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Honor the Clothes By Rosie That day the heat wasn't so bad and I could do some work on the fence. Normally, I'm not a manual worker but under the circumstances I do what needs to be done. I saw my fianc?e signaling to me that lunch was ready. About time. The work was fairly easy, still I was more or less ready to take a break - I felt a little uncomfortable because my fianc?e's panties were a little tight around my private parts. Probably my fault, I should have worn the ones she had offered. They were nice, loose, full cut. But they were also made of satin, red satin, lavishly trimmed with black lace. Gratefully, I had rejected them and dug out a pair of plain, white cotton panties instead. The reason I was wearing her panties was that I was out of my own underwear. My fianc?e, Helen, had inherited a house, quite far away from where either one of us lived. We were going to take things slow, work on the house on weekends, then marry and move in when the house was ready. This was supposed to be the last of those weekends. Helen had just finished moving her stuff and we were going to get mine after the weekend. At that moment, I didn't have a job; Helen had applied for one in the area of our new home and left her present work, so we had some time on our hands. That was usually comfortable, because we never had to make any firm plans about coming or going, except for this time, kind of. I had expected we wouldn't stay long, so gave in to my great desire to travel light and packed clothes for only a few days. The weather was OK and the work was going along fine, so we decided to stay a bit longer. We had also just installed a washing machine so clothes shouldn't be a problem. Note the 'shouldn't be' and not 'weren't'. I forgot to turn on the water so the first load, our underwear, got completely ruined. For Helen, that wasn't such a problem, she lost only two pairs of panties and by then she had already moved all of her belongings to the house. As for me, before I pushed the 'start' button, I put in the shorts I was wearing at the time. Needless to say, all of my stuff was still in my apartment. But okay, that wasn't such a tragedy, we decided to go get my stuff the next day or so. Hence my discomfort in her underwear. "Hey," she called out from the kitchen when I entered the house, "how's the fence coming along?" "Fine," I replied, "just about done, as a matter of fact. All I have to do is to paint it. I even have the gate almost working." She came into the dining room, carrying a pot that steam was coming out of. "Smells good," I said. "Why thank you," she responded, "now go wash your hands." We washed the dishes together. "How are you enjoying your panties?" she teased me when we finished. I felt a little awkward. "Fine, I guess," I answered, wiping my hands in a tea towel, "a little tight, though." "Oh, that's a shame," she pouted, "are the mean panties squeezing your poor little willie?" I felt myself blushing. "What are we going to do about it?" she approached seductively. I shrugged. "Maybe I should put the other ones on." "You could do that," she purred, "or we could simply empty them a bit." "Huh?" She stuck her hand into my panties, groping my balls. I gulped. "Not much. Just so they'll fit." I smiled, felt myself growing in her hands. Pulled her closer and kissed her. Then she pulled my pants and we staggered to the living room, discarding an occasional item of clothing. We stumbled on a couch and proceeded to empty my panties as much as we could. "Okay now, enough lounging around, you've got work to do," she said when I was just about to fall asleep on the couch, lying beside her. Grumbling, I got up, looked around for my panties, pulled them on. Went to search for my pants, as she stopped me. "Let's see how good a job we've done," she said as I stood before her, wearing only a t-shirt and the panties. "Hmm, I don't know I can see your balls; they're all being squeezed out at the edges. Maybe you really should put the other ones on." I decided it was embarrassing enough as it was. "I should get back to work if I want to get the gate finished before dark," I said, pulled on my pants and rushed out. I was regretting it after a dozen steps, but not enough to go change. The dusk was just about done turning into darkness when I finished the work. I was pretty satisfied with what I had done with the gate, a little less satisfied with what I had managed to do to my clothes. Both the t- shirt and the pants were practically ripped to shreds. At first it was just a little tear in the t-shirt, but after further close contact with sharp edges (and falling down once or twice), the clothes were as good as gone. No real harm, just an old t-shirt and a tracksuit bottom, but as my stuff was back home, I didn't have much left to choose from. I should have considered myself lucky that I broke no bones. Helen couldn't believe her eyes when I walked through the living room. "What the hell happened out there, Ian? Did you get in a fight?" "Kind