An Itsy-Bitsy Favor free porn video

SYNOPSIS: Like so many times before, it was just a little favor. Just another itsy-bitsy favor his mother had conned him into. Trouble is, any time she managed to manipulate him into doing one of her itsy-bitsy favors ... well, things just never seemed to end well. Would he ever learn? And, if he did learn, what exactly would he learn? He literally shook with fear as, once again, he heard the words he dreaded most ... "Honey, please, it won't take you that much time. Pretty please! It's just an itsy-bitsy favor ... really! Thank you. Thank you so much!" "An Itsy-Bitsy Favor" By: Simonne Danielle © 2011 All Rights Reserved 'This can't possibly end well!' I shivered uncontrollably, thinking of the task ahead. That was the uppermost thought overriding every other thought in my addled brain - - the ONLY thought, really - - as I approached her house. The same old all-too-familiar feeling of dread, fear, and apprehension had already drenched my t-shirt with nervous perspiration and my stomach was beginning to do back flips. It's the typical physical and emotional response that automatically envelopes my entire being whenever I find myself in the same ZIP code as her. Because, like I said, these things never end well. Not for me they don't. I mean ... they NEVER had! And ... if past outcomes are an accurate predictor of future events, they NEVER would! 'Some things just don't change,' I sighed with resignation as I steeled my weakening resolve to do what I had been sent to do. In any event, I thought ... as I cut across the wet lawn to save time ... I was already here and there was nothing I could do but get in, get it over with as fast as possible, and get out ... hopefully unscathed. It's probably obvious but the power of positive thinking has never been my strong suit. So this was, in all probability, wishful thinking on my part. Regardless, I tried to boost my self-confidence by telling myself that maybe, just maybe, this time things wouldn't end as badly as they had in the past. There was always that hope. Once again, like so many other times, Mom, with her infinite capacity to ignore the disastrous consequences that always seem to befall me, had asked me to do it. Actually, she conned me into it. More accurately, I had allowed her to con me into it. She has this way about her. Whatever! I couldn't refuse her request. But really ... I don't think she has any idea the embarrassment and ridicule I'm forced to endure every time she asks for one of her "itsy-bitsy favors". This time that favor being, as harmless as it sounds, returning a blouse she had borrowed from her best-friend-in-the-whole-world. Harmless? Yeah, right! About as 'harmless' as some of the other "itsy-bitsy" favors she's asked me to do from time to time. I'm talking embarrassing favors here! Some more embarrassing ... some less. But always, it seems, 'harmless' favors that end up embarrassing me in some way or other. I know it's not her nature to intentionally cause me mental anguish. But, invariably, when Mom asks for one of her "itsy-bitsy favors", I wind up the object of ridicule, derision, and scorn. How could I be so certain that the harmless act of returning a stupid blouse would result in unavoidable and inevitable embarrassment and ridicule, you ask. Ah-ha! Therein lies my tale of woe. Doing this "itsy-bitsy favor" for Mom ... returning her best friend's blouse ... meant delivering it to the one person in the whole world whose sole mission in life is to taunt, tease, manipulate, demean, and humiliate me beyond anything a person should be forced to endure. Any contact with Lenore, even the briefest interaction, never fails to provide her a no-holds-barred license to pulverize me into mincemeat ... psychologically speaking. Like it's her birthright or something. Oh, almost forgot. The aforementioned Lenore just happens to be the evil offspring of Mom's best-friend-in-the-whole world. Why couldn't Mom return the damn blouse herself and save me a whole lot of misery? I could have - - I should have - - concocted some sort of excuse to get out of it but I just couldn't bring myself to refuse her. Even though doing her this "itsy-bitsy favor" would no doubt provide Lenore yet another opportunity to sink her fangs deep into my already fragile psyche. It was something that this devious and manipulative girl had always derived great pleasure from ever since we were ... well, since forever. Returning the blouse ... naturally, it had to be the frilliest, girliest garment you could ever imagine ... and knowing Lenore was home by herself, ranked as high up on my 'most embarrassing moments' hit parade as the time the four of us ... Mom and me and Lenore and her mom ... had been out to dinner. The time when, as we were exiting the restaurant, Mom asked me to "Pretty please!" run into the drug store and grab her a box of tampons ... ! "You know the ones I use, Tony. The super absorbent. Oh, and I need some FDS. Get me the 'delicate breeze' fragrance this time, will you? I'm just about out of the 'baby powder' fragrance you got me last time. Oh for heaven's sake, don't look so embarrassed. It's just an itsy-bitsy favor. We'll be waiting in the car. Thank you so much, honey." And with that said she planted one of her motherly smooches smack on my mouth before gently steering me off in the direction of the drug store. I mean, c'mon! Gimmee a break! Asking me to do something like that right in front of her best-friend-in-the-whole-world and her best friend's daughter - - my all time nemesis! What was she THINKING? At least I had the foresight and common sense to ask the smirking young girl at the register to double bag my purchase so the bright blue box of tampons and the shocking pink can of feminine deodorant spray wouldn't show through and announce to the whole world what I was carrying. "Thanks, Mom!" I growled sarcastically as I climbed into the back seat. "The girl at the check-out sure gave me a funny look! I don't know what girls think is so funny about a guy buying junk like this," I added, trying to make light of my embarrassing situation. What I didn't realize until I got in the car and saw my reflection in the window was that Mom's motherly smooch had left my lips thoroughly coated with her fire engine red lipstick. No wonder the salesgirl was smirking! Don't think Lenore didn't take full advantage of my utter humiliation when I got into the car. Capitalizing on my obvious burning shame and humiliation, she grabbed the bag from my hand and dumped the contents in her lap, holding up the two items and loudly asking Mom if I had bought the right stuff. After Mom assured her I had - - "My Tony always knows exactly what I prefer." - - Lenore uncapped the spray can and spritzed it all over, innocently claiming she wanted to see what it smelled like ... "There you go, Tony. Now you can smell just as feminine fresh as your mom!" she declared with that evil cackle of hers. "I have to say, though, I can't blame the salesgirl for staring at you. Really, this color looks yummy on you. You should wear it more often," she added as I furiously wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Our moms got a good laugh out of that. Okay, so maybe the wine Mom had to drink at dinner had her a little tipsy and she wasn't really meaning any harm. But the fact still remains that Lenore has yet to let me forget THAT one and her taunting laughter is still ringing in my ears! Then there was the time when Mom realized at the last minute that the vintage cocktail gown she planned to wear should be updated - - "It's WAY too long, honey! Surely you can see that!" - - and needed to be hemmed. Using the cajoling, syrupy, pleading tone she hauls out from her bag of tricks whenever she wants to con me into doing one of her "itsy-bitsy favors", she cooed, "Just slip this on, Tony. It's just an itsy-bitsy