Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 While I admit I am a pervert - and a pedophile - my experiences have been
limited primarily to visual stimulation, both on the net and at moments of
opportunity at pools, the beach, playgrounds, etc.  I had one experience of
a live sort several years ago as a result of a hookup with a woman on the
net, who shared my interest in young girls and was local to me.  You would
think with almost 10 million people in the NYC vicinity, it would be easier
to find similar people, but surprisingly not.

   This woman and I had chatted online a bit - she had been molested by her
step father as a girl and continued to play with him on occasion, even
though now she was fast approaching 30.  I was 37 and living with a woman
and her 11 year old daughter.  I would steal her panties from the hamper,
this woman would grab her daughter's and we would meet and sniff, trade
stories and masturbate to multiple orgasms.  It was a lot more fun that
going it alone, but the next step - where either of us would actually meet
the other's girl never quite seemed to happen.  Maybe neither of us were
willing to take the next step down that long dark path.

   Several years later, living alone and back to my fantasies I had an
amazing experience.  I hate doing laundry, so weekly I would drop a big
blue bag off at the laundromat and pick it up later or the next day -
clean, folded and without any effort expended on my part.  One week there
was a little problem.  I was handed my bag as always and paid the guy
behind the counter.  I opened the bag to put my clothes away when I got
home and was greeted with a stack of panties that I wanted to dive right
into.

   There were every color and design I could imagine - if I haven't
mentioned it, I have a bit of a panty fetish.  Stripes, solids, thongs,
Little Mermaids, Powerpuff Girls; oh ho, I thought to myself - mommy and
daughter stuff here.  While my perverse imagination wanted to run wild, I
realized that none of my clothes were in this bag at all.  I admit to
pawing through a variety of things in that bag, but was delighted to see
that this was apparently a single mother with one daughter - there being no
other undies in that bag.  Mom appeared to be slim with a small bra size,
and her little girl wasn't in need of one yet.

   What tickled me the most though, was the fact that the little girl,
whose name was Jasmine, was going to day camp that summer and had her name
and address sewn into the back of several shirts.  Woo hoo.  I carefully
folded the clothes back into the bag and headed to the laundromat.  I had a
plan percolating in my mind and now step one was to see if I had any
laundry waiting for me at the laundromat.  I walked in and explained the
problem to the kid behind the counter.  Poor kid was at a loss - didn't
have any clue who he had given my bag to, no contact info was on those pink
receipts, he was one step away from crying - fearing the impending
termination from his Korean boss.

   I looked around, and since the owner was off gambling somewhere,
suggested we check the bag for any info that could lead up to the rightful
owner.  This kid considered his duty to protect the laundry like the US
Mail against keeping his job and decided this was a capital suggestion.  I
carefully guided us to the rubber banded pile of t shirts that had
Jasmine's name and address in them and acted as surprised as I could that
my idea had borne fruit.

   The laundry was only half a block from the address - and in the
direction of my home anyway, so I offered to make the switch.  And of
course, if I saw a woman heading up the block with my bag of clothing I
would stop her and tell her of the mistake.  The kid saw a chance to be
done with this problem at almost no expenditure of energy whatsoever and
practically offered to pay me for my troubles.  I smiled through it all -
as the demon inside my mind spun out the next step of the plan - and said
all would be well.

   I hoisted the bag on my shoulder and off I went.  My neighborhood is
mostly large apartment houses with a smattering of smaller ones and single
and two family homes.  I headed for the address and found myself in front
of a reasonably well kept 6 family apartment house.  Checking the bell I
saw the name Castro on the doorbell and rang it.  Surprisingly I was buzzed
right in, which struck me as a little odd for a woman with a young daughter
to do, but in I went.  I headed for the back apartment on the first floor
and the door opened as I got halfway there.

