of her hips and the soft swell of her belly. She turned to face Kusal, her eyes locking with his as he froze mid-motion, a pair of her panties dangling from his fingers.

Kusal’s breath hitched, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and desire. He quickly put on the panties he’d been holding, his hands trembling slightly as he took in the sight of her. She’s… God, she’s… His thoughts scattered, unable to fully process what was happening. He had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it, but now that it was here, he felt paralyzed.

Nayana took a step toward him, her movements deliberate, confident. She reached out and placed his hand over her, guiding it to rest on the soft curve of her hip. “Make me cum, Kusal,” she whispered, her voice low and husky, each word dripping with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

Kusal’s mind went blank, his body responding before he could think. His fingers trembled as they traced the edge of her panties, the fabric damp with her arousal. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of himself, but Nayana’s steady gaze gave him the confidence he needed. His fingers slid beneath the waistband, finding the warmth of her skin, and he let out a shaky breath as he felt how wet she was.

Nayana’s lips parted in a soft moan as Kusal’s fingers brushed against her clit, tentative at first but growing more confident with each passing second. She reached down and took his other hand, guiding it to his own hardness straining against the panties he was wearing. “Feel it,” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around his length through the fabric. “Feel how much you want me.”

Kusal’s hips bucked involuntarily, a guttural groan escaping his lips as Nayana’s hand worked him through the thin barrier of her panties. The sensation was overwhelming, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t hold back, his release coming in a hot, thick rush that soaked the fabric beneath her fingers. His knees buckled, and he collapsed against her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Nayana held him steady, her legs firm beneath his weight as she continued to stroke him through the panties, milking every last drop from him. When he finally stilled, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. “We aren’t done yet, Kusal,” she whispered, her voice a sultry promise. “You need to return the favor.”

Kusal nodded, his breath still uneven as he pulled himself together. He placed his weight back on his feet, his fingers returning to Nayana’s clit with a renewed determination. Their eyes locked, the air between them charged with an electric intensity as he began to rub her in slow, deliberate circles.

Nayana’s head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as pleasure coursed through her. She had never felt anything like this before, the way Kusal’s fingers moved against her, the way his gaze bore into hers, stripping her bare. Her hips rocked against his hand, her body desperate for release, and when it finally came, it was explosive. Her legs trembled, her breath catching in her throat as she cried out his name, her juices spilling over his fingers and dripping down her thighs.

For a moment, they stood there, the only sound in the room the sound of their ragged breathing. Then Nayana bent down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of the panties Kusal was wearing. She pulled them down, the fresh scent of his cum filling the air as she held them in her hands. God, I want to bury my face in these, she thought, her desire burning hot and uncontrollable. But she held back, not wanting to appear too desperate.

She handed him the panties she’d just worn, the ones soaked with her arousal. “Thank you, Kusal,” she said softly, her voice warm and sincere. “This was… incredible.”

Kusal took the panties from her, his eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you, Nayana Aunty,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion. He turned to leave, but before he did, he stopped and looked back at her, his gaze lingering on her naked body. He brought the panties to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes locked with hers. “You’re… you’re amazing,” he whispered before turning and walking out the door.

Nayana watched him go, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of their encounter. She closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment before rushing to the bedroom. She grabbed the panties he’d left behind, the ones still sticky with his cum, and brought them to her face. The scent was intoxicating, driving her wild with desire. Her tongue darted out, licking at the fabric, the taste of him sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

She rolled onto the bed, her fingers diving between her legs as she continued to taste him, savoring every drop. Her moans filled the room, her body writhing with need as she lost herself in the sensation. “Kusal,” she whispered, his name a mantra on her lips as she came undone once more, her juices spraying all over the bed.

As she lay there, panting and spent, Nayana couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself. Once a loyal housewife, now a cum-hungry whore, she thought, the words both a confession and a realization. But as she closed her eyes, the taste of him still lingering on her lips, tongue and throat.