of," I replied, "that gate just wouldn't be brought to understand. You should see it now." "Oh," she said, evidently relieved, "you OK?" "I need a shower, but other than that, just Hunky Dory." Saying that I left the living room, headed to the bedroom. I always lay out my clothes before I take a shower or the underwear at least. For a moment I was going to lay my pants on the bed, but then I remembered the state they were in and just threw them in a corner, along with the t- shirt. I tossed my jeans on the bed (my only pants left) and the better one of the two t-shirts. Before leaving for the bathroom, I flung my panties beside them. When I returned, I noticed that my clothes were spread out nicely and that the panties I had worn were replaced by the red, frilly ones. Oh, what the hell, I thought and put them on. Except for the crotch, that was still pushing my balls forward a little; they sure were more comfortable than the last ones. They did look stupid, but the feel of cool satin against my buttocks and my privates... Dismissing the feelings of indulgence, I finished dressing myself. Just in time as well, as Helen came in. "That gate sure did a number on your clothes," she said coming through the door, "I guess we'd better go get your stuff tomorrow." "Are you really sure it'll all fit in your car?" I asked anxiously. "Look, we've been through this a million times. Yes, I'm sure. And even if it doesn't, I'll personally drive down there as many times as necessary to get all your numerous belongings. If I can't make it by the end of the month, I'll pay you the extra rent. It'll still be cheaper than calling the movers, which you've seen how effective they really are," she pointed at her outfit. That shut me up. Helen hired a moving company which managed to 'displace' a few of her boxes, containing, among other things, her 'comfortable' clothes, meaning clothes she usually wore at home, tracksuits, jeans and sneakers. They assured her they'd bring them as soon as they'd find them, at no additional cost (well, duh!), but in the meantime she had to work around the house in pantsuits and court shoes. She did look good in them, but that was hardly a substitute for lost convenience. As for my worries, I didn't own a lot of things, just the clothes, bunch of cds, an obsolete computer, some books and a small box of odd thingies souvenirs and such. She drove one of them big Volvos that really had a lot of space inside. And about who was going to drive - obviously her, since I didn't drive. I was going to get a permit at the time I met her, but seeing her drive discouraged me a great deal. I knew I could never muster the confidence she was radiating behind the wheel and? Call me selfish, but I grew to enjoy immensely being driven by her. Her driving skills seemed almost erotic to me. "You're right, dear, sorry," I apologized, "want some tea?" "Sure," she smiled. Later, I put down the tray on the coffee table in the living room and poured the tea. "Mmm," she hummed after the first sip, "now undo your pants." "Wha- why?" "You know," she mused, "let's see your new panties." "Look, they're the ones you laid out for me," I said dismissively, "Can I just sit down and drink the tea, please?" "By all means," she replied, "no need to get excited." "Oh, I don't know about that," I grinned mischievously. "Just what do you have in mind?" she pretended to be shocked, "does wearing frilly panties excite you?" I tried to object, but she kept going. "Are you some kind of a sissy?" She moved from her couch to the sofa I was sitting on, leaving me barely enough time to put my teacup down before she jumped me. "Let's just see exactly how excited you are," she said as she started tickling me. We struggled gigglingly for a few minutes, then I allowed her to finally pull my jeans down. These games usually made me excited and this time was no different. Quite the opposite, actually, as my fully erect penis was poking out from the elastic waistband. "Oh my god," she gasped, "You really are some kind of panty fetishist." "Please, Helen," I said, "stop it, it's embarrassing." She didn't let go. "Embarrassing? I'm the one who's embarrassed, I've just found out my man is a pervert who gets his rock off wearing sissy panties." "Come on, you know it's not the panties I'm excited about," I whined. "I know, I know," she said soothingly, "I'm just teasing you." "Good," I said, cupping her breast. She lowered herself on me. "All I wanted to say is that it's nice to see you're enjoying your panties so much, sissy." "I'll show you who's sissy," I said and another struggle broke out. After some time and a little help from her (her zipper was on the side, for crying out loud), I managed to get her pants off. "Well look here," I panted, pointing to the damp patch on her panties, "looks like men in panties turn you on; I guess it's you who's the pervert here." "Oh shut up, you sissy," she said. "Why don't you make me, you dyke," I replied, poking some more into her crotch. After yet more tickling and giggling, we ended