favor and it'll only take a second. With your help we'll have it hemmed in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Thank goodness we're the same size. Pretty please!" I'd let her con me into being her dress dummy enough times, that's for sure. I mean, ever since my own 'statuesque' physique developed to equal her five-foot, two-inches, she would routinely have me in a dress or skirt whenever she felt the need to make alterations, praising my cooperative attitude and letting me know how much money I was helping her save. So her request really wasn't all that unusual. After all, it had been just the two of us since as far back as I could remember. As fate would have it, no sooner had I stepped up onto the stool Mom had planted in the middle of the living room, then in walked Lenore and her mom. Mom tried her best to quell Lenore's hysterical laughter and incessant taunts ... all to no avail. All I can say is thank god I had my own underwear on! Because the first thing Lenore did was to lift the hem and peek. That was embarrassing enough. But the next thing she did, right in front of our moms, was to reach up under my dress and pinch my ass! Hard! The black and blue mark her pinch left lasted a whole week. It looked like I had a hickey on my ass! Our moms thought it was so cute! Lenore's proprietary grope had me almost in tears, though our moms seemed totally nonplussed by my emotional devastation at her hands. Pinching my ass, even grabbing my balls in that vice-like grip of hers, has always been one of her favorite ways of proving who's in charge. Personally, I think it's a mental sickness. "I'm surprised you're not wearing panties, Tony," Lenore teased as I stood defenseless in Mom's dress and wishing I could find a hole to crawl into. "This dress just screams for pretty lingerie. We really should get him a pair of nylons. His sweaty feet will stain these delicate heels. And his top should be padded out. How can this dress hang properly without a bust line? I could run home and get my old falsies," she suggested as she gave my nipple a vicious twist. My screeching 'EEEEK!' only served to spur her on, "God, Tony, you sound like a little girl who just saw a mouse run across the room. I really need to get a picture of this." At least Mom had the common sense to step in front of Lenore and insist she put away her camera phone just before she memorialized my embarrassing predicament for posterity. I hate to think what Mom would have done to ME if I would have dared to lift Lenore's dress and peek at HER panties! It was embarrassing enough standing on that stool wearing Mom's emerald- green retro cocktail gown, matching high-heeled pumps, and even a black petticoat to pouf everything out. Standing on that narrow stool in the high heels Mom insisted were necessary to properly hem her dress was difficult enough. But being forced to pose that way and have to put up with Lenore's groping and teasing cackling to boot almost made me lose my balance and threatened to put me in a leg cast for the next eight weeks. Our moms finally managed to hush her. But not before her taunts had reduced me to a quivering blob of jello. And don't get me started on how much Mom loves to brag about how 'helpful' I am around the house. I don't mind helping out. Really I don't. But Mom's bragging only serves as fodder to feed Lenore's sadistic impulses so she can call attention to and ridicule what she derisively calls my less-than-manly nature to anyone within earshot. Like the time she barged in with one of her girlfriends while I was finishing up some ironing ... "God, Tony," she tormented me, "no 'real guy' stays indoors on such a beautiful day and irons his mother's clothes! You should be outside playing ball with the guys. Oh wait! You're too much of a milktoast wimp to play any sports! Hey, maybe I should drop off some of my stuff ... as long as you've got the ironing board all set up!" Then, to add salt to the wounds she had gouged in what little remained of my pride, she tauntingly asked, "Do me a favor, will you? Run and grab me one of your mom's tampons. I just started and I'm having a really heavy flow this month. I need to change and don't have a spare. Tell your mom I said thanks. I'll give you one of mine to replace it next time you come over." She loves rubbing in things like that. Especially in front of her snooty girlfriends. There are other examples too numerous to recount. But, you get the picture. With memories of those times to remind me of what I was about to face and that all-too-familiar sense of foreboding ... I rang the doorbell. "TONY!" Lenore screeched at the top of her lungs as she opened the front door with a glass of red wine sloshing in her hand. "What the HELL are YOU doing here?" When her mom's away Lenore loves to play. And, she loves her wine. Judging by her slightly swaying body and flushed face this wasn't her first glass. That's another thing. Lenore is the screecher of all screechers. I don't think she's capable of conversing at a level less than a hundred and ten decibels. I tried to plug my ears but with the stupid blouse draped tenuously from its floral-patterned, padded satin hanger hooked over my index finger I could only manage to block one ear. Her piercing screech? How can I describe it? Try this. Imagine the sound of a freight train braking to an emergency stop! "I ... I'm here to ret ... return your Mom's blouse," I replied tentatively, wondering if my ears would ever stop ringing or how I could unravel the twisted knots in my stomach. I know I must have looked like the total dork she always accuses me of being ... gawking with my mouth agape as Lenore stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright hallway chandelier, wearing one of those shorty see-through bathrobes. You know ... the kind of robe a girl wears when she wants to look like she's not really wearing a robe. And then there were those sexy high-heeled slippers she's always strutting around in ... the ones with all that fuzzy, fluffy junk on the toes. "You BORROWED my mother's blouse, TONY?" she screeched incredulously, loud enough to attract the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Evans who just happened to be passing by at that very instant. "Why would YOU borrow one of my mother's blouses?" She paused dramatically for the benefit of Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I'm sure. Then added even louder and with that witchy cackle of hers, "Or maybe, TONY, you STOLE my mom's blouse! Oh my GOD, Tony! You DID! You STOLE my mother's BLOUSE! Your mom found out you stole it and she's making you return it to teach you a lesson! So, I take it you're here to confess your sins and beg for forgiveness." She knew I hadn't stolen her mom's blouse! Why would I steal a blouse? She was just seizing another opportunity to grind my tortured psyche into mincemeat ... like she always does! And, like always, it was working like a charm. I stood there speechless and quivering, wondering how long it would be before she had my balls in one of her vice-like grips. I mean, ever since she discovered how vulnerable a set of male gonads can be she uses mine just to keep in practice. I squeezed my thighs together tightly. You know ... just in case. Mr. and Mrs. Evans paused briefly, like they were trying to decide if they had heard Lenore correctly. Briefly enough to process her taunting remarks accusing me of stealing the delicate, flimsy blouse draped on the hanger hooked over my finger. I could see them shaking their heads in disbelief and staring accusingly in my direction. It was embarrassing enough walking the short distance from my house while carrying her mother's pale pink blouse swaying unmanageably in the breeze on its padded satin hanger. But having my eardrums pierced to shreds in the process and my very manhood threatened with certain mayhem put me off my