Sophie and Julie Ch. 01

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I decided to write a follow up to ‘Sophie’s Bikini’. I was going to call this ‘Confessions of a Pantie Sniffer’ but it’s much more than that. Please be aware that there is much pantie and pube sniffing in this story. Stop reading now if you are likely to be offended, but I very much hope you enjoy. As penance for my PS habit I have tried to introduce a little humour – albeit British humour. This story is set in Summer 2007.


You will recall from a previous story that Sophie is our daughter – the one with a hormonal problem and fast-growing dark brown pubic hair. Having reluctantly shaved Sophie’s pubes that first nerve-wracking time, I’d agreed to shave her again. With a beautiful 18 year old curvy, braless daughter sat cuddled on your lap it’s difficult to refuse. This approach wasn’t new to Sophie. Whether it be a £10 top-up for her mobile phone or £100 to go clothes shopping, Sophie knew that by removing her bra and unfastening the top 3 buttons of her college blouse I could be talked into parting with my hard earned cash, especially if her mother was out.

In addition to this, one time I asked Sophie if she would fetch some documents from my car. As usual the keys were in my jacket pocket, but unfortunately so were a pair of Sophie’s unwashed panties. Sally, her mother, had taken to regularly replenishing these with a freshly soiled pair every couple of days. Sally by then had started joining a friend of hers at the local church ladies group. You know the kind of thing I mean; all chat, chutney and crochet. Now I just don’t know how the subject of our personal and private life had found its way into the chat, but now I was married to a more ‘morally aware’ version of Sally. I think the panties-in-pocket approach was intended to encourage me to whack off more and so lessen my appetite for that awful, sinful pastime of intercourse … and that included starters and afters.

So I now had an 18 year old daughter to explain to. Why had I a pair of her well soiled panties with me at work? Fortunately she’d had a boyfriend who’d put her panties up to his nose and confessed he’d also sniffed his mother’s and his younger sister’s. He’d tried to explain why but Sophie hadn’t been convinced. Now she knew I did it as well I guess she was less surprised. I told her that the scent contained a very powerful pheromone that males were very attracted to and so quite a few men liked to get their pantie fix. Sophie seemed to accept that and nothing more was said.

Anyhow, back to my story. Just a few weeks after that second trim Sophie had come to me again. It was a Monday evening, as soon as her mother had gone out to her weekly pep talk with the moral do-gooders. Sophie sat herself on my lap again – you guessed it – no bra, 3 buttons open etc, etc.

“Dad,” started Sophie, “Can I ask a favour, please?’

“What is it sweetheart?” I asked.

“It’s my hair again. You know. It’s poking through my panties.”

“Surely not. It’s only 4 weeks.”

Despite Sophie’s pleas I wasn’t listening. I had been late back after a hard day at work and I was shattered. And an assortment of other excuses.

In the end Little Miss Sulky pulled her panties down and threw them at me.

“I’ll come back down in half an hour. See if you’ve changed your mind.”

Then she stormed off to her room and slammed the door.

I mulled it over. Sophie was badly in need of my services. Did her pubic hair really grow that fast? Should we persuade her to let it grow and make toupees? I smiled. What was that song? ‘The mayor of somewhere? Had a lovely daughter? I Googled it. Ah yes!

‘Bayswater … had a lovely daughter … hairs on her dicky-di-do hung down to her knees.’

We could run a little business making toupees. We could start up on Ebay – ‘Toupees made to measure, finely female scented, £300 each’. Finely scented? Would that get past Ebay’s moral guardians? In what section should I advertise? I made a mental note to look it up.

I picked up the panties. White, the best colour. I could see those lovely delicate biological stains, those stains that held the utmost fragrance. No chance trying to sell them on Ebay. Miserable buggers – I’d already tried to buy some there. I closed my eyes and held the gusset to my nose. Deeply inhaled. Mmmm a scent more wonderful than the sweetest English rose, better than anything Chanel could produce. Free, without cost, a most potent aphrodisiac. I sunk further into the chair and inhaled deeply again. Eau de pee, parfum de pussy.

My mood was beginning to lighten. I closed my eyes again and took another deep noseful of pure pussy. Mmmm, my head started to reel. Could a guy be arrested for panty sniffing?

“The defendant is charged with driving whilst under the influence of intoxicating pussy vapours, mi’lud.”

“You are sentenced to six months solitary confinement with strict conditions that you are to have no contact with any female warder. Take him down.”

