My brothers John, Harry, James, Robert, and I (Jean) lived with our mother (Ailsa) in North Scotland during the 1950s and early 1960s. We had a good and relatively happy upbringing, albeit a strict one. Mum was austere and did not tolerate misbehaviour; her hairbrush or plimsoll regularly lit up my bottom for my misdeeds. By contrast, I had a charmed life at school until I reached eighteen and moved into the all-girl class taught by Miss Mabel Marshall. She was a tyrant who maintained discipline with the heavy tawse. No one in her class was spared, but she particularly disliked me. As a result, my rear end was acquainted with her venomous belt far more often than those of other girls.

My relationship with Mum changed entirely once she saw the damage being done to my bum by Miss Marshall’s punishments, for it brought back bad memories of her own schooldays and of similar abuse by a sadistic teacher. From then on, she became a tolerant, sympathetic, caring, and supportive mother, and we bonded as never before. Indeed, we often shared a bed. Cuddled under the duvet became our safe space, where we could discuss all things female, including intimate matters, and solve many a teenage problem. 

The strict ethos of the time was that boys and girls had to be kept apart and raised and educated separately. However, an ongoing anomaly to this edict was that the eldest daughters were expected to help their mother look after younger siblings. For example, I fed, washed and dressed my little brothers, James and Robert, until they were around six. One thing that sticks in my memory from those times was how, even at that young age, they displayed like peacocks when their boy bits were on show.

This irregularity in family rules never occurred the other way around: growing boys were always kept far away when girls were bathing or dressing. To be fair, this did not bother them, for young boys had far more exciting things to do than think about icky girls. However, once puberty kicked in, those attitudes changed completely. Trying to discover a girl’s hidden secrets became an obsession; peering down a girl’s blouse, flipping her skirt, or even trying to cop a feel of her feminine jewels became a significant part of their repartee. Of course, seeing a partly dressed girl or, better still, one in the buff was the ultimate achievement. My teenage brothers John and Harry had done all these things to me and finally achieved the dream when ‘by accident’ they caught me getting out of the bath.

Sometime after this unnerving event, I discovered that John and Harry were taking pairs of my knickers from the laundry basket and masturbating with them. At first, I wanted to cause a major fuss, but after a pillow talk with Mum, I decided to let them get on with it. Mum explained that for umpteen generations, sisters in our family, her included, have accepted this intrusive use of their underwear to help and enable their brothers to satiate their frustrations and carnal urges within the safety of home. I, therefore, followed the family tradition.  

When Mum and I slept together, she taught me about the many physical and emotional joys available from my lady bits. However, she was solely my teacher. Although I wanted to, she never allowed me to practice the pleasurable arts on her.

“I am giving you the basic skills. To develop them, you must get up close and personal with an eager girl your age.”

“Oh, did you learn with a girlfriend?”

“I certainly did, and I am so grateful to her. When Jane and I got together, we were naïve but keen and willing to learn the good and bad of a physical and emotional relationship. We drove each other to Seventh Heaven while honing the sensual moves my Mum taught me and even worked out many new ones of our own. In fact, during my pillow talks with Mum, she occasionally blushed when I told her about what Jane and I were doing together.

“But I have no close friend like that.”

“What about Mary? You already have a shared experience with her."

The backdrop to this suggestion was that Mary, a classmate, had recently fallen afoul of Miss Marshall because of me. Miss Marshall ordered me to go to her office at the end of a particularly fraught day. Mary involuntarily gasped in horror, for she knew, as did everyone else, that this meant I was about to get the thrashing of all thrashings. Miss Marshall took exception to Mary's loud reaction and ordered her to accompany me. The outcome of our visit to Miss Marshall’s lair was horrific. Sweet and innocent Mary, who had only before been belted on her hands, got ten agonizing strikes of the heavy tawse on her skimpy panties. Then she had to watch as I received ten fearsome hits on the bare with a senior cane. While I was in terrible shape afterwards, poor Mary was devastated by the experience and inconsolable.

“Oh, I do not think Mary will want to have anything to do with me. She must hate me for getting such a severe thrashing.”

“True, she will be conflicted. But she can get over it with your reassurance and support. Only you can do that. So, just talk to her.”

I was not too hopeful, but as usual, Mum was correct. When Mary and I finally met, she was glad to see me and wanted to chat. As we discussed our recent traumas, I was surprised we had no edginess or tension. Indeed, we were remarkably comfortable and at ease with each other. That said, I was still taken aback when Mary kissed me on the lips and said, “Thank you so much for caring and being my friend.”

