I promised Mama I would stop sniffing her panties a week earlier. She said it was weird and wrong and deviant and that it worried her, so I promised I would stop. But I couldn't help myself once I saw her dirty panties on the floor of the steamy bathroom after she left the shower.

I had to pee so bad but they were the first things I noticed when I strode quickly into the bathroom - red lace boyshorts. I tried to resist the whole time I was peeing. I would look and look away...then look, then away...then look, and stare. Since our house is full of girls, we rarely ever need to lock doors, but my addictive thirst grew stronger than my fear of getting caught and I snatched the panties up off the floor before I was even done peeing.

I buried my nose in my mom's underwear and took in her bodily scent. Oh, it was so good! I couldn't help myself. I ate her panties up sitting there on the toilet with my own lime green thong down at my ankles inside my blue jeans. I kicked the clothes off my feet and spread my legs wide, closing my eyes and reclining back to indulge my kinky little fetish. Predictably though, my mother came back to retrieve her missing panties and gasped when she saw me with a finger in my pussy and her undies in my face.

"Kira!" my mom shouted, stomping toward me to snatch the red ball of lacey decadence away from me. I snapped my legs shut and stared at her with guilt-ridden eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"I don't know," I said apologetically, looking down at the floor. "I can't help it."

Mom simply shook her head, sighed, and went away, likely to hide her panties away from me with the rest of her dirty laundry. It made me feel like such a weirdo whenever I was caught, but no matter how I felt afterward, I would always seize any and every opportunity to get at my mother's panties. A legit addiction.

My mom stopped being discreet about my little fetish around the fifth time I was caught with her sports bra, her sweaty socks, or the crotch of her dirty panties under my nose. She wasn't hesitant to tell anybody, including my little sister Charity, warning her to hide her panties from her perverted older sister. If being caught by Mom didn't make me feel like a sicko freak, being warned about made me feel like some sexual predator. Later, I even heard her talking on the phone with someone about it.

I cried myself to sleep that night when I went to bed, praying that I could be freed from such sexual deviance.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Charity woke me up by sneaking into my bedroom and under my covers, spooning herself in front of me. I didn't mind her invading my bed and my personal space. It was nice to feel the warmth of her petite little body through our thin, soft nightgowns. But I resisted wrapping my arms around her to avoid being the freak my mom knew me to be.

"Mom would kill me if she knew you were in here," I whispered in the darkness.

"I know," Charity said. "That's why I'm not gonna stay. I just wanted to give you something." She found my hand and forced something into my palm, something warm and soft and a little damp. "I've been wearing them all day."

"Your panties!" I whispered, my voice mixed with surprise, excitement, and fear. My mom would kill me for this. But once the precious ball of my sister's secrets was in my hand, I lost all control. I took the deepest whiff I could, my lengthy, athletic legs flailing and tangling with Charity's as my kitty was electrocuted awake by the beautiful aroma of my little sister. "Thank you," I hissed, "oh my god, thank you."

"Are you masturbating?" Charity asked, an apparent smile in her voice.

"Yesss," I answered heartily as I lifted my gown and slid my free hand between us, between my legs. I rubbed my clit with slippery juices from my vagina. Charity, shyly at first and then with more purpose, ground her little booty back against me. I could feel her round little rump grinding on me through her silky nightgown. Though she'd never done it before I knew it was perverted, but I didn't hate the feeling and I couldn't make myself stop her.

"I love that you masturbate to me," she whispered. "It gets me so wet."

"Oh god, you're so bad," I sighed into her panties. "You're a bad girl, such a bad girl." Her only response was a moaning giggle. I continued to masturbate. She continued to grind herself against me.

I never wanted to touch her body so badly, to lift her gown and grope her little butt, to go in between and find her tiny pucker, or down between her thighs to see how wet her sweet coochie was. My imaginings set my pussy aflame and I started rubbing myself more earnestly, punishing my achy clit until I felt that special moment approach.

"Oh, yeah!" I let out a big breath I was holding in. I put my sister's panties in my mouth, both to muffle my noises and to add fuel to my orgasm. I rubbed my slippery twat and ground forward into Charity's ass, feeling more perverted than ever before and loving it.

I lost myself in the velvet electricity of bliss, letting my now free hand fondle my little sister's ass through her thin gown. I squeezed her booty, loving the warm and soft arcs and the hot cleft in between. My ecstasy still boiling over, and still diddling my pussy, I let my hand wander around Charity's magnificent body, around the subtle curve of her hip, and up her taut tummy to her flat chest, all wrapped in the barely-there-thin pajamas.

"Oh god!" Charity sighed. "You're touching my...ooh, keep touching me!" Her chest was like a gently contoured wall of soft skin, her nipples jutting out like two light switches. I flicked them up and down, sending a current through her system. Her body twitched and spasmed against mine as she ground herself into me. I strummed my clit, still cumming when another tide poured in.

