Linger

The figure in the bedroom opens the heavy Cedar dresser drawer and grins as it looks at the contents inside. The figure has been in the house hundreds of times but never came this room alone before, partly because of nerves, fear, intent, or a little of all three.

It's heartbeat is rapidly thumping against it's chest just being there in the room with the pink bedspread, boy band posters on the wall, and pictures of the girl and her friends. The figure looks at every photo, knowing it has all the time in the world.

Nobody was going suspect anything.

The figure knows that.

The figure is highly trusted.

Slowly the dresser drawer opens more and the contents begin to reveal themselves. The figure smiles. What lies inside the top drawer are the true prize. The reason that it's here. It licks it's lips as the contents come into view.

It's eyes widen.

The fabics.

So many.

The colors.

So diverse.

It pulls out one pair out at a time.

Thoughts begin to roll inside it's mind, thoughts so impure and dark that it's smarter to keep them secret. The secrets can't be shared. People would talk if they knew them all, and the figure couldn't have that.

The figure's fingers run aross the multiple fabrics: simple cotton, satin, silk, lace, and multi-blends. Different kinds and cuts make the figure salivate at the mear sight and touch: Briefs, bikini, low waist, cheekies, thongs, g-strings - so many to chose from daily.

The saliva falls from it's lips.

The perversion.

The thrill.

The fabric between the figure's finger ignites the lust inside. The act of rummaging through the drawer was only stage one. The owner of the panties has no idea what is occuring, she is on a long vacation with her parents and family. If she knew, she would feel violated and angered by the invasion of her privacy.

Her delicates being touched by somebody that she knows, that she trusts, that she's confided. What a betrayal. She would never forgive if she knew. The figure knows this.

Why the obsession?

It's complex.

The figure wants what it desperately needs, to make it feel more complete. The young girl who owns these panties has no idea that the figure is engrossed by her, every waking hour of every single day. Obsession. Violent or not, I do not know.

This is just act one for the figure.

The figure neatly folds the girl's underwear back and fixes the drawer the way it found it. She could never know that it was here. The figure doesn't know the end game, going along as it has the opportunity presents itself. The figure takes a long, deep breath.

Turning it's head and closing the dresser drawer, the figure finds what it wants next, the act two. It leans down in front of the white clothes basket and smiles at the wrinkled mess of clothes.

They'd be there.

The figure smiles widely and bends their knees the basket. It opens the lid and reaches inside, searching for what it already know what it wants. It's hands find the first one and picks it up with it's bare hands, no need for gloves.

She wouldn't know.

Not yet.

The figure hides in plain sight. Can come and go as it pleases, it is supposed to be here. The family trusts the figure, so nobody is the wiser. It was perfect. Wait for the vacation when it was free to delve into the perversion that quenches it's thirst.

Plain sight.

No alarm.

No camera.

They aren't needed.

The figure is there.

Safe.

Trust.

The smell is intoxicating.

The slight musk hangs on to the fabric as the nose takes it in. She left behind what the figure craves, the smell left on the underside of the purple silk panties only makes it crave her more.

The young high school senior, the delicate and innocent girl who had worn probably the day or two before, close enough to keep the scent fresh for it.

To enjoy.

To bask in.

The figure sets the pair down next to it and reaches for another one, this time a baby blue cotton thong. The scent was slightly stronger than the previous one, meaning that was worn before she left for the trip. The figure's head begins to get turned one more and more and runs it's tongue across the underside of the panties, wishing and wanting to taste whatever was left.

Desperation.

Unbridled lust.

The figure unzips it's pants and soon begins to self-pleasure. The views of the young girl dancing on a rear inside it's head. Panties in hand, against it's face, the figure masterbating intensely until the inevitable climax was reach. It's legs shook as it realized it needed to clean up and fast.

It was prepared though.

Cleaning up would be quick.

Then the figure could leave.

Just as it came in...