stride and added to my embarrassment by tenfold. Publicly accusing me of stealing the ridiculously frilly garment made the heat rise in my face and the bile in my gut boil since we both knew her outrageous accusation was a bald-faced lie. And the blouse ... the damned PINK blouse! Of course it had to be PINK! It was billowy, all see-through and silky-smooth, not unlike the robe Lenore was wearing. It had tiny pleats and a delicate panel of ruffles down the front and balloon-like chiffon sleeves that ended with satin French cuffs. How can I describe the blouse in such intricate detail? Easy. I had just spent almost an hour washing and ironing it. Part of the "itsy-bitsy favor" my mom had asked of me. To make matters worse, the gentle Spring breeze had played havoc with the ultra lightweight fabric during the short walk from my house to Lenore's, causing it to swirl unmanageably all over the place. Sheesh, I felt like one of those marching band drill team girls you see twirling their pep flags. I could have gathered it in and pressed it to my body I suppose, but Mom had warned me not to return it wrinkled. "WHO'S THERE?" I heard a familiar voice yell from inside. It sounded like Brianna, Lenore's best-friend-in-the-whole-world. And if Brianna was here, that had to mean that Eileen, her other best- friend-in-the-whole-world, was here too. Oh god! The three of them were here! Now I knew I was in for it. The three of them together are capable of tormenting me worse than a gang of tag-team wrestlers. And they usually do. Judging from the way Lenore was dressed I came to the logical conclusion that I had arrived right in the middle of one of her frequent and legendary slumber parties. Believe me, every guy in town has heard the rumors about what goes on at her slumber parties! Me and a buddy had tried to crash their sleepovers more than once. We never got past the front door though because the girls laughingly shooed us away like we were an army of invading insects. We weren't even close to being in the same league as the super-buff gym-rats they preferred to party with anytime she had the house to herself. This was not a good time to show up at the home of my all-time nemesis. Especially since Lenore was obviously half-bagged already. "C'MON LENORE!" a third voice urged in an equally loud, ear-splitting tone of voice, "BRIANNA'S JUST ABOUT TO DO MY COMBOUT!" Yep. It was Eileen. And, judging by that last comment, they were definitely having a slumber party. Ignoring her best-friends-in-the-whole-world for the moment, Lenore gave me one her snooty holier-than-thou looks, obviously calculating her next devious move and silently daring me to offer some sort of reasonable explanation for showing up right in the middle of her slumber party. She knew that my ability to reasonably explain anything to her was non- existent. Just like all the other carefully hand-picked girls in her exclusive clique she has this no-nonsense way of putting any guy in his place. She takes perverse pleasure in showing the low regard and contempt she has for the male of the species by obsessively demonstrating her superiority over me. We've been lifelong neighbors and she's been lording it over me for as long as I can remember. Being practically next door neighbors I was a handy target, though admittedly a very small target ... physically speaking, that is. All the skills she's cultivated to deviously manipulate and then dominate any guy in any situation have been well-honed by using me for practice. It was the way it had always been, and probably always would be. The less contact I had with her, the happier I was. Unfortunately our mothers were best-friends-in-the-whole-world. That meant frequent and unavoidable contact with Lenore. And with that contact came all the frequent and unavoidable teasing and taunting Lenore could devise to inflict on me. Complaining to my mom only exacerbated things, spurring Lenore on to find increasingly devious and downright evil ways to torment me in the most humiliating manner imaginable. I know, because I tried complaining to Mom. Once! After the time she so thoroughly embarrassed me, much to Lenore's delight, when she asked me to do her that "itsy-bitsy favor" and buy her a box of tampons. My complaint fell on deaf ears and since then I kept my mouth zipped and just lived with it. "I ... I ... I just ..." I dumbly tried to answer her. Trying to logically explain myself to Lenore was like trying to catch a moonbeam in a mason jar. Impossible! God, why couldn't I just hand her the stupid blouse and leave! "What?" she demanded. You just WHAT, Tony? You just wanted to thank my mom for lending you one of her prettiest blouses? Or, are you REALLY here to apologize for BORROWING it without asking permission?" 'God, she has a way of twisting things around!' I thought. 'Twisting things around to tease me, or to make me feel foolish in front of everybody, or to just make herself look so damned superior.' Lenore and her high and mighty best-friends-in-the-whole-world have this way of always making me feel small. Like I was some kind of bug they could toy with at their pleasure until they tired of it ... then squish me under their heel at will. Like I said, I was just doing my mother a favor by returning the blouse she had borrowed from Lenore's mom. But Lenore, seizing yet another opportunity to cause me endless torment, wouldn't give me a chance to explain. She never did. "What's the matter, Tony, cat got your tongue? Answer me! Explain why you took my mother's blouse without permission." Then screeching emphatically, for Mr. and Mrs. Evan's benefit, I have no doubt, "AND IF YOU DON'T STOP STARING AT MY UNDIES, I'M CALLING THE COPS! YOU PERV!" That got the attention of the Evans' who were just about to continue on their late afternoon stroll. All they saw was Lenore protectively clutching her sinfully sheer robe tightly to her body - - for all the good THAT did. I did the only thing I could. I smiled weakly at them even as the blouse wafted in the breeze ... as if to poignantly announce its embarrassing presence. Walking over to Lenore's house carrying the blouse was embarrassing enough. Accusing me of staring at her undies like some sort of perv in front of our neighbors could land a guy in deep trouble. Jail even! "I ... I wasn't ... I didn't ... I would never ..." I stuttered, at a loss for words, still trying futilely to explain myself. Knowing how mean-spirited she can be, I just knew she wouldn't hesitate to call the perv-police ... If for no other reason than to have herself a good laugh at my expense. "WHAT?" she screeched loudly, "You didn't WHAT? You didn't like the way my mom's BLOUSE looked on you. Or maybe it didn't FIT properly. Of course it wouldn't fit YOU properly. You should have asked to borrow my old FALSIES if you really wanted the right fit," she screeched on relentlessly. "OH HI, MR. AND MRS. EVANS. Enjoying your stroll?" she waived gaily at them. "Tony is just returning the blouse he says he BORROWED from my mom. Can you imagine? Isn't that just the cutest thing?" "WHAT'S GOING ON OUT THERE?" I heard Brianna holler. "Get out here, you guys," Lenore yelled back, taking a healthy slug of her wine. "You won't BELIEVE who's at the door." "Lenore, please!" I begged, cowering deferentially like always. "I ... I ... just wanted to ... I mean, my mom asked me to bring it back for her. I even washed and ironed it ..." I instantly realized what a dumb thing I had just admitted. Why did I have to go and tell her I had actually washed and ironed the stupid blouse? She has this way of making me blurt out the stupidest things. "Well I think she just wanted to teach you a lesson by forcing you to bring it back and apologize for borrowing it without permission! You actually washed and ironed it? Aren't you just the most perfect mother's little helper. Looks like you did a pretty