Charity was touching herself too. It wasn't uncommon for us to sneakily masturbate together. Mama had caught me diddling myself to dirty pics a long time ago and had accepted it, saying it was normal. So every once in a while, Charity and I would push the boundaries of what was acceptable and masturbate together. I was sure Mama would strongly disapprove but technically we were only masturbating. Just together. But before that night, I had never touched her like this.

I rode my magical orgasmic waves, stroking my pussy and fondling my sister until I was fully sated. Charity had at least one orgasm of her own as well. I couldn't believe how badly I wanted to lift my sister's gown and touch her ass, pull down the top of her pj's to feel the real stiffness of her nipples, go between her legs to see how wet she was and help get her off. It seemed like the natural progression, but guilt, fear, and the modicum of sisterly decency I still possessed stopped me.

As the post-masturbatory peace began to lift, regret seeped in. How could I do this!? How could I take advantage of my little sister!? As if sniffing her panties and touching myself wasn't disgusting enough! I'm such a bad big sister! I berated myself and allowed the shame to wash over me and fill me up. Tears welling in my eyes, I removed Charity's panties from my mouth to whisper meekly, "Hey babe, I think you should go back to your room."

Not knowing my inner feelings, she got up, slid her saliva-dampened panties back on, and stood by my bed. "Thanks for tonight," she said. "I love you, Kira." She kissed me on my lips for the first time, then walked out the door. I went from being guilt-ridden to confused.

Is it okay to do this to my sister if she wants it? She's only sixteen but isn't that the legal age? Or is this some twisted Stockholm Syndrome type of thing? It's still wrong. Right? But why does it feel so good? The only thing I was sure of was that I loved her too.

I woke up the next morning thinking about the night before. What we did crossed a line and was closer to lesbian sex than masturbation. I felt so guilty and perverted. I wanted to go to Charity and tell her I was sorry, that I was wrong for taking advantage of her, that I was being a bad big sister, and would never touch her like that again. But when she came home from school every day, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. And neither could I touch her like that again because of my shame, so I avoided alone time with her altogether.

But I could never help myself stealing her and Mom's dirty panties and making myself cum, just reliving that one night and imagining similar nights with Mom. What is wrong with me? I asked myself every time I made myself cum to thoughts of Mom and Sis. It wasn't long before my mother caught me again and sought answers to this very question, surprising me with an unexpected guest one afternoon.

"Hi, Kira. My name is Dr. Mia Beauregard. I am a family sex therapist. Care to have a seat?" The woman sitting next to my mother on our living room sofa gestured to the loveseat directly across from it. I walked to the spot with a curious look, glancing back and forth between my mother and this other woman.

Dr. Mia was an attractive woman probably in her mid-30s, dressed professionally in a black pencil skirt, black stockings, and a white blouse. She and my mom had a somewhat similar body type, wide hips, plush ass, and thick thighs.

But where mom was taller with double D cup breasts proportionate to her frame, Dr. Beauregard was shorter with sort of a slim upper body and a modest bust - B's possibly, A's probably. And where my mom was coated in decadent dark chocolate with black shoulder-length hair, Mia was tan-skinned, with her medium-length, curly hair dyed blonde.

Nervously, I took a seat across from the ambiguously intimidating woman. "Your mother tells me a lot about you," she said, smiling. I blushed and glared at the floor, knowing just what this was about. My disgraceful habit of huffing panties. This won't be very comfortable, I mused. "She tells me you're a lovely girl. You have good grades. You help out around the house. You look after your sister..."

I looked up, somewhat startled and pleasantly surprised. I glanced at Mom and she was smiling proudly. I relaxed some as the counselor heaped praise from my mother onto me.

"But..., your mother does have some concern about behavior that she finds rather..., disconcerting. Care to share?"

All of the previous comfort goes out the window. I take a deep breath and, figuring I should just get this over with, I tell her about my panty fetish. "Sometimes I sniff my mom's and my sister's panties...and...I masturbate with them." There, I said it. I exhaled, then looked up from the floor to the doctor.

"Tell me about the first time you did this," she said.

Stuttering nervously, I recounted the first time I sniffed my mother's panties. Such an embarrassing thing to do right in front of the woman whose panties I was sniffing. She even began to blush. After the first recollection, Dr. Mia asked for the next time..., and the next, and the next, until, after 45 minutes, I had told her about every last time I had sniffed her or my sister's panties. Of course, I left out the times I shared masturbating with Charity. I didn't want my little sister to have to endure the interrogation I just suffered.

"Now tell me, how do you feel when you do it, Kira?"

I hesitated. There was no way I could go through with this. To tell a perfect stranger how horny I felt when I smelled my mom's panties?