Immediately captivated by the fantastic sensations flowing through our lips, I cast any minor doubts aside, and we settled into a breath-taking snog. That simple but enthralling act set Mary and me on the path to a close and exhilarating friendship. I still find it hard to believe this came about due to the agonies she and I suffered at Miss Marshall’s hands.

Mary and I knew to keep our developing companionship a secret, especially from Miss Marshall, fellow pupils, and nosy neighbours. So, we were discrete, only getting together for short spells in well-hidden locations after school. But Mum cottoned on to us when Mary came to ours for dinner: she spotted fresh grass stains on our skirts.

Nothing was said until Mary left, but I knew something was up when Mum insisted we share her bed that night. As we looked at each other across the pillow, she came straight out with it: "Are you and Mary an item?"

“No, not yet. We are friends, still getting to know each other.”

“Why are you wasting time? I can see you already have the hots for each other. You need to seize the moment and learn and share the special joys of the female body."

“The places we meet are supposedly safe, but it is impossible to fully let go because there is always the chance of being spotted.”

"If that is all stopping you, I can fix that."

“What have you in mind?”

“How about inviting Mary over on Saturday? The boys will be away all day at football, and I can be unexpectedly called away, leaving you two together for the day.”

A sly grin spread over Mum’s face as she said this. I presumed she was recalling the times she and Jane first explored and shared the pleasures of the female body.

"Oh, Mum, thank you ever so much."

I did not tell Mary of the plan for Saturday. I wanted it to be a surprise, and she was more than happy to come over to help me with household chores because we could be together. She arrived at the house just after my brothers left for the day. She chatted with Mum as we had a coffee but then looked bemused when Mum said, "I hope you do not mind; I have business to deal with today. Make yourself at home, Mary, and have a good time."

Mum grinned knowingly as she waved us goodbye. Mary was startled when I then took her in my arms and kissed her.

"Surprise, we have the house to ourselves for the day. I wonder what we can do together."

Mary may have been taken unawares, but she was no slouch. Straightaway, she unbuttoned my blouse and lifted it out of the way. Then, she slipped her hands around my back, unhooked my bra and pulled it away, freeing my boobies, which she now cupped in her hands. I quickly reciprocated, and we were soon cooing with delight as we gently massaged each other’s tits and began suckling the nipples.

I undid the back fastening of Mary’s skirt and let it drop to the floor. She then sighed as my lips progressively kissed their way down her abdomen until they reached her knickers. She inhaled as I hooked my thumbs around their waistband and began pulling them down. As her fuzzy mound uncovered, I became giddy as the first hints of Mary’s unique fragrances wafted up my nostrils. Next, as my nose slid under her mound and closed in on her pussy lips, their potent olfactory delights engulfed it and drew me into a sensual daze.

Mary was disappointed when I stood up, folded back the duvet, and got her to sit on the bed. But her spirits quickly lifted when I removed her shoes, socks, and panties. Then she gasped and quivered with delight when I leaned in and planted a kiss on her enticing lower lips. Disappointment reappeared on Mary’s face as I then pushed her back into the bed and pulled the duvet over her. But her face lit up again, and her eyes were out on stalks as she watched me strip to the buff and slip into bed beside her.

Straightaway, the temperature soared as lust took over, and we began making out in a hands-everywhere frenzy. Suffice it to say, we discovered and stimulated each other’s many erotic spots and took each other to seventh heaven again and again over the day. I will never forget the broad grin on Mum’s face when she came home late in the afternoon to find Mary and I still giving it our all between the sheets.

Mum opened the windows to allow the unique aromas of our day’s exertions to disperse. Before leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind her, she told us dinner would be ready in an hour. We did not relent until we orgasmed once more. Then, we cuddled up and slept for a while. Afterwards, we showered, dressed, and sheepishly headed to the kitchen.

Mum’s first words were, “You seem to have had a busy day, girls.”

“Yes, we have really got to know each other.”

Mum was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Good, there is nothing quite like getting close and personal with your best friend.”

We chatted about inconsequential things as we shared a meal with Mum. Only as Mary and I shared a goodbye kiss did I realize that, in our befuddled state, we had dressed in each other’s clothes. Mum must have noticed but chose to say nothing. So, rather than cause any fuss, we just left things that way. I will admit I slept in Mary's bra and panties that night just to feel she was still close as I dreamed about our wild day together. I was pleased to later find out that Mary did the same.

A few days later, Mum asked, “Have you returned Mary’s clothes.”

I told her, “I have not. Instead, she and I have agreed to keep them as a memento, to mix and match them with our own.”

“That is a good idea. You will always have a reminder of the first special day together.”