This exotic, exquisite perfume made my senses reel. Deeply musky, enticingly invigorating, pure unadulterated heaven. teen porno I might just change my mind and shave some pubes after all. Sod letting them grow … the toupee business would have to wait (though I was still going to check it out on Ebay). In addition to this Sally was really pissing me off with her severe rationing of all things bright and sexual.

Sophie would have to persuade me a bit more though. Now what could I …?

I was mid way through my 14th deep inhalation of the addictive aromas when I could hear her coming down the stairs. Problem solved without any further effort on my part; Sophie came into the room with all buttons on her blouse undone. The blouse was still tucked into her grey college skirt but her delicious breasts were clearly on display. She crossed the room, boobs-a-bobbing, and sat, as was her custom, on my welcoming lap. As I mentioned in an earlier story, family nudity never had been a problem, however the beautiful feast of Sophie’s delicious naked breasts had not been so closely on display before.

The same enticing smell of cheap but perfectly acceptable perfume wafted into my nose. It seemed to be coming from Sophie’s cleavage.

“Have you changed your mind?” asked Sophie, almost seductively.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” I answered, my mouth suddenly becoming very dry.

Sophie pulled the blouse ends from out of her skirt and removed the blouse completely. I now had a totally unobstructed view of Sophie’s second best assets. Sophie’s voluntary uncovering meant that she was giving me unconditional access to them, to view, to touch, to cherish, to fondle.

Hesitantly at first I put my arm around her and my hand under her left breast. How can I ever describe how soft, how warm, how wonderful it felt? The exquisite texture of pure silky teenage breast was something too marvellous for words; ‘blissful’, ‘heavenly’ don’t even come close.

I moved my hand gently and slowly around that warm soft place, savouring every moment. Up a little and over a very stiff nipple. Sophie gasped, the sensation racing to the pleasure part of her brain. I gave each breast a most delicate squeeze and a little jiggle, kissed each aroused nipple and ran my tongue around and over it. Sophie shivered involuntarily each time a nipple was tongue-caressed and kissed.

I pulled back slightly and for several minutes I just sat there entranced by the sight and the feel of Sophie’s boobies. It’s just so difficult for me to explain the difference in softness and texture of her skin compared to Sally, my wife. Sophie’s breast muscles were strong, toned even more by her love of swimming, lifting each generous breast up from her chest to give them the most perfect shape. In the centre of each breast was an engorged nipple, mid-brown, encouraged to swell out and away from a slightly lighter areola. The vision was hypnotic. I was utterly and completely fixated. And those gorgeous blue eyes, the dimple in each cheek when she smiled, the soft luscious lips. Why, oh why had it taken me so long to fully appreciate Sophie’s beauty?

Finally I turned her face towards me and planted a kiss on her soft lips.

“Da-aa-mm,” she started to say, her protest being smothered by another kiss.

“Sshh baby, you can spare a kiss for dad, can’t you? I love you to bits.”

It took a few seconds but Sophie responded, this time opening her mouth slightly to accept the kiss.

“Stand up, please,” a polite request from me.

Sophie got up from my lap. I did likewise with a certain awkwardness. Perky Peter was already stood to attention.

I moved behind her, cupped both my hands under her breasts, my senses now intoxicated by that cheap but effective perfume. I moved to her, my groin now nestling against her small but perfectly adequate butt. Through the material of my lightweight summer trousers she couldn’t help but feel my cock pressing against her.

‘Da-aa-ad’ she exclaimed.

Sometimes I tend to turn a deaf ear. Still stood close to her I ran my hands over her breasts, boobs, titties, jugs, knockers, bazookas, love pillows. Every so often as I lightly tickled the sensitive sides of her breasts or thumbed her nipples she let out a short gasp.

Time was passing by. She-who-rules-everything would be back from her moral behaviour class in just over an hour.

“Ok, you’ve persuaded me. I’ll shave you.” A playful short hard slap on her rump. “Up those stairs!”


Retrieving her discarded blouse from the floor and stuffing her panties into my pocket, I quickly followed her. By the time I’d got the all-important trimmer from our bedroom and hidden the panties, Sophie had removed her skirt and was laid on her bed, totally naked.

I drew my breath in quickly. In the space of, what, eight or nine weeks we had moved from first nervous trimming of a mass of dark brown pubes to a somewhat seductive daughter laid naked on the bed.