good job. I'm not surprised, though. You get enough practice. Your Mom certainly lets everyone know every chance she gets how helpful you are around the house," she relentlessly continued, pressing her advantage even further. I could tell by the taunting look in her eyes that even she didn't believe I took her mom's blouse without permission. Or that I even asked to borrow it. For me to wear, I mean. She knew her mom had lent it to my mom. All she wanted was to make me cower with fear and embarrassment like she always did. By the time Brianna and Eileen got to the front door, each with a glass of wine in hand, at least the Evans' had become bored and continued on their way. These girls were bad enough when sober. Pour a little alcohol in them and you can multiply their evilness by a thousand. Even as I tried to calculate their state of sobriety I realized I had suddenly sprouted an even more embarrassing condition. I could feel the 'embarrassment' growing between my legs. Brianna and Eileen were wearing see-through bathrobes of their own. And well ... seeing delectable visions like that just made me go BOING ... you know, down there ... right in front of them! What normal guy wouldn't go BOING seeing three gorgeous babes in diaphanous robes and wearing little else underneath? Could this ordeal get anymore embarrassing? I felt like just throwing the blouse on the floor and running. I should have ... but I didn't because I knew my mother would kill me. So here I was standing before Lenore and her two best-friends-in-the- whole-world, cornered and cowering in yet another embarrassing predicament. A predicament innocently instigated by my mom. I mean, you really have to know my mom. You have to know that she would never return a borrowed garment unless it was in pristine condition. With that in mind she had left it soaking in a mild detergent. When I got home I found her note asking if I wouldn't mind "Pretty Please!" rinsing it out and running it on low heat in the dryer. In her note Mom went on to ask if I would "Pretty please with cherries on top!" iron the blouse so I could return it in the same condition it was when she borrowed it. "Lenore will be home, Tony," she wrote. "You can leave the blouse with her." The note was signed, "Thanks for doing me this itsy-bitsy favor, honey! Love you!" In Mom's typical flowery style every 'i' in her note was dotted with a tiny heart and had a whole bunch of her pink 'smiley faces' drawn all over. Mom's a little on the fanatical side when it comes to making sure things are done exactly the way she wants them - - especially when it comes to her clothing and personal grooming. I mean, she does spend a lot on her stuff - - the finest designer clothing and most expensive cosmetics - - and prides herself on looking like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue before she even dares to leave the house. She takes a lot of pride in her appearance. I can't tell you how many times I felt her wrath when she began teaching me how she wanted her things washed and ironed and I didn't get it quite right. The countless hours, even days, I've spent ironing, then re-ironing, all her things until they meet her satisfaction have paid off. She really loves bragging about how perfect I am. It gets embarrassing for me but it makes her happy. And I sure don't want to face her wrath if I can possibly avoid it. I don't mind doing 'itsy-bitsy favors' like this for Mom despite the ill fates that usually befall me. She works hard and is always so tired when she gets home. Of course, on this particular occasion, I didn't even stop to consider that Lenore might be having one of her stupid slumber parties or how returning the laundered blouse would inevitably provide her another opportunity to commit her patented brand of psyche- genocide on me. I could never think that many steps ahead. Lenore knows damned well I do all the laundry. Mom brags often enough about what a great job I do around the house. Or as Mom likes to crow to anyone who will listen, "My Tony ... he's simply the perfect mother's little helper! Every girl should be so lucky." Now here I was. Staring at the sight of these three girls wearing nothing more than sheer robes over their bras and panties. That vision had me rooted to Lenore's front porch like one of those equestrian groom figurines you find decorating the manicured lawns of southern plantations. Except you don't see those statues posing with a huge erection poking out their jodhpurs like I was poking out my running shorts. How embarrassing! "What's HE doing here?" Brianna screeched almost as loud as Lenore had. "He's trying to crash our slumber party," Eileen concluded. "He's tried to do it before, in case you guys don't remember. And STOP STARING at my panties, YOU PERV!" she screeched as she wrapped her short robe tightly around her buxom figure in a feigned effort to almost, but not quite, conceal her bra and panties. "I ... I'm NOT a perv," I squealed, trying unsuccessfully to express my outrage, but nevertheless still gawking all buggy-eyed. "Oh yeah! Then how come you've got a hard-on? God, you ARE a perv!" Brianna screeched, causing me to reflexively hold the blouse up in front of me to conceal the embarrassing lump that had involuntarily reached its full length and girth inside my shorts. Lenore and company never fail to seize an opportunity to publicly point out any guy's involuntary biological reaction to the flirty and suggestive clothing they wear and the flirty and suggestive ways they flaunt themselves. Especially me! Let me tell you, nothing embarrasses a guy more than having his erection made the center of attention and then being called a pervert. But what red-blooded guy in his right mind wouldn't hesitate to stare at three gorgeous babes surrounding him in see-through robes wearing nothing but their bras and panties underneath? Even if it meant publicly sporting an embarrassing boner. I was no perv! I was just an ordinary guy. But the way the girls were snarling made me feel like the perviest perv of all time. It's what their taunts were designed to do ... keep guys on the defensive. It never failed! The incorrigible erection inside my running shorts only served to add credence to their accusations. "He's not trying to crash our slumber party," Lenore smiled with mocking sincerity at her girlfriends. "He's just here to return the blouse he borrowed from my mom. Right, Tony? You weren't thinking of crashing our slumber party, were you? Then again, maybe you were. Anyone who would borrow a pretty blouse like this certainly has dreams of being invited to a slumber party with the rest of the girls." My face was on fire. I couldn't think of a smart, snappy comeback. I never could. My mouth simply wouldn't shift into gear. "I ... I ... just wanted to bring this blouse back," I stuttered. "I mean ... my mom wanted me to ... to ... I ... I only wanted to ..." "To WHAT, Tony?" Eileen screeched. "To bust in on our slumber party? I really don't think your mother would be too happy if we were to tell her you tried to crash our slumber party just so you could dangle your stupid-looking boner in our faces." "Eileen, p ... please ...don ... don't tell my mother I did th ... that!" I begged. "Pl ... please don't! You wouldn't ... you couldn't!" "Oh, I don't know," Lenore said clinically, ignoring my futile pleas, and reaching towards my groin, "it's not so stupid-looking. Small, yes, but I think it's kind of cute." Before I could react she reached out to take a not-so-clinical grip on my jewels ... and squeeze hard. Truthfully, I'm surprised my balls are still attached. Lenore never misses an opportunity to grab hold and squeeze to the point I feel nauseous whenever she wants to emphatically make a point of proving she can do anything she wants to me, anytime she feels like it. Like the time she reached up under that dress I was