Note: Thanks to Alex for beta reading this!

The figure was having a great deal of fun with its mind-controlling panties. Each pair had produced a different effect on the girls who’d donned them. The figure was greatly amused by the ease at which humans could be manipulated.

It was eager to have more fun.

Today, the figure held another subdued pair of panties. Girlish even. They were all white with princess-pink letters, written in flowing cursive, across the seat of the panties. A single word: Curious? An interrogative to inflame the mind of a special girl. A girl already curious by nature, but one who could become even more inquisitive.

The figure slipped into a trendy clothing store. It swept past the teenage girls and young women who browsed the shelves, looking for cute buys and adorable outfits. No one noticed the figure. It was nondescript. Unremarkable. Just another shopper browsing through the store. The figure drifted, almost casually, towards the display holding a variety of panties. They were all cute, with girlish designs or adorable phrases printed on their rear. Not unlike the pair of panties clutched in the figure’s hand. Many even had the lace-trimmed waistbands.

With a casual flick of the wrist, the panties were tossed onto the display. Finished, the figure slipped out of the store, unremarked.

Its quarry entered moments later.

Wendy was a fourteen-year-old, slender girl, with black hair falling around her round face. Her breasts were small, little A cups. They were perfect handfuls. She was just burgeoning into her sexuality. She had a natural curiosity about sex, not surprising giving the hormones raging through her youthful body. She was getting interested in boys. In cocks. She started to think about them all the time. Obviously, she’d seen pictures in health classes. She’d even seen a few passed around among her friends, the group giggling over shots of porn stars hard and erect.

She wanted to see a real one, but she was also more than a little scared. She wasn’t as bold as some of her classmates. Some of them had already lost their virginities. Some before they even started high school. They were young and precocious, enjoying the delights of their blossoming bodies. Wendy wanted to be like them.

She just had to find the right boy.

Thoughts of romance danced in her head as she drifted towards the panties section. Wendy liked buying panties. She had a collection of cute, adorable underwear. Nothing too daring, no thongs. No cheekies or bikini-cuts. She had a bathing suit that showed more flesh than most of her panties. Today, her eyes fell on that sweep of the princess-pink cursive word across the back of the panties. The pair lay front and center.

Curious?

She was. Her hands reached out, grasping the cotton/polyester blend. She picked it up, her fingers brushing the lace. Tingles raced up her arm and rippled across her skin, galvanizing her. Her nipples hardened and that naughty itch she got when she thought about boys and their hard cocks burst to life between her thighs. She groaned as she stared at that single word.

Curious?

She absolutely was.

Of course, the girl tried to pay for it. And the cashier even pretended to ring it up, but neither of them realized no price popped up on the screen. Wendy didn’t realize she was paying less than she should have for all the items she was taking home. It just felt natural. Right.

She was curious to try on her new panties.

Wendy Lovell

I was curious about what my new panties would feel like the morning after I bought them. I had to get to school, my ninth grade year well underway. I grabbed those panties along with the rest of my clothes I’d wear. I headed to the bathroom. My older sister had gone first, leaving a steamy room behind. I was so eager to don the panties, but I couldn’t go to school without showering. As curious as I was, I hopped in and quickly washed.

I don’t remember the last time I showered so fast. I must’ve set a Guinness World Record. I was back out in a flash, my hand snagging up the fluffy towel to dry my nubile body. My nipples were hard, the terrycloth fabric of the towel feeling wicked against them. The molten itch in my pussy, tingling in me since I bought the panties, intensified.

I just had to try them on.

I snagged the panties and stepped into them before I was even fully dry. I was damp. By the time I reached downstairs, I’d be dry. I stepped into them, the lace rubbing into my palms. That wonderful tingles raced up them. I whimpered as I pulled them higher and higher up my legs, my little titties jiggling as I shuddered.

What made these panties feel amazing? I wanted to know. They were just so amazing. I didn’t even know who made them. They didn’t have a label on them. I tried to Google them. I wanted to buy the entire set. I could only imagine what other fun phrases they would have on them.

My curiosity itched at my brain. I pulled my panties fully up my legs and a little to adjust them properly. The stretchy material cupped my rump, the lace looking so cute as it encircled my waist. I couldn’t help but cock a few poses, staring at my blurry reflection in the mirror.