"C'mon, Kira, go ahead and tell me. This is a safe space here."

I took a deep breath, held it in, exhaled. Nothing. "I can't."

"Well, I can tell it gets you going when you have your family's panties like that. I can tell by your body language and your breathing, you're turned on just thinking about all those times you indulged yourself. But I need you to tell us how you felt."

My mom looked a little startled. Like she had the same thought I did. Is this woman getting off on this? Or maybe she's just unconventional. Either way, I was no closer to explaining to her how their panties made me feel so insatiably horny. I bit my tongue. "I'm sorry, I just can't. It's...embarrassing."

Dr. Beauregard thought for a few seconds, studying me with a knowing smile. It was like she saw right through me. Like she could see my thoughts lingering on memories of pretty panties, as if she knew my nipples were tight little buds inside my bra and under my shirt, like she could see the river of wetness in my vagina.

Doctor Beauregard spoke, still smiling at me. "Mom," she said, "why don't you take off your panties and give them to your daughter." A shock pulsed through me.

"What!?" my mother and I both exclaimed incredulously.

Dr. Mia sat just as comfortably and spoke just as confidently as before. "Since you are unable to describe your feelings to us, it'd be beneficial for you to show us instead."

My mother chimed in. "But, doctor, this is the behavior she's trying to quit. Would it be wise to tell an alcoholic to consume alcohol just to see its effects?"

"Your panties aren't alcohol and your daughter isn't an alcoholic. I know my techniques may be a little unconventional, but trust me when I say your daughter will be better for it. You will be better for it. Your family will be closer and happier and much more healthy. If you allow me to help."

My mom weighed the woman's sincere words for a few moments, then stood, lifted her yellow dress from the bottom, and slipped her pink and yellow striped panties from underneath. With one last I-am-not-sure-if-I-trust-you glance at the counselor, she set her panties in my hand. Warm, damp, fresh, surely delicious.

I ogled the panties, already tempted when Dr. Mia said softly, "Go ahead, Kira." I looked up at her. Then to mom. "Don't worry. She won't say anything or judge you or get mad. Right, Mom?" My mother nodded, looking somewhat uncertain. "Close your eyes and pretend no one's here if you need to."

Per the doctor's invitation, I closed my eyes and then buried my face in Mama's panties. I inhaled deeply, my pulse quickening and my own panties growing moist. "Mmmm," I let out a moan, a little embarrassed but more excited. I focused on the gusset, appreciating the ambrosia there before turning the panties to smell Mom's ass. Floral body wash, a mixture of sweat and a faint, natural musk, and the intoxicating, earthy smell of the most forbidden place on Mama's body.

Instinctively, I groped my small titties and hummed at the titillating heat radiating throughout my body. "That's it, Kira," Dr. Mia whispered, "let it take you all the way." If I had any reservations left after Mom put her panties in my hand, the hypnotic sound of Mia's voice melted them like butter in the oven. I leaned back on the sofa, still devouring Mom's underwear, and opened my eyes. In response to my questioning gaze, the counselor nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile.

At that, I pulled my tank top up over my head, removed my A-cup bra, and tossed them aside. I started to squeeze my breasts and tweak my stiffened nipples with both hands, Mama's panties tickling my brown skin. I was full of excitement, fear, and need, my heart thrashing in my chest as my lust controlled my body, pushing me along the path of pleasure.

My mom was gonna watch me masturbate. There was something so sweet about the whole thing. Behind the obvious perversion and sexual deviance, mixed with the fear and the shame and the sinful mist in the air, I felt right, good, and pure.

It was like the deepest wrongs and the most righteous of rights were woven together, right in the air between a professional counselor who had instructed a mom to give her little girl her panties, a mom unsure she should watch her daughter masturbate and a daughter overtaken by wantonness.

I unbuttoned my blue jean short shorts and shoved my hand inside, beneath my panties, Mom's panties still webbed in the hand at my breasts. My mom tried to look away but Dr. Beauregard said, "No, Mom. Keep your eyes on your beautiful daughter."

Reluctantly, Mama watched me touch myself. "How is this supposed to get my daughter to stop? I don't understand."

Dr. Mia got very close to my mother on the sofa and whispered to her. "Look at her, Mom. Watch how your daughter's body reacts to your eye's caress. Look what just your panties made her do. Now think about it, how do you think you were able to catch her all those times, huh? She has her own room. There's a lock on the bathroom door. And you're not always here. Tell me why she wouldn't do this behind locked doors. Tell me why she always chose to play with your panties in places she knew you could catch her."

My mom watched me masturbate and listened intently to the counselor. She answered, "She...she's...some kind of...addict?"

Mia smiled. "C'mon, Mom. You know that's not it. Tell us...