helping Mom hem and pinched my ass. She's always doing stuff like that to embarrass me. It's like she thinks she owns me or something. I instinctively tried to back away. At the same time, fearing I would lose my grip on the hanger, I held it tightly against my chest. "Look!" Eileen screeched accusingly. "He's trying to show us how cute the blouse looks on him!" I glanced down. Sure enough, it did look like I was holding up the blouse against me ... just like a girl does when she's assessing how a garment might look on her. "Well I don't know about you guys," Brianna offered, "but I'd love to see how Tony looks in this blouse." "Aww c'mon, you guys ... " I interjected, "Th ... that's not what I'm trying to do. I just ... wanted to ... to ... keep from dropping it on the floor." Ignoring my sputtering attempt to protest, Lenore grabbed me by the arm and pulled me further inside ... trapping me ... blocking any attempt to make a break for it. She's always ten steps ahead of me. "What a great idea, Brianna!" she exclaimed. "Tony would love to model Mom's blouse for us. Wouldn't you, Tony? Don't you want to show us how lovely it looks on you? I bet you even tried it on before you washed and ironed it. How could you not resist taking just a little peek in the mirror while you modeled it? It's so pretty. Don't you want our opinion? If you want, I could dig out the skirt that goes with it. Mom usually wears her white silk pleated skirt with this blouse. I'm surprised you didn't ask to borrow the whole set. With legs like these, you'd look so HOT in that mini skirt!" She was running her fingers lightly over the exposed flesh between my thighs ... all the way up to the hem of my running shorts. "Lenore, I couldn't! I mean ... I ... didn't try it on! I would never ... " clenching my thighs even tighter just in case she tried to reach any higher. "No need to be embarrassed, Tony," she prattled on. "It's just us girls here. It's what we do at slumber parties. You know, model lots of pretty outfits for each other. Of course we'll let you model your pretty blouse for us if that's what you want to do." She had grabbed the hanger from my hand and was holding the blouse up, cocking her head in contemplation as she assessed how it would look on me. I tried to break free of her grasp. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. Eileen, with her ever-present camera phone, was snapping a photo of the blouse as Lenore held it against me. This whole bizarre episode was getting way out of hand. I had to get myself out of there! With no other thought in mind than to make a break for it I wrenched myself free and made a move towards the door. My sudden movement caused Lenore to drop the hanger. The blouse landed in a heap at my feet and, in my rush to get out of the house, I stepped on it. The three girls gasped in horror as all four of us immediately saw the grass stain on the blouse ... a perfect imprint of my tennis shoe! I should never have cut across Lenore's front lawn! I was dead meat! I knew I was toast as surely as the sun comes up. Lenore didn't even have to squeeze my balls this time. My mind was already doing a great job of mentally squeezing them all by itself. I was grimacing from the imagined pain! And, like always, I was at a loss for words. "I ... I'm sorry, Lenore!" I stammered even as I bent over to retrieve the despoiled blouse. "It ... it was a ... an accident! I'll take it home and wash and iron it again," I offered. "Oh Tony, you don't have to go to all that trouble," Lenore smiled as she picked up the blouse before I could. I didn't like the look of that smile. It was a victorious smile that announced in no uncertain terms she had me right where she wanted me. "Really?" I asked hesitantly. "I wouldn't mind taking it home, you know. Really." At least taking the blouse home to re-wash it would get me out of there. Mom could return it herself tomorrow. Problem solved! "Why go all the way home when you can just wash and iron it here?" she laughed. "You can still give us a quick fashion show first ... you know, show us how cute the blouse looks on you. Then you can wash and iron it. After, if you do a real good job ... who knows, maybe we'll invite you to join our little slumber party." "I ... I don't think so, L ... Lenore. I should just take it home and ..." "Look, Tony, your mom's probably home by now," she interrupted. "If you go back with the blouse in this deplorable condition she'll see how careless you've been. I mean, how you almost practically ruined it. Won't she be pissed off when she sees that? At least if you do it here we might be able to help you salvage it. Your mom will never have to know." As usual, Lenore's logic was impeccable and brooked no argument. Brianna and Eileen were giggling like a couple of hyenas. And I could see the exchange of knowing winks passing between all three. They were definitely up to something. She was right about mom getting pissed off, that's for sure. Her offer to help me avoid Mom's wrath ... which my panicked mind assured me would no doubt include something on the order of grounding me for life ... was tempting. But if I accepted her 'generous' offer would it also mean I'd have to further debase myself by letting them force me to model the blouse for them? That question was quickly answered. Too quickly! Lenore didn't give me a nanosecond to even consider rejecting her suggestion. In a flash she unbuttoned the blouse from the hanger and was holding it up to me. She was critically examining the offensive grass stain and wrinkling her nose in disgust ... just like I knew Mom would. It didn't look all that bad to me. I was pretty sure the stain would come out easily enough if I could get it into some cool, soapy water right away. Mom would never have to know how I had mishandled her friend's blouse. I reached for the blouse, in silent acquiescence to the girls' demand that I model it, intending to quickly slip it on, then get it off before they could concoct any more ways to humiliate me or before Eileen could take any more pictures. Lenore put the kybosh on that plan. "Tony," she cooed in a somewhat exasperated tone, "you can't possibly model a blouse this pretty over your t-shirt. It's sheer because it's designed to show off what a girl wears underneath. Besides, your grungy t-shirt will stain it even more. Take off your t-shirt and model it the way it's supposed to be modeled." The fact that I was going to wash it anyway ... so who cared about sweat stains ... completely escaped my limited ability to reason. With a heavy sigh of resignation I slipped off my t-shirt and held out my arms to receive the blouse. "EEEW!" Brianna screeched. "I don't want to see his boy-boobies!" "Me neither!" Eileen concurred as she made a theatrical display of covering her eyes. "Then what, ladies?" Lenore asked all-too innocently. "Are you suggesting that Tony wear something under his blouse to modestly cover up? Like maybe a pretty bra? ... " I grimaced, knowing the girls wouldn't let a suggestion like that go unchallenged. "Any respectable girl would wear a bra," Brianna said authoritatively, quickly picking up on the escalating humiliation Lenore was heaping on me, then taunted me further by opening her robe and flashing her baby- blue satin and lace bra in my face. "See?" I almost shot my load right there and then! "Tony, you should too," she prattled on. "You don't want to show off your boy-boobies to the whole world, do you?" "She's right, Tony," Lenore urged. "It wouldn't be respectable. Look at us. Here we are, having our own private slumber party. Just us three girls. You don't see us showing off our boobs, do you? We're all wearing bras and panties." She signaled Eileen with a suggestive wink and the two of them opened their robes to flash me their colorful bras and panties. God help me! All three were posing with their robes splayed