I dressed in the rest of my clothing, bra, skirt, pink tights, and a fluffy cashmere sweater. My black hair bounced around my head as I headed downstairs.

I reached the bottom and gasped as I saw my sister. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans. I swear she had to pour herself into those skinny jeans to don them. Nothing else made sense. My eyes found her rear, seeing her perky ass cupped by the denim. The fabric gripped her rump tighter than the panties clung to my rear.

I licked my lips. I wondered what sort of panties my sister was wearing. It had to be a thong. I couldn’t see any lines at all. As she bent over, her shirt rode up just enough for me to see the whale tail.

What would she look like in only a thong? I so wanted to know.

My sister, Clarissa, glanced at me as she straightened. She was seventeen, a senior. “Are you staring at my ass, Wendy?”

“Just ... Your jeans look good on you.”

She smiled.” Maybe you’ll wear a pair like this, huh? Start teasing the boys?”

I shrugged.

Mom swept into the room dressed for her office job. She wore a gray pencil skirt and a conservative blouse that was ruffled in the front. As she walked by, I glanced at her rear. What sort of panties did she have on under there? What kind of panties did mom wear to work? I wanted to run over, lift up her skirt, and find out.

It itched my brain. My fingertips.

My sister waved her hand in front of my face. “Now you’re checking out Mom’s ass?”

My cheeks burned. “No, I’m not,” I quickly said. “You need to get your eyes checked.”

“Whatev, weirdo,” my sister said, rolling her brown eyes.

I wasn’t weird. What was wrong about wondering what sort of panties another girl was wearing? Girls were always checking out each other’s clothes. So what was the big deal?

My fingers itched to yank down my sister’s jeans and our mom’s skirt. What were their panties like? Ooh, I just wanted to know. It made my pussy so wet wondering. Did Mom have sexy panties on underneath? Or did she have granny panties? The questions tumbled through my head all throughout breakfast.

Finished, I headed out with my sister. We had to get to our high school. My sister gave me a ride, though I was usually on my own for getting home. She had better things to do than drive around “the annoying, little brat” as she called me to her friends.

She had the gangsta rap blaring on the drive to school, bobbing along and singing to the absolute vile lyrics. I cannot believe the things the rappers said. What they thought about women. God, did guys really think these things?

They were all such perverts.

We arrived at our high school, and my sister marched off to join her friends. They were all laughing and giggling. They were all older girls, and I bet they all had sexy panties. Wondering made me so wet. I itched to find out.

I shuddered, wiggling my hips back and forth.

It was so exciting, just thinking about what people were wearing. Were they wearing thongs? Cheekies? French cut? Bikini? Were their panties red or blue or yellow or white or black or pink or gray or cream? Were they multicolored? Did they have lace? Bows? Were they striped? Polka-dotted? Did they have cute designs on them? Or phrases?

I was so curious.

Every girl I saw, I stared at her crotch or her ass, just wondering. Did the uptight student president have a pair of schoolgirl-white panties on? Did the punk girl have a pair of panties that were crotchless? What about the school’s star volleyball player? What sort of panties did she wear? Something comfortable? Something naughty? Then there were my teachers. Mrs. Howards had pantyhose. What sort of panties did she have on beneath her nylons? Did they grip her butt-cheeks and mold to her pussy?

It was all just so exciting.

It made me so wet. I couldn’t help but slip into the girls’ bathroom twice to masturbate my naughty pussy. The first time was between lessons, my fingers flying over my slit, rubbing my vulva and labia. I was thinking about all the different possible panties. I came in a flash.

A ripple of orgasmic delight.

My second time was during lunch. I had more time. I was on my phone, looking at upskirt shots of girls, seeing all the different sort of panties that were hidden beneath skirts. I rubbed myself. As I did, I glanced down at the gap in the stall’s divider. Once, when I had my fingers rubbing feverishly up and down my virgin twat, I saw a girl’s panties bunched around her ankles. They were pink.

I came then and there.

I was just so curious.

In the afternoon, other ideas started popping in my head. Not just what sort of panties were they wearing, but I was curious about how they groomed themselves. I bet my sister was completely shaved. Unless she had a landing strip or a triangle of black curls. I looked at other girls, wondering if they had thick bushes, if they trimmed themselves, or if they shaved themselves bare.