up lying face to face, naked from our waists down. Slowly, I slid into her. The tea got cold before I could even drink the first cup. Reluctantly, I got up to take the tray back to the kitchen. "See," I said, pulling on my panties, "no excitement here." She gently felt my flaccid organ. "It's limp all right", she said, "limp as your wrist, sissy!" and playfully slapped my bottom. I rolled my eyes theatrically and took the tray, not bothering to put on my pants. When I returned, she was talking on her cell phone, walking around, as she usually did during phone talks. "... well yes, I suppose I could,... if it's really urgent...." She trailed out off my earshot. "Honey, I've got some news," she said, coming back. "Good news or bad news?" I asked. "Depends," she shrugged, "bit of both." I shot her an interrogating look. "They want me to come to work tomorrow," she said. "Tomorrow? But you weren't supposed to start till next week!" I cried, "What did you tell them?" "I said I'd be there," she replied, "What else should I do? They wouldn't call me unless it was urgent. They'll pay me plenty." "But what about..." I started. "I know, your stuff. It'll just have to wait, I'm sorry." "It's easy for you," I whined, "but I'm all out of clothes. I'm wearing your underwear, for Christ's sake!" "Just calm down, I'll try to at least get you some new clothes in town. We'll go to your place as soon as we can, I promise." I sat down on the couch, silently. She sat next to me. Put her hand around my shoulders. "Look. I know that this isn't easy on you, but for what it's worth - I really appreciate your efforts and your patience." I felt a warm glow inside of me. "Yeah well, I do what I can," I shrugged. "Besides, I can't see what you're complaining about," she said, "my panties look great on you." She was considerate enough not to wake me up as she left and I slept well into the late morning. Work kept me busy and I almost didn't notice how night fell. I whipped up a nice dinner but it got cold before she came home. When she did, she was dead on her feet. I'd never seen her so exhausted before, so I didn't even bother asking if she bought me anything. "Boy, they really meant it when they said it was urgent," she said, eating the reheated food, "I'm sorry honey, but I just couldn't get out of there before the shops closed. It's like a mad house at the company." "It's all right," I comforted her, "maybe I could go to town myself tomorrow?" "Don't be silly. We live in the middle of nowhere. I drive almost an hour to get there. Even if I dropped you off on my way to work, you'd waste the whole day to get back." "I guess you're right," I admitted, "I should probably paint the fence while the weather's dry." "There you go, I know I can always reason with you," she smiled, "can I ask you one little favor?" "Sure," I said, "shoot." "Run me a bath, then be a doll and look me out some clothes out of the boxes. I'm far too tired for that and if I leave it for the morning, I'll be late again." "Anything special you have in mind?" I asked her. "Something in blue, preferably darkish. Pants, skirt - doesn't matter, as long as it's suitable for the office and doesn't clash with these shoes. Keep it simple with the rest, white blouse, white undies. And pick a pair of panties for you, too," she said. After saying that she waited until her bath was ready then plunged into water at the perfectly right temperature and after washing the dishes, I started my search for her clothes. She had a heap of them. . Without exaggeration, her clothes made up for more than half of the load on the moving company trucks. Since we were busy with other things, they were still in boxes. As I found out minutes later, the boxes weren't particularly organized. Each box contained every kind of item. A little lingerie, some shoes, some blouses, some suits... In fact, she had put only her casual clothes in one box, and that had proved bad judgment as it got lost and so she was completely without them. I found a nice navy blue suit with a skirt that didn't seem too short (I was a bit jealous), a plain silk blouse and some white lingerie. Not really knowing what she'd want to put on, I just took it all with me to our bedroom (the boxes were in the numerous rooms that we kept as temporary storage rooms. It was a big house). "Found anything?" she called out of the bathroom. "Yeah," I answered, popping my head through the door, "wanna see?" "Sure." "Very good," she said when I showed her my pickings, "you did fine, sweetie. Let's see the undies." I held out the lingerie. "Well, I couldn't decide, so here's what I found in white." "How do you expect me to make out anything of it, Ian?" she said sounding aggravated, "show me each article separately." "Sorry, dear," I apologized and began the exhibition. Along with showing her the lingerie, she made sure I learned and remembered the names of each article. I had made a mistake bringing her so much - it took her ten minutes just to pick a pair of panties! "I don't know, let me see the teddies again," she