wide open, shamelessly modeling their undies for me! For the chance to gawk at delectable visions like these I'd agree to ANYTHING! Any normal guy would! "Let's see if we can't find you something to cover up with ... you know, for modesty's sake," as if wearing a bra was a necessary foregone conclusion. Lenore grabbed my hand and dragged me back to her bedroom with a giggling Brianna and Eileen trailing behind. I was beyond embarrassed. This wasn't happening! How could I allow myself to be manipulated into such a horrific predicament? Then I thought how Mom would feel, or how she'd react, if she found out how careless I'd been with her friend's blouse. Modeling the blouse, even if I had to wear a bra with it, was definitely the lesser of two evils. Lenore refilled their wine glasses and poured one for me. I took it gratefully, hoping a little alcohol would calm the pounding in my chest. While I stood topless in the middle of Lenore's bedroom shivering from fear and embarrassment, not to mention the ice-cold air conditioning, the three girls took their sweet time rummaging through Lenore's undies drawer, leaving plenty of time for my feelings of vulnerability and humiliation to build to a fever pitch. So much for the calming effects of the wine. I saw flashes of silk and lace, in a rainbow of colors, as they haphazardly tossed one dainty article after another onto the bed, obviously searching for just the right one. What difference does it make which bra, I thought, as they went about the business of adding to my humiliation beyond anything I could have imagined when I let myself get conned into doing Mom's "itsy-bitsy favor". I wasn't planning to be wearing this junk for any length of time. Just long enough to satisfy their kinky urges. Then get everything off, wash and iron the stupid blouse and get myself the hell out of this mess. Plus, I still had dinner to prepare. "Ah-ha!" Lenore exclaimed. "Found it! This will look perfect under your pretty blouse, Tony!" She held out a lacy satin bra by its spaghetti-thin straps, waiting expectantly for me to slip my arms in. Only this bra didn't have any cups to speak of. Just a couple of tiny, flat, lace-trimmed, floral patterned triangles connected by a tiny white bow in the center. The exclusively girly contraption ... the ultimate indisputable symbol of femininity... seemed to be winking at me, teasing me. I know the astonished look on my face screamed embarrassment ... and confusion. It sure didn't look like any bra in my mother's collection. "It's a training bra, Tony," Lenore lectured as if she were speaking to a kid sister. "It's the very first bra I ever wore and I've been saving it as a treasured memento. Every little girl saves her first. You don't have any more up top to show off than I did before I started developing. It's perfect for an underdeveloped girly-boy like you. Precious, don't you think?" "He's not THAT underdeveloped," Eileen insisted. "Look how his nipples are all stiff and puffy!" "Th ... that's because it's so ... so cold in here!" I complained, looking down to see just how noticeably the air conditioning had caused my nipples to erect. I crossed my arms over my nipples in that same protective, self- conscious way any girl would. Except I wasn't a girl! "Well then, we better get you covered up. Arms out," Lenore tittered as she slipped the straps up my arms and settled them over my shoulders. Brianna came up behind me and secured the single hook and eye, causing the flat satin triangles to stretch tautly over my nipples. If anything, I could feel them erect even further. The painfully obvious fact was that Lenore's first bra ... the bra she wore when she was probably eleven or twelve years old ... fit me to a tee and only served to emphasize just how petite I was. My nipples were tenting out that stupid training bra like erasers on a pencil. "Oh my god!" Brianna screeched. "Look at his nipples! He's actually getting turned on wearing this bra!" Believe me, I wasn't feeling turned on. But I was feeling more humiliated than when Mom made me buy her that box of tampons right in front of Lenore. Brianna was scraping her sharp fingernails across my traitorous nipples, flicking them incessantly, urging them to even greater fullness. The heat in my cheeks could not have been any hotter. And that's not the only thing that was becoming more erect! "I'll say he's getting turned on!" Eileen agreed. "Check THIS out!" She grabbed hold of the other erection making its presence painfully obvious ... the one inside my running shorts ... and began teasing it. Lenore in the meantime, still trying to control her giddiness at having achieved yet another coup at my expense, slipped the blouse over my torso and began doing up the buttons. To add to my increasingly self- conscious embarrassment, she left the top buttons undone so that the lace on the stupid training bra showed. Of course, the blouse was so sheer the entire bra could be clearly seen in all its juvenile glory. Even though my nipples were making noticeable, almost obscene, exclamation points, at least the tails of the blouse covered up my boner. That is until Lenore tucked the tails inside, leaving my incorrigible boner lewdly tenting out my shorts. My clever plan to quickly get out of the blouse was further thwarted when the girls gleefully insisted that I strut back and forth across the bedroom in model-like fashion as they tauntingly reminded me that I could always take the blouse home to wash - - and be forced to explain everything to my mom - - if I didn't feel like cooperating. And they used the opportunity to snap off more pictures on their phones. Taking pictures of me prancing back and forth in a blouse and bra seemed kind of silly. If they wanted something sexy to shoot they'd achieve better results by taking pictures of themselves. Whenever I approached them they'd reach out playfully to stroke my nipples and my boner. As I walked away they'd grope my ass. The wine we had already consumed was fortifying their resolve to have their way with me and weakening my ability to fend them off. I was at their mercy and they knew it. They weren't going to be satisfied until they thoroughly humiliated me ... until they brought about the inevitable conclusion their titillating caresses were bound to cause. They wanted to make me do the nasty! They wanted to tease and stroke and caress the traitorous tent in my shorts until I embarrassed myself by shooting my load right in front of them. Their running commentary left no doubt as to their intentions. "C'mon, Tony," Brianna urged. "Let's see you shoot this little popgun of yours!" "Oooh, I think he's real close," Eileen observed. "I can feel it twitching. A girl can always tell when a guy is close." "Hah! Some guy he is! Not in this pretty blouse and bra!" Lenore laughed. "I bet he can't even cum like a guy!" She pulled me in close, slipped her hand up through the leg of my running shorts and underpants. I winced thinking for sure she was going to maul my balls again. Instead she began tenderly caressing up and down my shaft. She grabbed my hand and clenched it between her thighs, trapping me close to her. I could feel the hot moisture seeping through her panties. Brianna was tickling my nipples and Eileen had snuck up beside me to caress my butt. That was all it took! My head felt like it was expanding and contracting like an accordion. My breathing was rapid and shallow. My knees got weak and began to buckle. I heard an involuntary screeching "UUNNGGHH!" coming from my throat as the inevitable happened. I shot arguably the biggest batch of gooey, sticky, steaming-hot cum I'd ever shot. I could feel it flooding my underpants, saturating the tails of Lenore's mom's blouse, through my nylon running shorts, and all over Lenore's hand. Then I felt it trickling down my thighs. "Ooops," Lenore laughed. "Looks like I was