What about my teachers? Ms. Kelly was young, straight out of teaching school. I bet she was hip enough to have a shaved pussy. Maybe even a piercing. Oh, wouldn’t that be naughty to see?

What did the other girls’ pussy lips look like? I had a tight slit, my clit only peeking out when I was really horny. I had been in the locker room. I’d seen girls with pink petals that spilled out of their vulva, flowers blooming bright. Every girl I looked at, I just wanted to pull down their skirt, see their panties, then take them off.

Curiosity burned across my thoughts.

I hardly even noticed the boys. Why would I? Who cared what dumb things they had in their boxers. Cocks? Those just made me feel disgusted. Pussy was what I was curious to see. To compare to my own. I licked my lips, just aching to see them all.

To my surprise, my sister drove me home that day. I spent the entire ride just thinking about her pussy. Did she have a tight slit like me? I knew she was fucking her boyfriend, so maybe she was more open, her pussy lips thicker. Dave was older, nineteen and in college. It was so naughty. I knew mom had no idea. She wouldn’t approve.

How did my mom groom her pussy? Did she have a hairy bush? She had black hair like Clarissa and me, but was it a forest down there? I kept my pussy nice and trimmed, although my hairs were still pretty sparse.

“Are you staring at my crotch now?” my sister asked, an amused tone in her voice as she drove us home, the Gangster Rap blaring.

“No,” I said, blushing. “I was just wondering...”

“Wondering what?” she asked as she turned into our driveway.

“Nothing.”

“You’re getting stranger and stranger every day, Wendy.”

The moment we got home, Clarissa headed upstairs. I drifted to the kitchen to have an afternoon snack, a single serving of yogurt. I sat down at the kitchen bar, eating the strawberry banana delight and thinking about panties. What sort of panties did Scarlett Johansson wear? Or Angelina Jolie. How about Gal Gadot. She played Wonder Woman. What sort of panties did Wonder Woman wear? Did Wonder Woman shave?

I heard my sister coming down the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted her wearing a sports bra that cupped her round breasts and her yoga pants. I shuddered. Those gray, stretchy pants hugged her butt-cheeks like a second skin. I didn’t see her whale tail thong peeking out the back. Was she even wearing panties?

I had to find out.

I grabbed my phone, pretending to stare at it so my sister wouldn’t think it was weird I was hanging around. I wanted to know if she was wearing panties. What her pussy looked like. Tasted like. There were so many things I was curious about. If she wasn’t such a bitch, I was sure she would help me find out. I bet mom would.

If she were home, I’d walk up to her and ask, “Mom, can I lift up your skirt, pull down your panties, and look at your pussy? Maybe give it a lick just to see what you taste like?”

I bet she would say, “Of course you can, Wendy. I’m always glad to help you out, honey.”

Why couldn’t my sister be more like Mom?

I drifted into the living room as Clarissa spread out her yoga mat. She bent over to do it, and boy did that tight material of her stretchy pants cling to her ass. The material dipped into her butt-cheeks, outlining those two perfect hemispheres. My mouth went dry as my gaze dropped lower. I could see the fabric molding over her pussy. Her cameltoe. She had to be shaved. There was no way I could see all the details of her plump vulva and her tight slit if she wasn’t. Definitely no panties either.

I licked my lips then gasped as I tripped over the foot of the stand lamp.

My sister whirled around. “What are you doing?”

“Just browsing Instagram,” I said, pretending to swipe my screen.

“Don’t do it while walking. Mom will blame me if you break something.”

That was because Mom liked me better. I didn’t say that out loud, though.

“What are you doing anyway?” she asked as I reached the couch and plopped down. “I’m doing my yoga out here.”

“Just browsing Instagram. Geez, you won’t even notice I’m here.”

“Why do always have to be such an annoying, little brat?” she muttered.

I glared at her. If she didn’t have such a cute ass and a yummy-looking pussy, I would walk out of the room in a huff.

Her pussy did look so succulent cupped by that tight fabric. What would it be like to lick her pussy? My sister might be a bitch, but she was gorgeous. I guess her tits weren’t bad, but I wasn’t into girls. Why would I care about my sister’s boobs?