How could God create such a perfect creature? 5 foot nothing, gorgeous rich brown hair, unblemished face, slender neck, breasts tricky masseur porno to die for, flat smooth stomach, curvy waist and hips, short but delightfully shaped legs, feet ending in pink-varnished toenails.

She was laid there, devoid of any gift-wrapping and awaiting my attention.

The hairs on her dicky-di-do were, admittedly, needing trimming although they were nowhere near as bad as that first time and perhaps I wouldn’t achieve my little business of made to measure toupees. I got down to the job in hand with renewed enthusiasm. As you might well imagine, the scent was very similar to the recently discarded panties. The top growth was shortened by the magic clippers in much the same way as before. I was careful to pay much attention to Sophie’s physical needs. After all, surely that was the reason she’d asked in the first place. Yes, I was sure that these recent sessions would lead to a regular job for me — at least until she left home or trusted a boyfriend to do the deed.

The top hair duly removed I took a new disposable Gillette, soaped up that delightful area and proceeded to remove every last trace of pubic hair. Again I took my time, allowing the persuasive blade of the Gillette to lightly tickle and gently arouse her sensitive valley and vulva.

The shaving finished I gently wiped over the skin, carefully cleaning away any residual hair. I smiled to myself remembering that old joke about the best way to get rid of unwanted pubic hair. Simply spit it out.

“Ok,” I said, “Job done. Can I go back to watching the telly now, please?”

An exaggerated pout came to her lips. “But you haven’t kissed it.”

How could I forget? It was a trademark of my work. Gently I bent over and kissed all the way down. All the soft silky way down from her belly button, inch by inch, letting my tongue run along that precious groove, that valley of Eden. Sophie let out a contented giggle and her legs parted in anticipation.

My tongue worked its way a little lower.

“That’s as far as my tongue can reach. I’m going.”

Another giggle. Her legs parted even more as if by remote control.

My kisses and my tongue continued downwards, very slowly. She giggled again. Her legs parted even more. I moved round so I could better access that very private area I had only viewed twice before. Most of the scent I had cherished so much had been washed away with shaving soap and water.

Sophie’s legs were parted widely now as if in a scene from a porn movie. It gave me VIP access and that little well of lubrication opened up. A sweetly scented well, a well that never ran dry. The nectar that flowed from it had a delicate taste — a taste totally different to Sally.

“Da-aa-ad, no, “protested Sophie. “Not there, no, you shouldn’t, no, da-aa-ad … oooh that’s nice.”

My tongue greedily poked into that refreshing well, trying to lap up more and more of her secret divine juice. In and out it darted, anxious not to waste a single precious drop.

“Da-aa-ad, no. NO DAD, your tongue’s inside me. No … I mean mmmm, yes there, just there. Mmmmm.

As my tongue continued to explore there I noticed her hands moved up to her breasts. Firstly one, then the other, then both together. I could her a noise. Not a moan, not a sigh, more from her throat – a cross between a breath and an ‘oh’. I looked up and Sophie was tweaking and pulling at her nipples then rubbing them with the palms of her hands. Not softly but roughly as if she was trying to hurt rather than stimulate. Time was pressing. Her mother would be back very soon.

I switched to lapping at her clit. Quite a large clit, poking well out from the skin around. I licked at it desperately as if were my last moments on earth.

“Ohhh dad, that’s … wow, I mean … ohhh. Please dad, please. Don’t stop.”

Taking note of Sophie’s somewhat cruel attention to her nipples I licked harder then started to suck at her clit, trying to suck it between my lips. Her breathing, the throaty noises became faster and her attention to her nipples became more frantic, more tweaking, more pulling. My attention to her clit followed suit, even to the point of trying to bite with my teeth.

“Ohhh dad that hurts, that hurts real good. It hurts like I’m gonna come.”

Finally, as Sophie’s breathing became faster still I unleashed a full force attack on her clit, licking as fast and as furious as I could. Her orgasm rapidly built within her, the tension becoming more and more and more … until her clit couldn’t take it any longer. Submission was inevitable. Her sexual nerve centre could resist no longer.

Sophie gave herself up to the powerful waves of orgasm with a load moan, then almost a scream as the muscle contactions ripped through tensed nerves for what seemed like minutes, though it was only a few seconds. Finally the released tension was followed by a sigh of utter satisfaction, and a broad smile on her face.

“That was utterly fantastic. Thanks dad.”