instructed. I put away the merry widow corselet and held out the teddies. Again. "What do you think, dear?" she asked me. "I think the teddies are OK," I replied, tired of the whole business. "Yes, I suppose they are," she began, "but only if I'm wearing pantyhose, which I rather wouldn't... Here's what we'll do. I'll wear the merry widow and you'll fetch me some white stockings." I groaned. "But you've got five pairs of nylons here." "These are pantyhose, Ian," she answered impatiently, "which I don't want to wear for a whole day again as it's a bit warm in the office. That's why I need the stockings." "OK," I gave up, "I'll just take the clothes to the bedroom." "Wait," she said, "one more thing." "Yes?" I asked, turning around. "What did you pick out for yourself?" she grinned. "Nothing really," I shrugged, "I figured I'd wear something out of what I've shown you." "I'm not sure I want you wearing white tomorrow," she frowned, "why don't you go find yourself something in say... green? Or perhaps black? But not white." I couldn't believe my ears. What in the world did it matter to her what color the panties I was going to wear were? "You're kidding, right?" I asked. "Not at all," she said seriously. I sighed. I figured I'd give in to her strange whim, since I was already going to look for the stockings, I'd surely bump into some suitable panties. "Oh Ian?" she stopped me again. "Yes dear?" I replied, with my arms full of her clothes. "Could you please iron the suit and the blouse?" "What? Why?" "Because they're creased, that's why," she answered, impatiently again, "you've just taken them out of the box, what else did you expect?" "But what's the point?" I persisted, "you'll be wearing them forty five minutes in the car before you even enter the building. They'll be creased anyway." "Ian? Just do as I say, please," she ordered, "I think there's an ironing board somewhere in the room on the left of the hall." "Yes, dear," I capitulated, "but I'm not looking for any green panties," I added, turning on my heel. "Make sure you don't burn the blouse," she called out as I carefully closed the door behind me. She was sound asleep, of course, by the time I had finished with her clothes. I had put the lingerie she was going to wear on a chair (crammed the rest in a drawer) and after I had ironed them, hung out the clothes carefully in a closet, leaving the door open, making sure she'd find them the next morning and not wake me up for such trivial things. It turned out even if I might have not done it, it wouldn't have mattered. I woke to the sound of my buzzer (we each had our own alarm clock, with distinctive sound). My first thought was that she took mine, but slowly I realized that the clock was still on my side of the bed. Wearily I opened my eyes, turned the alarm off and felt a piece of paper under my fingers. A note from Helen. "Honey, I please be a dear - start the coffee maker for me and make me some breakfast. Eggs, toast, nothing much. I'll find it most helpful. Kisses, H." Kisses indeed. I looked at her and she was still blissfully asleep. In a hostile mood, I got up, got dressed, cursing the panties under my breath (though enjoying their soft touch nonetheless) and went to do her bidding. Stumbling through the kitchen, I absent mindedly worked on a short speech of discontentment I'd deliver to her when she'd wake up. "Still not finished?" she asked when she finally came to the dinning room. "Just about," I called out from the kitchen. "Well if I'd known you'd take this long, I'd set your timer for ten minutes earlier," she said. "Sorry dear," I apologized, bringing her coffee. "Mmmm. Never mind, you'll do better next time, I'm sure," she replied. After she had left, I decided to catch up some sleep. I woke up a bit too late again, so I hurried off to paint the fence. It was a good day for doing so and I didn't want to let it go to waste. The weather hadn't proved itself reliable in the past and without the commodity of television or even a radio to follow the forecasts, my guess about the next day's weather was as good as anyone's. Helen called me late in the afternoon. "Hi, honey, how you're doing?" "Fine. Painted the fence," I boasted. "Really? That's great. Maybe I'll bring you something special," she said. "Oh my god!" I exclaimed, "You're getting me clothes." "No, sorry, not this time, I'm stuck here for two more hours at least." My hopes sank. "Oh." "What I'm calling you for is this: anything special you need from the store, groceries-wise?" "Huh? I thought you said you weren't leaving." "I'm not. One of the couriers is being nice enough and offered to hop downstairs for me." "Could you get her to hop and get me some shorts?" I asked. "Stop it, Ian, please," she silenced me, "firstly, it's a he. And I can't take advantage of him like that. The grocery store is just around the corner whereas the mall is quite far away. So. What do we need?" "Nothing special," I said, "the usual. We're out of eggs, and all the other stuff is running short, too. Everything, I