It was hard to pretend to look at my phone when she started her routine. Luckily for me, she faced away. It was so hard not to finger my twat when she was doing dog pose, her ass pointed right at me, the fabric of her yoga pants molding to her pussy lips.

I forgot to blink.

My eyes started burning as I drank in the sight. It was as close to seeing what she looked like naked as I could get. I just wanted to dart off the couch and yanked down her yoga pants. I would be so naughty. But she would kill me.

God, she was such a bitch.

When she straightened from that pose, I quickly looked down at my phone’s blank screen. She threw a look over her shoulder, her face tightened. Then she went into a one-legged standing pose. She had great balance, but it wasn’t really showing me the good stuff. I mean, I could stare at her rump, but the cloth just wasn’t stretched as tight over her ass as the moment before.

Still, my pussy was soaking my new panties. It was so hard not to slide my hand up beneath them. I was totally going to masturbate when she finished. I would go up to my bedroom, rub my pussy, and think about her cunt. Were her pussy folds as pink as mind? Did she taste like mine? I had a sweet tasting cunt, but that didn’t seem to fit Clarissa. I bet she was spicy. Maybe tangy. I shuddered from thinking about it.

My nipples ached in my bra. She shifted poses as I pretended to stare at my phone. I casually rubbed my arms against the tips of my breasts. I massaged my nipples while I pressed my thighs tight together. Tingles shot down to my pussy, my clit throbbing. I manipulated my clit by working my thighs together, fighting little whimpers.

My sister went into a boring sitting pose next. I sighed, wishing she would do something like that dog pose again.

“You’re making this really difficult,” Clarissa muttered. “I can feel your eyes on me. What has gotten into you?”

“What?” I asked. “I’m just relaxing.”

“In the living room? Instead of your bedroom? You’re never around when I’m doing my yoga.”

I shrugged.

She stared at me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you try anything when Dave shows up...”

“Dave’s coming over?” I shuddered. “Does Mom know you’re having a boy come over.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m seventeen.”

“But, still, you know her rules.”

“Are you going to tell?” She planted her hands on her hips as she faced me. I shuddered, I could see the yoga pants molding to her vulva. Her slit was outlined by that wonderful cloth.

“I won’t tell,” I said. An idea clicked in my mind. If Dave was coming over, which meant they were going to fuck. Which meant she was going to have to get naked. She would have to show off her pussy for him to slide into her.

“You better not, or you can walk to school, Wendy.”

I nodded my head.

“I’m going to take a shower. If Dave shows up, don’t be weird around him.”

“I’ll be good.”

Clarissa whirled around and headed upstairs. My heart clenched. I couldn’t really be doing this, right? But I had to see her pussy. It itched at my brain. There were so many girls I had to see, but Clarissa’s cunt was at the top of my list. I wanted to rub my face into her twat. I wanted to smell her. Feel her. Taste her. I needed to know everything about her pussy. Even her butt. Her cute rump was also covered by her panties. I squirmed on the couch, listening.

The shower hissed on.

It was like the crack of a starter pistol at a race. I was off.

I darted towards the stairs, running up them. My feet drummed on the carpeted steps, my small breasts jiggling in my bra. My clit throbbed, rubbing against the fabric of my panties. I was soaking through them.

I reached the second floor and glanced at the closed bathroom door. The shower was loud. She wouldn’t hear anything. My heart racing, I ripped off my blouse. I tossed it into my open bedroom, standing just outside the doorway. The bathroom door was right behind me. My bra came off next, exposing my nipples.

I tweaked one, shuddering.

I ripped off my skirt and tights, and then my panties. I didn’t want to part with them, but they’d just be in the way for what was going to happen next.

Naked, I closed my door to hide the evidence. Then I crept down to her bedroom. It was right next to mine. The farthest from the master bedroom where our mom slept. I crept into Clarissa’s room, heading for her closet. She wouldn’t need anything in here. It had louvered slats, letting you see out, but not in. I felt so naughty as I slid open the door and then pressed inside. I felt her clothes rub against my back. I shuddered in there, alone in the dark, waiting for Dave to show up.

For me to see my big sister’s pussy.

