Tomek headed south. He knew he was coming to the very widest part of this otherwise narrow, long isle. The 'broad' part where both east and western sides seemed to round out well into the sea, in graceful curves.
The impenetrable jungles of the south were on the horizon. You could smell their scent, strong, heavy, fecund, floral,... and hot and humid. They were what gave the dominant notes to the scent of the entire island. They made this isle famous.
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The Good Luck, 'Pantie-Flower' Forest
As he approached the southern jungles, the land became more park-like. A savannah suddenly dotted with many trees. Too open to be true jungle, but definitely becoming far more lush than the prairie.
Here Tomek noticed a strange phenomenon. Women's panties. He saw quite a few of them, left strewn behind, under bushes and trees, amid flower groves. He'd picked a number of them up, to 'inspect' them, do the 'sniff test', — and while they were nice, he could tell they didn't belong to the moonlit lady of the north lake.
So he didn't take them. He didn't want another's scent to interfere while he was on the trail of his one true love.
But, months later, he would learn, why they were here. Panties are a sign of good luck on the isle. Of sweet dreams. And so couples and lovers of the local towns would head out to the parklands and nearby gardens, — a favorite place to go was here, where the jungle began. The custom on the isle was that, if you had a very good love experience together, a memorable one, then you should leave her panties behind. As a memorial. As a tribute to it. A thank-you offering to the gods. And so, no garden was so littered with these 'good luck charms' as here.
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The Naturals don't litter, normally. They clean up after themselves when camping. But this was the one exception. This was tolerated.
And so this came to be a memorial garden. To love. The 'Pantie-Flower forest'.
Look, right here, under this bush, in the moonlight, is Angela's violet-and-red-colored paisley panties, where she and Albert had a really good time just a couple weeks ago. And over there, a few hundred feet, is the pink and blue silk lace panties of Helena, where her Dan took her all that one Sunday night. And under the old oak, are the remnants of aunt Nanina's white and pink cotton panties, from a couple years ago, on her and Igor's 50ieth anniversary.
When you stumble across such a pair of panties, rumpled on the ground, in moonlight, it looks like a flower. A magical flower.
There were many such 'pantie-flowers', in every varied color and size and texture, 'blooming' in this forest garden.
A testament to the power of love.
And romance.
Their combined scents gave a sweet, subtle smell to the jungle parkland here. And this was part of what gave the Motherland its magical, mystery smell, that Tomek had first caught wind of far off at sea.
Love was in the air.
Magic was in the air.
This is love magic. A witch's forest.
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It wasn't just lovers who dropped their panties — 'got pantsed' here, either. Young maidens would come here and drop their panties as part of a 'coming of age' ritual. These panties would carry their love-scents and love-wishes, — and that, so legend says, will eventually bring them their one true love.
True, some teen boys would sometimes come and steal the panties. Others would just stand and masturbate over them, contributing their semen to the cause. And some old men took them home to sniff.
When families came by and little kids asked, ''what's that, mama...?'', parents would have to say: ''Those are pantie-flowers. It's where panties grow and bloom. It's where the good-luck, love-fairy lives...''
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