I have previously chronicled in these pages how my wicked little addiction began in my Mother’s closet and quickly graduated into my first panty theft. I have also shared the sweet memories I have of Susan, the panty heiress, and my delicious descent into nylon delirium with her massive collection of confections. Perhaps the time has come for another installment. What follows here is a random collection of memories, philosophical musings, and (mostly true) stories.
My bliss at securing my first sacred pair from the perfectly twiggy Sheila was absolute. I worshiped at