It would be easy to discount the occurrences of the last week as a fantasy, a fleet of fancy or even a dream had I not had the evidence before me. Three pairs of pretty, sexy, women's panties, each enchantingly sheer undergarment of delicate lace and silk defining the character of their wearer in colour shape and style, each still bearing the distinctive intoxicating fragrance of the woman who had scented them with her exquisite sex and soaked them with abundant juices. As I felt drawn to holding each pair to my nose the memory of each extreme encounter flooded my mind and made my cock firm with excitement.
I am a postgraduate student in sociology at my local University and sometimes my academic supervisor employed me to tutor groups of undergraduates in the subject of sociology of rock music. Last week I led a discussion amongst a small class of students about Grunge music which as a 'Gen X-er' I held a particular affinity. I always enjoyed these brief tutorials as a welcome relief from the tedium of day-to-day research. They were more social than the isolation of a doctoral student locked in a library or office. The tutorials also gave me a chance to check out the cute young undergraduate girls who enrolled in the many popular culture social science studies in our faculty. The class was a small one with perhaps twelve or so students in it probably equally divided in gender with a couple of quite cute but very straight laced evangelical Christian types in the class. The cute ones were always untouchable, I lamented. Nevertheless I was involved in the intellectual discussion so much that I hadn't noticed a new girl in the class who sat up the back. We were discussing the musical implications of Grunge and from the back I heard a sweet bell like voice with a distinctly Scandinavian accent and a slight breathy tone, forward an astounding insight.
"I think that the absence of the third from say Nirvana's music allowed the harmonic structure of Grunge to change key freely and oscillate in a new way between a kind of depressing minor tonality and a powerful major one. This gave the music lots of expressive qualities that former rock music didn't have because it locked itself into straight diatonic harmonies and the tension that came from blue notes. It kind of freed them up to move more freely and it showed their expressive angst. Don't you think?"
This girl obviously knew her musicology and had a deep understanding of the interaction between music and society. I looked up at her and the entire room looked at her. The men like me fell instantly in love with her, the women in envy. To say she was breathtakingly beautiful was an understatement. Her visage was imbued with its own source of light that seemed to glow and radiate when she smiled. In life she looked like she had been photographed with a soft filter. Her long honey blonde hair reflected the light in the room with its silken shine falling sensuously to her creamy shoulders. Her complexion was fair, peaches and cream without a blemish or birthmark on her face or the exposed skin of her body. She was petite and beautifully proportioned. Slender but shapely long legs, a shapely pert ass, firm round tear shaped breasts that were lifted together by her sweet sexy white silk and lace bra, visible beneath the tight white halter that encased them. The slightest trace of a nipple visible each side, her cleavage exposed and inviting. A slender waist and curvaceous hips where a short white skirt sat with the slightest hint of matching white silk panties peeking through at the waistline. I said everyone fell in love with her not lust because she had a kind of optical purity that spoke of virginity, freshness. She seemed to inspire admiration and love rather than desire. Plus her intellect was immediately apparent. When I finally found my voice I answered her question by agreeing with her and this stimulated a spirited discussion about the music as an expression of adolescent angst. Like every man in the room after that initial moment I glanced at her furtively often and each time that I did the same enticing greeted me, loving and gentle smile. When the class ended she waited for the throng of questions about assignments to leave me and came up to introduce herself.
"Hi I am Xana Sorensen. I am from Malmo in Sweden and my sister and aunt are working near here so I asked if I could come to your university to do some extra classes. I am studying sociology and music at home. Your class was very interesting to me I would love to talk to you more about this subject."
I couldn't believe I was getting a clear signal that she wanted to spend some time with me even if it was about sociology. I had rarely been so entranced by a woman so quickly and I wanted to continue being with her for as long as possible to continue the effect. I invited her to have coffee with me in the university cafΕ½ where we talked intensely about music and sociology and at the end of the two hour coffee conversation I somehow plucked up the courage to invite her to see an art movie that I was intending to see that evening. She surprised me by agreeing to come with me and wrote down the address where she was staying and her mobile phone number. She then got up and smiled, thanked me for a lovely time and walked towards the exit. I followed her splendid shapely figure as she walked away from me her hips swaying slightly on her high heels, her long shapely legs and the exquisite contours of her hips and ass swinging like a slow hypnotic pendulum out of sight.
I spent hours making myself clean and presentable and knocked on the door of her apartment at precisely 7 pm. The door swung open and a tall, willowy brunette in a figure hugging red dress greeted me. She was so obviously a model. Perhaps in her late twenties maybe my age even. There were traces of her relationship to Xana evident in her stunningly pretty eyes and face but her complexion was more tanned and olive but equally as smooth and translucent.
She smiled like Xana too, lighting up the doorway as she greeted me, introduced herself and invited me inside.
"Hello I am Felicia, Xana's aunt. She told us about you, you are the good-looking intellectual from the university that has been so helpful and friendly to Xana. Do come into our apartment. Please excuse the mess we have come her to do a modelling assignment for our family's lingerie business and we haven't yet had a chance to unpack so there are women's clothes everywhere."
She led me down a narrow hallway and I scanned her delicious tall figure from behind. It was like being in a Penthouse photo shoot she was achingly beautiful and strangely familiar. Perhaps I had seen her in a picture somewhere. The lounge room we entered had large robe suitcases opened and designer dresses and underwear strewn about chairs and hanging from every available surface. Felicia moved a few items of sexy lingerie from an armchair and bade me to sit down. She sat on the arm of a chair opposite and crossed her legs which made the split of her pencil skirt fall open to display her long shapely brown legs.
"Xana will be ready in a minute she was doing her make up a few minutes ago and she know you are here."
At that point a door opened and an almost naked young woman entered the room clad only in a pair of hot pink silk boy leg hipster panties, rubbing her shock of red hair with a white towel. Her small pert breasts exposed and her perfect body on display. Once I had gotten over the shock of yet another stunning woman this time almost naked in the room with me I noticed again how similar in appearance she was to Xana except she looked slightly older perhaps 25 and her breasts were smaller. Her hair of course was a brilliant red that made her fair complexion seem even more translucent.
"Have you seen my pink bra Felicia? I thought I saw it on the chair..."
Her voice trailed off and her face lit into one of those enchanting smiles that seemed to be a family trait.