Mum was correct. In fact, keeping some of each other’s lingerie became a ritual in the enchanting Saturdays that followed. Eventually, some pieces of underwear found their way back to the original owner. So, I felt obliged to tell Mary what my brothers were doing with my knickers and presumably those of hers in my care.

“Was she angry about that?"

“Not really, because she guessed her brother Alex was already doing the same with hers.”

This realization set off wicked questions in my head. Would Mary react to male scents as excitedly as I did? Would Alex’s scents affect me like those of my brothers? So, Mary and I agreed on a plan for the following Saturday. We collected pairs of panties that our brothers had recently sullied from our respective laundry baskets and placed them under the pillows of my bed.

Mary and I stripped down to our knickers, got into bed, and made out for a while. Then we took our undies off and sniffed them. As to be expected, both pairs gave off strong fragrances. There was little difference between those of Mary and me, and while beguiling, they had no physiological effects on us.

As Mary appreciated her own scents, I took the panties Alex had used and clamped them to my nose. His odours were different from my brothers but were still potent and arousing. Indeed, I was shocked by the primal reactions they evoked: my whole body tingled, and my fud quivered with anticipation. When Mary put those knickers to her nose, she immediately recognized the prominent masculine fragrances amongst her own. She responded to them in the same excited manner as I did. Moreover, we reacted in precisely the same way when we then inhaled John’s erotic essences from my panties.

Suffice it to say that under the beguiling spell of those male scents, Mary and I then frigged our beavers to the most amazing climaxes with the knickers used by our brothers. After a short recovery spell, we exchanged these panties,  inhaled their scents, and took ourselves to a further orgasm. Now, in a sensual frenzy, we repeated these swapovers many times throughout the day. I cannot be sure just how many orgasms we enjoyed, but it was two exhausted but incredibly satisfied girls that Mum, on her return, found slumbering in my bed. She smiled happily as she left the room and let us return to the sleep of the many afters.

Two bleary-eyed girls shared supper with Mum that evening. Afterwards, I walked Mary home and left her with a goodbye kiss. We both smiled as we parted, for we had agreed on a special surprise for our brothers. Once home, we made big plays by leaving several items in our laundry baskets. Alex and John fell for our ploy, hook, line and sinker. The knickers we fapped off with all day now reeked of our aromas and, almost in a flash, disappeared from the baskets. Judging by the excessive staining and their overstretched and frayed appearance when they finally reappeared in the laundry, the boys must have been driven wild by the odorous undies and put them to excessive use. Those panties were never worn again. Instead, they were carefully washed and cleaned and safely stored at the back of our knicker drawers as a mark of respect for the excellent service they provided for girls and boys alike. Many other pairs of panties would be used as an aid to pleasure, but none endured anywhere near as much abuse as those sacred ones.

Over the weeks and months, Mary and I practised and perfected the physical and sensual skills to take each other to the ultimate girl-on-girl pleasure. Moreover, we learnt to deal with some of a relationship's emotional ups and downs. Like all friends, we occasionally fell out, often for the stupidest of reasons, and would stop speaking to each other. Once we realized how ridiculous we were and how much we missed each other, we had to figure out how to get back together again. More challenging than it seems. However, lust for each other usually provided a way. Once you are naked in bed with the one you love, any anger with them quickly disappears when you begin playing together. Pillow talk became our way of choice for talking through our difficulties. After all, once you have settled the problem, how better to seal the deal than by getting physically close and very personal with each other.

Mary and I became highly aroused every time we handled panties infused with the carnal aromas of Alex, John, or Harry. So, I was taken by surprise during one of our pillow talks when Mary said she slightly preferred the scents of Alex to those of my brothers. I had not given this any thought until she mentioned it. Still, on reflection, I quickly recognized that I was, in fact, much hornier when engulfed by the carnal fragrances of John or Harry rather than those of Alex. But why should this be? I would have expected to be drawn more to an unrelated male or at least equally to all. Was this why sisters in my family were so accommodating of their brothers? What did it mean for Mary, who was now turning a blind eye to Alex’s use of her panties, although there was no known history of this in her family? I was unable to answer any of these questions. But unbeknownst to me, events on the horizon would clarify things.

With Mum’s approval, Mary and I shared my bed on Saturdays when my brothers were away playing or watching football. The tacit understanding was that we would abstain from these intimate activities on Saturdays when the lads were at home or nearby. On those days, I reverted to being the good, dutiful daughter and helped Mum catch up with many chores around the house. Naturally, no matter how much I busied myself on those Saturdays, being without Mary was very frustrating. So, during the day, my mind often wandered to the joys Mary and I could be sharing. These dreams frequently felt so real that I...