   Oh my - how to describe my first view of this lovely woman.  Maritza was
indeed petite.  Barely five feet tall in her stocking feet she had thick
luxurious black hair that framed an absolutely beautiful face.  I was
struck by that beauty immediately - she was model pretty and if it hadn't
been for her height, could easily have been working on a runway somewhere.
She was dressed in a pair of tight gray sweatpants that hung very low on
her hips, accentuating the small curve of her belly and showing her hip
bones nicely.  Her top was a bright pink teddy tee that stopped above her
navel and showed off a nice belly ring.  It also gave a very nice view of
her small breasts.  She looked about 22 or 23, but it was difficult to
tell, honestly.

   Though she had started out of the door when she opened it, she took a
look at me and my bag and stepped back quickly.  Apparently, I wasn't who
she was expecting.  She frowned at me, puzzled, and said, "Yes, can I help
you?"

   I took a small step forward, smiled and asked her if she was Jasmine
Castro's mother.  She nodded, still concerned about why a 6'2" white guy
was standing near her door, knowing her daughter's name and carrying a big
blue bag on his shoulder.  I put the bag down, introduced myself and
pointed at the bag.  "It looks like there was a mixup at the laundry, you
got mine and I got yours."

   It took a second for her to register what I was saying and just as she
was about to respond, the doorbell rang again.  Half flustered, half
distracted, she buzzed this new arrival in and tried to look over my
shoulder.  To my great and everlasting relief, it wasn't a boyfriend or a
mother or anyone who could ruin my chances, it was the pizza guy, bringing
dinner.  Lady Luck was smiling on me in all sorts of ways right now.  The
poor pizza guy couldn't get past me and the bag of laundry to get to the
door and finish his delivery.  Thinking on my feet, I took the pizza from
him, handed it to Jasmine's mother and reached into my pocket asking how
much.  The guy mumbled something that sounded about right and I gave him
enough to cover a tip - and with a significant look at him, he got the
message to beat it - though I'm sure he would have preferred to ogle the
beauty at the door rather than climb back on his bicycle and go deliver
another pizza to some abuela with a heavier beard than his.

   I could hear Maritza calling for Jasmine to come and get the pizza. 
Hearing the clatter of little girl feet I turned and saw a little girl run
up and take hold of the pizza in her mother's hand.  Jasmine was a carbon
copy of her mother - thick hair, dark olive complexion, slim build and just
as beautiful.  Looking at the two of them, they could have been twins in
the light of the hallway, if it wasn't for the height difference.  Jasmine
looked out the door and saw me and froze - half in the act of turning to
take the pizza.  Her mother noted the halt and reached out to her
daughter's shoulder, "Go, into the kitchen, now" and the little girl
scurried away, looking over her shoulder at the tall strange white guy
standing near her door.

   Maritza frowned and looked at me suspiciously, "You shouldn't have done
that."

   I thought something like that would come up - she wasn't about to have
some stranger come barging in and paying for her dinner.  Maritza knew
enough to realize there are no free lunches or pizzas and wasn't about to
get caught so off guard.

   I nodded and said, "It just seemed easier, I gave him fifteen - you can
pay me back, I'm not trying to do anything funny here.  I guess you thought
I was him when you buzzed me in so quick, huh?"

   She nodded and half smiled.  "I'm always in a hurry Friday nights to get
home and relax - once the pizza's here I feel like I'm done.  I guess I
should have looked a little more closely at the bag when I picked it up
before."

   I nodded and smiled, not looking to rush to an end, "I got all the way
home and didn't realize it wasn't mine until I opened it up, I knew it
wasn't mine, since I don't have any Powerpuff Girls panties." I watched her
eyes to see how she would take this.  It was sort of a make or break
moment. Smile meant I was having pizza for dinner, a frown or a blank look
meant otherwise.  There was a pause and then...success!  She grinned and
asked if that was the tipoff, I told her yep - all my panties were either
Barbie or Disney.  This struck her as particulary funny for some reason and
she giggled - god!  she was adorable.