I closed the bedroom door behind türkçe alt yazı porno me and left Sophie to relish the exhilarating afterglow of an intense orgasm. I hadn’t been downstairs above 5 minutes before Sally came back. I remember there was a documentary about something on the telly. I feigned interest in it. Sally muttered something about her meeting but I wasn’t listening. I had other things on my mind.


Just 4 weeks later Sophie again asked me if I would trim her pubes, and 4 weeks after that. It wasn’t until much later that I realised it usually happened just before her monthly. My previously shy, unassuming daughter seemed to get ultra horny and came to me for help.

However, something different happened a short while later. Julie, Sophie’s friend and slightly younger than her, often used to come round to our house. Most of the time they were in Sophie’s room watching the telly, listening to music or exchanging gossip over a cup of coffee. Now that Sophie is living with her boyfriend I don’t see much of Julie which is a real pity. Last I heard of her she was doing some modelling work, but that was a couple of years ago.

I had told Sophie numerous times not to breathe a word about the little job I undertook for her occasionally. Julie and Sophie often went swimming together at weekends and sometimes on an evening. I was dumbfounded when Sophie told me that Julie had asked how she managed to shave her pubes so well and so regularly – obviously as they changed together Julie was more used to Sophie having quite a dense bush down there. During the last few weeks that had changed and Julie was anxious to know why. At first Sophie said a boyfriend had done it, but Sophie dumped boyfriends regularly. Then Sophie said she’d done it herself in the shower before finally admitting I had done it.

One evening Sophie came over to me.

“Da — ad, can I ask you something please?” she began

I knew it wasn’t concerning money. She had her blouse buttoned and her bra on underneath it.

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s Julie. I told you that she noticed my pubes are a lot smoother now. I don’t have to mess pushing them in to my bikini when we’re changing at the pool.”

I pre-empted the next question.

“If you’re going to ask if I will shave her, the answer is NO!”

“But dad. You know her, she comes here. You even fool around a little.”

That was true. A little horseplay never hurt and Julie could be quite a tease. In fact, no, Julie was usually a tease … the number of times she’d brought a drink through and made sure I saw plenty when she bent forward to put it on the coffee table. I also accepted that, as Julie’s father had left for another woman some years ago, Julie often asked me questions or sought my views on things she wouldn’t ask her mother.

“NO, NO, NO! Do you want me arrested?”

I could see the headlines in the local rag:

‘Man arrested on suspicion of indecently assaulting college girl. The man was believed to be intoxicated with pussy vapours at the time’

The pleas continued almost daily. As the weeks went by poor Perky Peter was suffering neglect. The gospel according to the church ladies group decreed that regular sex was a sin. Full marital relations should be rationed to birthdays, anniversaries and ONCE only on holiday.

“Your husband will thank you,” one old dear had told her, “Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.” I’d chuckled at the malapropism.

Finally Perky Peter all but faded away, suitable only for peeing and always hanging his head in shame. Even the pantie treats were denied as Sally began to wash underwear almost daily. I threw in the towel.

“OK,’ I said at last to my precious daughter. “I give in. Julie can come round Monday week, provided your mother is out at her meeting. The only condition is that Julie provides me with her worn panties, removed and donated after her day at college, fresh and still moist, every day for a week.”

I had severe withdrawal symptoms. Panties were a desperate need – I’d even been on Ebay to see if they still denied those treats.

Sophie must have spoken to Julie straight away. Within half an hour that day’s panties were in my hand. Fresh, moist and (I thought) still slightly warm. Perky Peter was in for a treat. As soon he sensed them he rose from the dead.

Wow! What a treat indeed. Even the most discerning pantie pincher would have been highly delighted. Some may say the essence was too strong, but every girl and woman has a different diet, different exercise, different arousal during the day. Within seconds I was up to bathroom, nostrils full of the most exquisite perfume. Julie had a truly stinky twat in the best way possible. My head reeled. My senses were renewed. A heady mixture of sweat, pee, lubrication and even, occasionally, a hint of brown sauce.

To be honest this potent mix was rather hard to get used to. Julie’s panties were rather worn and in need of replacement. With father missing the family budget was stretched and clothes always came second to keeping the family fed. After a day whacking off whilst under the influence I quite looked forward to freshly supplied ones that evening. As each day passed the pungent smell became more acceptable, even the odd brown sauce stain. By the time the weekend came round the smell was very exciting and unbelievably arousing.

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