“They’re cotton. I’ve been wearing them for four days, just for you,” I said to Owen, a naughty caller that loves stinky panties more than any man I’ve ever talked to. “Do you want me to life my skirt, Owen? Do you want to press your nose against my panties and breathe in my scent?” He did. Desperately so. Down to his knees Owen went, his eyes eager with anticipation. That moment is so beautiful that I like to delay it, just a little. I want him to be overwhelmed with desire for the space between my legs. Then, finally, I will grant him the opportunity to sniff my smelly panties and breathe in my scent.