guess." "Okay. I'll try to get home sooner than yesterday, but don't bother with anything fancy for dinner." "I Won't. Bye, dear." "Bye, honey. See you." Just when I put down the phone I noticed a strange sensation on my legs. I had an itch on my left thigh that day so I didn't pay any attention until it was too late. Cleaning the brushes, I had managed to sprinkle what turned out to be a very aggressive paint thinner all over myself. By the time I noticed it, it had eaten through my jeans and was beginning to irritate my skin. In a one swift move, I ripped (quite literally) the clothes off me and ran to the shower. Miraculously, again, my skin was more or less OK, but the clothes were ruined. The jeans were eaten through and torn at the crotch, the t-shirt was in a similar state. The sneakers, which weren't exactly in mint condition to begin with, had recieved their final blow, taking down with them my socks. The only thing left undamaged were the white satin panties I had put on that morning. Sighing, I put them on and went to the storage room. I found a dark grey pair of her pants that fit me OK. Maybe a bit long, but the zipper was in the front so I decided to wear them for what was left of the day. Helen and I were almost the same size. Usually she appeared taller on account of the high heels, but without them, I think I had a good quarter of an inch on her. Not really believing any of her shoes would fit me, I rolled up the pant legs and went barefoot to our bedroom to put on my t-shirt, my only article of clothing left. Fortunately, the fence was the last of the work outside the house. Even though almost no-one passed by, I wouldn't feel comfortable being seen wearing women's pants. Not to mention I had no shoes. I poured myself a drink and sat down for a while to gather my thoughts. Nothing tragic, I thought, since Helen was going to the shops any day now, she'd just pick up a pair of jeans along with the other clothes and by the end of the week, we'd go to my place and get all of my stuff. Feeling better, I went on with my chores. I was folding up the lingerie I had dumped in the drawer the night before, so I didn't hear her come in. She startled me in the bedroom. "Hello!" she yelled happily. "Oh, hi," I said, walking towards her, "you scared me." We kissed and hugged. With me walking barefoot and her in her shoes, she stood two inches taller. "What gives, shorty," she teased me, "why are you wearing my pants?" I explained to her what had happened. She looked worried. "Show me your legs," she said. I dropped my (or her) pants. I hadn't noticed them before, but I had plenty of red stains where the thinner had eaten through the jeans, some on my belly, too, plus the rash from before. "Oh dear. Maybe I should get you to a hospital?" "I don't think so," I replied, "I don't even feel them. Maybe we should wait at least until tomorrow." "Maybe," she said, but didn't seem convinced. I didn't want to admit it, but I really didn't feel like seeing a doctor, wearing women's pants and panties. I decided to change the subject. "You hungry? I made some sandwiches, if you want them," I offered. "Sure," she replied and we went downstairs. Despite the simplicity, the meal turned out an all-around success - she found them delicious and there weren't any pots and pans for me to wash up. "You know, you should dig out some aprons from the boxes," she said after we had finished eating, "I don't want you ruining my clothes like you do yours." "I guess," I shrugged, "but I'm not wearing your clothes for much longer, am I?" She looked at me with an apologetic expression. "Sorry honey, but I can't really say. I asked around today, the mall is almost as far away from the company as our house and all the other shops in town, which aren't in the immediate vicinity either, close early. Like I said, I will try to do it as soon as possible, but I can't say when that'll be." That didn't sound so great to me, but I didn't want to burden her. I felt she had enough worries as it was. "Eh, don't worry about it," I waved dismissingly, "I'm fine. I mean, all the work outside the house is done, I guess I can wear your pants around the house, nobody will see me." "That's sweet, honey, thanks for being so reasonable," she cooed. "Hey, no problem," I replied as modestly as I could, hurrying to pick up the plates. I think I felt myself blushing. "Come here a bit," she said when I came back, "let's see how those pants fit you." "They're OK," I said. "Hmm, I don't like you stepping over them," she muttered looking at my feet. They just wouldn't keep rolled up. "Maybe I could hold them in place with a couple of clothespins," I proposed. "Don't be silly," she rejected my idea, "they're only maybe half an inch too long. You just need some shoes." "I don't have any shoes here," I blurted out. "I know, I was thinking of my shoes." "Huh?" I though for a second she was joking, but then realized she wasn't, "I can't wear your shoes." "Why not?" she asked. "Well for one thing, they probably won't fit me. And even if they