It could be the hot girl next door Lucy. It could be my Aunt Sally. It could even be my very own Mother. Or, you guessed it, my Sister Sarah. I... was sick and twisted, I know, but every time I laid eyes on their soft, smooth and delicate knickers, I was unable to stop myself. I would fondle them, rub them against my face, smell their wonderful scent, and even masturbate with them. I was always ashamed of myself afterwards and I’d promise never to do it again. But I would, and I did. . It really helped me in my travels in time and acted like a GPS system at those times when I was virtually flying by the seat of my pants and tried my best to exude confidence to those around me like this was all second nature to me.I might have been a little more circumspect with regard to matter of the heart if he had offered some sage advice in that area, but he tended to avoid that subject and I suspected he was just as confused as the rest of male members of the family in the understanding. More

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