wrong. He can cum like a guy! Now let's see if he can seal the deal like a GIRL!" Lenore pulled her drippy hand out of my underwear and casually smeared the pearly-white goop across my lips. "YUCK!" I screeched as loud as any of the three of them had ever screeched. "Why'd you have to go and do that for?" "'Cuz it's what we girls do, Tony," Lenore replied. "Clean up the messes we make, I mean. You should too. I know it's a shock the first time. But girls get used to it - - even come to adore it - - eventually. So will you. It's an acquired taste." "I ... I don't want to get used to it!" I argued futilely, swiping my forearm across my mouth in disgust. "I'm no girl!" "Ha-Ha," Eileen laughed. "First you brag about washing and ironing this blouse. Then agree to model it for us. Even agree to wear your first training bra. All so you can be one of the girls at our slumber party. Bet me you're not a girl! You are! You're one of those TV's ... a 'television' girly-boy!" "Eileen," Lenore laughed hysterically at Eileen's malapropism. "It's not TV like in television, you dummy! In Tony's case you mean transvestite ... a boy who gets his rocks off by dressing all girly. And Tony has certainly been getting his rocks off since we dressed him in his pretties!" I'm sure it was the wine talking. But oh man, did these girls have a way of twisting everything around to their way! Brianna had managed to scoop up some of the cum that had dribbled down my thighs and was licking it from her fingers with a glazed look of satisfaction on her face. Lenore was doing the same. And both of them were actually enjoying it! Definitely the wine! Okay, so I got my rocks off! That was a good thing, right? And I sure didn't think of myself as one of those 'television' guys! Now all I wanted was to get out of there and forget this ever happened. "Okay, girls, you've had your fun. I have to get going. My mom's probably wondering where I am. And I have to get dinner started," I managed to gasp breathlessly, for the first time without stammering. I reached for my t-shirt. "Not so fast, Tony. There's still your blouse to wash and iron. And you sure don't want to go home with this huge stain all over the front of your shorts. You'll have to wash these too. After all, what would your mom say if you show up all icky-sticky with cum crusted all over your shorts?" I looked down at my white nylon running shorts. Sure enough, there was a huge spot saturating the entire front. Not only that. My cum had turned the white nylon so translucent that I could see my white cotton underpants right through it. So could the girls. Their giddy laughter stung my ears more than their piercing screeches. "C'mon, Tony, we'll help you. First things first," Lenore directed. "Get out of your clothes. Brianna, fill up the sink. Eileen, grab a wash cloth so we can clean off Tony's pecker. Don't want any of this sticky cum staining his fresh panties." Without giving me a chance to even think of protesting, she undid the blouse and slipped it off, leaving me embarrassingly on display in her training bra. "What're you talking about, Lenore? What fresh panties?" "You don't think we're going to let you stand around naked in front of us while you wash and iron, do you? Sheesh! If you're that shy I'll find you a robe. Now c'mon, get undressed." Lenore grabbed at my shorts and underwear, making a theatrical grimace at the gooey cum saturating the garments as she lowered them to my feet. She untied the laces on my tennis shoes and roughly pulled them off. "Don't want you dripping cum on your shoes, Tony. You'll have to wash them too and they'll take all night to dry. You'll have to go home barefoot. Or ... I could lend you a pair of heels to wear home. Wouldn't your mom LOVE seeing that! Oh wait. She's seen you in heels lots of times, hasn't she? You wear her heels every time you help hem her dresses." I could feel Lenore's psychological, vice-like grip on my balls tightening. Eileen came back with a wet wash cloth. Lenore grabbed it and began washing my cock and balls like my family jewels were her own personal property. Then Eileen came over with a tub of powder ... sweetly- scented girly talcum powder ... and patted it all over my groin. "This will absorb any excess moisture, Tony," she offered. "Keep you from staining your fresh panties." I cringed when I saw Lenore approaching with a pair of silky pink bikini panties dangling off her fingertip. She was enjoying my growing shame and embarrassment as much as she had enjoyed anything she'd ever done to me. "Here Tony, these are the panties I was picturing you wearing when I found you helping your mom hem her gown," she teased as she held them open at my feet. "Next time your mom puts you into one of her dresses she'll really appreciate it if you ask her to let you wear the proper lingerie to go with it. You know, like nylons to protect her heels and a pair of decent falsies so her dresses hang properly. That would be the considerate thing to do, don't you think?" Yeah, right! Like I was actually going to ask Mom to let me wear her undies! Whatever! Nevertheless, I reluctantly stepped into them, blushing that she had to go and mention Mom using me as her dress dummy in front of Eileen and Brianna. "I can do it myself," I stated firmly as I raised them into position. "If you're a good little girly-boy I'll let you wear some of my prettiest panties and bras if you'll help me with a bunch of skirts and dresses of mine that need hemming," she suggested to rub it in even more. The instant the silky fabric of Lenore's panties wrapped itself around my cock I could feel it begin to expand ... and throb. "Oooh look!" Eileen squealed. "Tony likes his new panties!" Not content to expose me as Mom's dress dummy, Lenore reached into her purse and pulled out, of all things, a tampon. The wine was definitely getting to her. "Maybe we should give Tony the full girly experience," she teased as she dangled the frightening looking projectile in my face. "You're familiar with tampons, aren't you, Tony? Oh wait," she tormented me even further, "I forgot. You buy tampons and feminine deodorant for your Mom all the time. Haven't you ever wondered what it would feel like to wear one yourself?" she asked accusingly, running it along my panty-covered butt crack, and threatening to shove the intimidating torpedo where the sun doesn't shine. At least she saved me the embarrassment of forcing me to suffer the 'full girly experience' when she relented and said, "Oh c'mon, Tony! Don't look so panicked. I'm just kidding. Actually, I owe you a tampon to replace the one you loaned me. Remember?" Even still, she had made it perfectly clear that there was only one place where a guy could insert an evil-looking projectile like that! She tucked the feminine rapier into the lacy waistband of my panties where it hovered over my groin like my own personal Sword of Damocles. "He loaned you a tampon?" Brianna asked incredulously. "He buys his mom's tampons?" "He sure does. I told you about the ones he bought for his mom after we all had dinner one night," Lenore explained. "He's the perfect mother's little helper. Just ask his mom. And he bought her a can of this too," she laughed as she sprayed a liberal dose of feminine deodorant all over my panties. "There you go, Tony. That will keep you feminine-fresh all night. Just like your mom and us." She sprayed herself and Brianna and Eileen with the intimate deodorant spray. I was burning up with embarrassment! I should have known that Lenore would take sadistic pleasure in telling the girls about the tampon 'nightmare' my mother had put me through in front of her and her mom. Even still, the arousal in my fresh panties was throbbing with even more intensity. Here I was letting these girls humiliate and embarrass me more and more with every passing minute. Why was I getting more and more turned on? What