Sad to say, the next few years weren’t much of anything to my sissydom. I still had the panties, but they went to the wayside, somewhat, as the internet started to seriously come into its own. As my side-scroll says, I’m in my mid-30’s, which means I was a teenager during the Wild West of the internet. Nobody over the age of 20 knew what the internet was capable of, which meant surfin’ the world wide webs with little to no parental supervision, and no safe mode for the search engines. While it still had just about the same amount of porn as it does now, it was even less restricted, strange as it may seem. As far as being a teenage boy during the time period went (e.g. masturbating more than a viagra’ed up, methed-out spidermonkey), the internet was the goddamn bee’s knees.
All of this is to say that, while I was still enamored with panties, I found myself spending more time looking at them, rather than wearing them. Of course, the Wild West internet also introduced me to ideas and fetishes beyond what I had known until that point: Bondage, Femme Domme, Submission, Humiliation, and the ultimate, Forced Femme.
I was awash a sea of sexual imagery during the budding of my sexuality, which, at the time, was enough. I didn’t feel the need to sate my strange appetites in real life, until one day when I was around 16. I was hanging out late one Friday night (or early Saturday morning) with some friends. It was early spring, so we were taking the opportunity the sit on the porch and play cards. We were out there for a while when my friend’s sister came out to wait for a ride to her friend’s house. She was a couple years younger than us, cute, petit, blonde, and sassily bohemian (strange as it may sound). She expertly shot the shit with us until her ride came along some 25 minutes later.
We kept playing until I needed to hit the bathroom and told them to deal me out. I step inside my friend’s house and went to the bathroom. I was on my way back to the porch when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.
I felt something inside me churn.
While walking back to my friends, I noticed that the sister had left the door to her bedroom open. Sitting on the ground next to her closet door was a pair of her panties—her white, cotton bikini-cut panties. Much like the affair with my old friend’s step-sister’s panties, I had deep-seated need to touch them, to feel how they felt as I wore them.
I felt the blood drain from my head as I walked towards them, the small, white panties. I remember my hand trembled as I picked them up, rubbing my thumbs across the crotch and the back. I don’t know how fast I became engorged, but I do know that it was the hardest erection I had had in quite a long time.
Before I knew it, my shorts were on the ground, and I was stepping into the panties. Off in a distant corner of my mind, I felt a crushing fear of my friend walking in and catching me wearing his sister’s panties. This fear was real enough for me to perk up an ear, but by then my deep, dark need was center-stage—there was no stopping me. I pulled the panties up my legs, feeling the cotton rub against my leg hairs, and fitting tightly against my ass and crotch. I remember how tightly the leg band fit around my thighs…I was briefly afraid that they would cut-off my circulation.
These panties were much smaller than my pair at home…or maybe I had grown that much in the intervening years. Whatever the case, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to tuck myself into them. I also knew that I had a very limited timeframe to work with, so I did the only thing my panty-addled brain would allow me: I pull my cock out through the leg band, and began pumping with abandon.
There was something about seeing how flat the panties sat across my crotch, about how much more perfectly the panties felt when I pull myself through in this manner that fed this deviant urge of mine.
There are times when masturbating feels different, when it feels like there’s an intense, delicious, electrical charge with each stoke. This was one of those times. Even though I stopped every five seconds or so to listen for any movement from outside, the sensations I felt seemed to electrify my very core.
It didn’t take long before I climaxed, squeezing my cock with my fist, so as to avoid spraying my seed all over my friend’s sister’s room. I stroked, I squeezed, I shook. Unfortunately, I knew I didn’t have much time to experience the after-glow of my panty-session, so once I was satisfied that I wouldn’t leave any cum stains anywhere, I quickly pulled down my panties, and stepped back into my own shorts, making sure to replace the panties to their position on the floor in the same manner in which I found them. I then rejoined my friends, who barely even seemed to notice my absence.
I sat, playing my cards as though nothing happened, and, at the time, it seemed as though little had. Deep inside, however, I knew the truth. This incident had re-awakened a part of me, a piece that had been buried by the social mores of high school, and thoughts of “appropriate behavior.” Seeing those panties almost hypnotized me, casting a spell that would not be ignored.
I needed panties in my life. I needed to wear panties. I would wear panties. Of course, I was still young, and far from being independent. I knew it would take time to be able to live a life in panties, but if my friend’s sister’s white, cotton panties were any indication, it would happen. My yearning for panties controlled me, not the other way around. I was a panty-wearing faggot, and would not be denied.
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