I licked my lips in anticipation. I rubbed my thighs, resisting the urge to frig my pussy. I wanted to wait. I savored that horny, molten passion between my thighs. I trembled, shuddering. The shower turned off.

My pussy clenched.

The doorbell rang.

“This is it,” I whispered.

The bathroom door flung open. I heard my sister moving. She headed downstairs. The front door opened. I heard talking, her voice, and his. The front door close, and then the footsteps headed back to the stairs. I heard her giggle. A squeal of girlish excitement. Then he laughed.

“Gonna tear that ass up,” I heard him say followed by a smack.

They were almost here. I could hear them coming closer and closer. I heard the wet sounds of smacking lips. The door rattled. Clarissa must be pressed right against it. My pussy clenched. I was so eager for it. I just had to see her. My sister’s pussy ... I needed to know what it looked like. Otherwise, I would go insane.

I shoved my hand between my thighs and rubbed at my fourteen-year-old, virgin twat. Pleasure rippled through me. I whimpered, the passion needing to escape me. I couldn’t hold it in. It was too much.

The door opened.

Clarissa backed in, wearing her pink bathrobe. It was open. Dave, a tall guy with brown hair and the tattoo of a dragon wrapped around his right arm, groped my sister’s tit. He squeezed her round breast, his thumb rubbing over her pink nipple. I shuddered, wanting to see the good part.

Her hands ripped at the t-shirt he wore. She pulled it off of him, forcing him to release her breast and break the kiss. She threw his shirt to the ground while he kicked her door shut.

BANG!

“Goddamn, you are one sexy thing.”

My older sister giggled, her pink robe falling off her body. I smiled as she revealed the perky, peachy curve of her rump to me. I could see the cleft. I shuddered, licking my lips. One of my curiosities were satisfied, but not the main one.

I whimpered, rubbing my feverish flesh, my silky bush brushing my fingers. I pressed against louvered slats, peering out at my sister. My heart thundered in my chest. My fingers, coated in my juices, slid up and down my virginal folds. I brushed my clit. My hymen.

“I’m going to tear that cunt up,” he growled.

My sister purred in delight as she fell to her knees. She unbuckled his jeans and yanked them down. His boxers followed, exposing his boring, hard cock. I groaned, wanting to get to the good parts. I couldn’t see her pussy. I could see the side of her body, but her thigh blocked my view of her twat. I didn’t even get a good glimpse if she was shaved or not. I wanted to groan in frustration as she sucked on his dick.

Cocks were ugly. Why did she want to suck on one? Wouldn’t she rather suck on a nipple or a clit?

I licked my lips. I’d love to suck on her nipple. I guess boobs were nice. I stared at hers, watching the side-profile of her breasts jiggle as she worked her mouth up and down his cock. Her hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing herself while she fisted his dick with the other. She touched herself the same way I did. I shuddered and rubbed faster, my pubic hair teasing me.

I was almost hypnotized by her swinging breasts. If it wasn’t for them, I would go insane from my frustration. As it was, it took all my self-control not to open the door and shout at my sister to show off her cunt.

My juices flowed, my fingers growing so sticky.

“Damn, I need to get into that pussy,” Dave growled.

“Finally,” I hissed underneath my breath.

My sister’s mouth popped off his cock with a wet plop. She stared up at him, drool dribbling down her chin. Giving a blowjob was so messy. I would never do that. Now getting pussy juices all over my lips and mouth ... I bet that was amazing.

I was so curious to find out.

My sister rose, her lithe thighs flexing. She turned, letting me get a perfect view of her ass for a moment. I just wanted to grab it. Knead it. I whimpered, frigging my clit. My pubic hair brushed my knuckles. This was perfect. Just what I needed. She spun around, letting me see the front now.

She was utterly shaved. Her pussy was that tight slit I’d seen through her yoga pants. Now there was nothing in the way of my curiosity. She was flashed. Juices beaded on her swollen vulva. A hint of her pink inner lips blossomed out from her slit.

She threw herself on her bed, lying on her back. She shifted around, stretching out lengthwise. The foot of her bed pointing right at the closet. I had a perfect view of her pussy lips parting as she spread her thighs wide. The pink depths were revealed to me.