the hell was going on? "I'm warning you, Tony," Lenore threatened, "if you cum in your new panties you'll be washing and ironing them along with everything else. And don't think we're gonna let you stand around naked. I have dozens of panties for you to change into every time you shoot your little popgun. Unless you can find a way to control yourself you'll be here all night. Here, wear these," she insisted as she slipped a pair of hot-pink fuzzy bunny slippers on my feet. Now I knew how thoroughly humiliated that kid in "A Christmas Story" must have felt. I stood there in the middle of Lenore's bedroom wearing the delicate panty and ridiculous-looking training bra and these stupid bunny slippers, thanking my lucky stars she had decided not to impale me with that tampon and trying desperately to will my boner down. It wasn't working. Eileen's fingers running up and down my shaft didn't help any. Out of desperation I begged Lenore for a robe, praying she would show a little mercy and get me one that was long and heavy. I didn't even care what color it was just so it was long and heavy enough to cover the girly panties and bra they had forced on me. That wasn't gonna happen! Nosiree! "So modest," she giggled. "Of course I'll get you a robe, Tony." Lenore went to her closet and came back with a shorty robe just as silky and lacy as the ones she and Brianna and Eileen were wearing ... maybe even shorter, barely covering my panties. It was white and had these long billowing sleeves with wide lace cuffs that extended beyond the tips of my fingers. It was so sheer! "Where's the belt? This thing won't close," I whined. "Yeah, about that," Lenore smiled. "I've looked everywhere and can't seem to find it. Sorry, you'll just have to manage." I had a feeling she was withholding the belt just so the robe would flare open and show off my panties and bra with every step I took. I felt more exposed than I did without the damned robe. Yeah, it had to be another one of her calculated moves just so she could rule the roost! Lenore plucked up the blouse, along with my running shorts and underwear, which she held out at arm's length while pinching her nose in mock disgust, and led me to the bathroom. Brianna was waiting at the sink full of frothy bubbles. Lenore dropped the offensive, cum-stained garments into the water. Then, to add insult to injury, she reached into her hamper for an armful of lingerie waiting to be laundered. There had to be at least a dozen panties, bras, and slips in the pile. "Might as well do all these while you're at it. You don't mind, do you? It's just an itsy-bitsy favor same as you do for your mom. No sense wasting a sink full of bubbles. Why don't you go ahead and get started, Tony. We'll be in the bedroom combing out our hair and doing our make- up. C'mon girls, let's find something pretty for Tony to wear when he's finished. You know, so he won't feel left out at our slumber party. Looking at the sink full of Lenore's delicate lingerie I sighed, knowing I was in for a long night. Thankfully, they left my wine. At least I was right about the grass stain. It hadn't had time to set up and washed out easily. So did the cum that hadn't quite dried on the tail of the blouse. I wish I could say the same for the heavy stains in the gussets of Lenore's panties. Itsy-bitsy favor, my ass! On the other hand, I realized, I'd had to deal with similar stains on Mom's undies all too often, so dealing with Lenore's was nothing new. Actually, dealing with Mom's soiled lingerie as a matter of routine had made me something of a panty-stain aficionado. The very idea of being Lenore's 'panty-stain aficionado' made me giggle to myself. What a claim to fame ... 'Tony - - panty-stain aficionado extraordinaire!' While scrubbing away at Mom's undies, and now Lenore's, I frequently wondered why girls would wear such pretty yet dreadfully stained dainties so close to their most intimate body parts or why they didn't simply discard them in the trash and buy replacements. I was totally absorbed with those ridiculously silly thoughts and the task of scrubbing the cum from my shorts and underwear when I heard, then felt, the three giggling girls kneeling at my feet. They were coating my legs with shaving cream! "What are you guys DOING?" I screeched as I looked down and realized they intended to shave my legs. "Well we're certainly not gonna have you attending our slumber party with furry legs!" Lenore insisted with her impeccable logic. "As pretty as your legs are, Tony, how could you even think of showing them off with all this ugly fuzz?" Brianna added. "We better do his underarms, too," Eileen suggested. "It looks like a forest under here. YUCK!" I sure don't have a lot of 'ugly fuzz' on my legs or a 'forest' under my arms. But I could see the slight patch of peach fuzz through the sheer material of my robe when she raised my arm up high. It did look sort of out of place. I mean, what with the feminine robe and undies I was wearing. No girl would dare to show off an ugly thatch of pit hair while wearing a robe like the one Lenore had so 'graciously' loaned me! With Lenore working on one leg and Brianna working on the other it didn't take but a few minutes for them to totally divest my legs of the light 'fur' running from my ankles to the lacy hem of my panties ... "So you have a proper bikini line, Tony," Lenore laughed. 'How perfectly lovely,' I cringed silently. 'Now I'll have a proper bikini line!' I finished rinsing the blouse, my running shorts and underwear, along with Lenore's load of lingerie. Eileen slipped off my robe so she could shave my underarms. Lenore grabbed it and sighed an exasperated "tut- tut''. "Looks like you'll have to wash and iron this robe too, Tony. You've gone and got the sleeves all wet. And here I thought you were such an expert." As if I'd ever washed any of Mom's stuff while wearing a robe with billowing chiffon sleeves! I groaned and began re-filling the sink. My groans turned to soft moans when I felt Brianna smearing a cooling silky lotion on my legs. I moaned even louder when Eileen and Lenore smeared the same lotion on my underarms and hairless chest ... especially when they lifted the flat satin triangles they teasingly referred to as my 'bra cups' and massaged the lotion into my already sensitized nipples. God, it felt good! The girls could see clear evidence of just how good they were making me feel. My cock was standing at attention and rearing its blood-engorged, purple head inside the lacy waistband of my panties. Brianna plucked at the waistband and peered inside. "We should do Tony down here too," she giggled, grabbing for the can of shaving cream and razor. "Y ...you're not gonna shave me down THERE?" I screeched. "C'mon, you guys, not down THERE!" I was proud of the thatch of pubes surrounding my 'manly' equipment. Heck, I even spent considerable time keeping my fun zone neatly trimmed. Just so, on the outside chance some babe's mouth might someday find itself wrapped around it, she wouldn't suffer the inconvenience of finding one of my pubes lodged between her teeth. I learned about doing that through the grapevine. Guys talk about these things, you know. "Why not?" Lenore said. "We do. There's nothing sexier than a silky- smooth cooch-cooch. Right, girls?" Both girls laughingly murmured their agreement. "I don't have a COOCH-COOCH!" I protested lamely. "Sure you do, Tony," Lenore assured me, sipping from her third glass of wine. "Right here," she pointed out as she slipped her hand inside my panties and boldly poked her lotion-slicked finger forcefully against my asshole. "This is your girly-boy cooch-cooch," she teased as she managed to slip her finger in up to the first knuckle before I instinctively clenched my butt closed. No one had ever gone there before! But, god forgive me, it felt good! "Listen to Lenore, Tony," Brianna enthusiasticall