It was only a little experiment: I was quite a young boy, but I wanted to know what it felt like to wear ladies’ knickers. Ladies’ knickers were troubling me: I didn't know why, or how it started, but I found I wanted to touch them. Badly. It was more than mere curiosity, it was something deeper, a want, a physical need, which made my tummy squirm when I thought about them. Something told me it was wrong, but whenever I glimpsed a lady's panties I felt a pang of envy.

There were few opportunities of getting hold of ladies' knickers at home. But I was often sent to stay with my grandmother, and I knew that she must have lots of knickers in her bedroom. At first, the idea of my grandmother's knickers was not at all interesting. But one day she did her washing, and hung out a long line of knickers in the garden. They smelled sweetly and shone brilliantly in the warm spring sunshine. I found myself studying them while I played, and very soon they began to seem more appealing...

Continued in Member's Area