The door to the women's locker room is slightly ajar, the faint sounds of sneakers squeaking and volleyballs thudding against the floor in the gym next door echoing faintly through the hall. My heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I slip inside, the musky, humid scent of sweat and perfume clinging to the air. Lockers are scattered, open and shut, and it doesn’t take long to find what I’m after.

A pile of clothes lies carelessly on the bench, tossed aside in a rush before practice. My mouth waters. There they are—booty shorts, panties, bras—all tangled together, still damp from the girls’ bodies. The sight alone makes my cock stir, throbbing against the rough denim of my jeans.

I reach for the first pair. Black spandex, sweat-soaked and clinging to itself like it’s holding the imprint of her body. I bring it to my face, inhaling deeply. Fuck. The smell is overpowering, ripe with the scent of sweat and a unique body odor.

I pick up a discarded pair of panties and bury my nose deeper into the crotch, the faint musk of pussy filling my nostrils.

I can’t resist licking. My tongue slides over the fabric, tasting the salt, the hint of her body left behind. I close my eyes, imagining her—one of the volleyball girls, tall, toned, her thighs flexing as she moves, unaware that some sick bastard is here, rubbing her sweaty shorts against his face, licking every inch. The thought sends a jolt of arousal straight to my groin.

I grab more—pair after pair. Panties, shorts, sports bras. Some of them still feel sticky, the faintest trace of something wet clinging to the fabric. I run my fingers through them, pressing the wet patches against my face, my lips, sucking on them like I’m tasting every girl who’s worn them. I imagine them now, stretching, jumping, their asses bouncing in front of me, unaware that I’m in here, devouring their most intimate pieces of clothing.

My cock strains painfully against my jeans. I yank down my zipper, desperate to free myself. The moment my hand wraps around my throbbing length, I let out a quiet groan, barely controlling the sound as I wrap the damp panties around my shaft. The soft fabric feels like heaven against my skin as I start to stroke, slow at first, savoring the sensation.

I press another pair of panties to my face, breathing in deep, licking them, tasting the residue of a girl’s body, the faint hint of her juices still lingering. Fuck. I can’t get enough. My hand moves faster, stroking harder, wrapping more panties around my shaft, letting the soft, damp fabric glide over me. The friction is perfect, just the right amount of slickness and warmth as I stroke myself in them, grunting under my breath.

Fuck, yes. I can almost see them—those toned, athletic bodies, dripping with sweat, bending over right in front of me, completely oblivious. I imagine them looking back at me, their cheeks flushed, eyes wide as they catch me in the act, their used panties wrapped around my cock, my lips sucking on their sweat-stained clothes.

My hips buck forward, the tension building rapidly in my core. I’m panting now, licking the fabric, tasting the sweat, the salt, imagining their voices, their gasps if they ever found out what I was doing. My hand moves faster, jerking myself off, the thought of their bodies filling my mind.

And then it hits me—a hot, pulsing release that sends shockwaves through me. I grunt, biting down on my lip to muffle the sound as my cum spills into the panties, soaking them, mixing with the dampness already there. My body trembles with the aftershocks, my cock twitching as I thrust into the mess, spreading it across the clothing wrapped tight around me.

The thought of them finding their panties like this, soaked with their sweat and now with my cum, makes me groan again, a twisted satisfaction settling in as I toss the panties back onto the bench, leaving my mark behind.

I take one last deep breath, savoring the smell before slipping out of the locker room, heart still pounding with the thrill.