Panty Thief (Salvis smut)

Sal's Tighty Whities

It's been one whole year, one long year since casually knowing Sal and somehow the thoughts would just not leave his mind. Travis wished desperately he could go back to 8th grade, when everything was normal and Sal wasn’t infecting his mind like a parasite. When Sal arrived in Knockfell, he brought with him a curse. This curse of course was directed only at Travis. This curse that Sal had was making Travis turn into something he definitely was not; a homosexual.

Throughout that year, Travis mastered his ability to shut out all thoughts of sin in the form of premarital, homosexual sex. He even was starting to push back the less sinful thoughts like touching and kissing and such. If only Kenneth knew. In the back of his mind, Travis fantasized about telling his father his good work, how he was overcoming his homosexual thoughts and urges, but dad knowing that he was struggling with it in the first place would have him hung by his toes.

Travis had done so well, it didn’t even register in his mind when he was slipping. Though, it wasn’t slipping, at least in his mind. Where thinking about kissing and touching a boy was a sin, thinking about a boy's underwear was not. It couldn’t be. There was no sex or contact involved. These new ideas made Travis feel the same things he’d felt thinking about sex, but it was clear to him that this was not sex.

It all seemed to be working out fine until Travis felt more hormonal more often. There was an itch that needed to be scratched, and thankfully he didn’t have to think about hugging another boy while nude to scratch it. He could scratch the itch in the bathroom, watching other boys as they peed. He could scratch the itch when the football players passed by him, musky and filthy. His weapon of choice, Sal in his underwear in the changing room.

The first time he caught a glimpse of Sal, half nude in tighty whities, he felt like he’d just committed the act of sex itself. He felt so dirty getting a glimpse at Sal’s briefs. Travis soon learned to focus on those underwear, the nonsinful-nonsexual part, the intimate garment that covered the other boys private parts.

It was slowly becoming an obsession. At night Travis would stay up in bed with a painful boner he could not touch simply thinking all about Sal’s undies. How would they smell? Were they musky like the way the football players smelled after a passionate play? Did Sal change them often or did he wear them out like he had none other? He always stopped indulging those thoughts as soon as he began to think about Sal getting teased for his partial nudity, those dorky tighty whities, the thought stroked his erection like a hand would.

Soon, it was getting worse. Travis couldn’t even bear to look at underwear anymore without feeling hot. All the things that would originally gently scratch his erotic itch were getting overwhemling as well. The simple thought of urinating, the brief whiff of body odor and the literal concept of underwear were killing him slowly.

But that was all freshman year. This year was sophomore year and things were different. No longer did the thought of Sal donning his boxers do it for him, Travis was beginning to realize he needed more. He needed to get his hands on a pair of Sal’s undies.

Embarrassingly, Travis wrote out a plan for the heist. Nothing in depth, just a helpful outline. When gym class roles around, he’d ask to use the restroom and go grab a used pair from Sal’s locker. Foolproof, right?

Except, it wasn’t.

The moment Travis approached the locker, he remembered the thing he forgot to put in his plan; the mention of the lock.