did, I suppose I could wear the shoes like those that the movers lost, but not like these," I said, pointing at her shoes. "Don't worry about the size," she replied, "I'm sure my shoes will fit you." "What makes you so sure?" I asked. "I know we have the same size. I've worn yours a couple of times." "Like when?" "When you weren't looking. Now, if you need further proof," she took off her shoe and put it on my foot, "see. A perfect fit." I couldn't deny. The shoe really fit me perfectly. I expected to be at least a bit too narrow, if it had to be long enough, but no. As if it was my own. "Aren't you glad for once you have dainty feet?" she asked. "I'll show you dainty feet!" I said hoping to sound threatening. "You already have," she responded calmly, "give me the other foot." I stood before her in her shoes. The heels made it a strange experience. I felt somewhat embarrassed (then again, I was already wearing her clothes), on the other hand, it felt nice to be two inches taller. "See," she pointed at the hem of the pants, "not stepping over them at all." "I'm not sure I can walk in them," I complained. "Don't underestimate yourself. But anyway, let's go find you some flats." I wobbled beside her as we walked to the storage rooms. Well, wobbled may not be the best word. I did have difficulty walking, almost tripped a few times at first, but after I mastered the stairs (walking only on the tips of my feet) I gained some confidence and paced on with a fair rate and stability. "See, you're getting the hang of it," she said, opening the door, and added quietly, "sissy." "I heard that," I said. "Heard what?" She opened one box and rummaged through it. "Hmmm, no, no... not quite,... how about these?" She pulled out a pair of burgundy red patent leather with an at least three inch spiked heel. "You've got to be joking," I said. "Never satisfied. Fine, I'll wear them then. Along with these." She handed me a bunch of black fabric (a pantsuit, as I realized holding it out) and moments later a red blouse. Kept quietly digging until she found something. "Perfect," she said, "I want you to wear these tomorrow." She flung a pair of purple satin panties at me and returned to her search. I used the time to examine my lingerie for the next day. Although I'd never have thought it possible, they were even frillier than the red ones I'd worn before. They even had elasticized leg openings (lined with ridiculous amounts of lace, naturally). I sighed loudly enough so that she'd hear, but I knew I'd enjoy wearing them very much. "Oh, here we are," she said finally. Straightened up and showed me a pair of beige court shoes. Put them on. "What do you think?" she said, clicking her heels. They seemed OK to me, no high heel at all, maybe just over half an inch. "Fine, I guess, but isn't it me that's supposed to be wearing them?" "Well, you've already got some shoes, but OK, if you want to..." "Just hand 'em over," I said, taking off my shoes. "Here." I put them on and she put on the ones I'd worn. "You could use another half of inch of heel, but I suppose they'll do," she said after inspecting the hem of my pants, "that is if you really want them." "Why not?" I asked. "I thought maybe you'd to use the opportunity to be finally taller than me," she replied. "What are you talking about, I am taller than you." "Oh yeah?" she asked, stepping in front of me. "Yeah," I retorted, "you're just cheating with the shoes." "Silly," she kissed me on the forehead. I hugged her. "Well, if you really want to remain short, it's your choice, I guess," she said, "I'm just not too happy about the color." "They'll do," I assured her. "If you say so. Let's go to bed." "Don't you want me to iron your clothes?" I asked, biting my tongue a moment later. "Nah," she said, "it's fine. Just hang them out like you did yesterday." I hung her clothes, and folded some lingerie she had also given me, this time black. I was still dressed when she came out from the shower. "I forgot to tell you," she said, discarding her towel and revealing her gorgeous body to me. She opened the lingerie drawer and took out a pair of black nylon stockings, "wear these with the shoes." I was aware that my attire was as masculine as it would get for some time, still I didn't think I needed to overdo on the femininity. "Do I need to? It's not cold, I can go without. I mean, I was barefoot today and it was fine." "It's not a matter of warmth but of hygiene," she replied. "Can't I at least wear cotton socks?" I asked. "You think, for the past week, that I'd be wearing nylons if I had cotton socks?" she said, "they're in the lost boxes." "But I've seen you wear shoes without them," I complained. "Those were sandals," she replied patiently, "if you think you can find any, good luck. Most of them are with the cotton socks, those that are in the house, I don't think you'll enjoy, seeing how you avoid high heels." "Okay," I gave in. "Come on, it's not so bad," she comforted me, "take off your shoes, I'll show you how to put them on." "I think I know how to dress myself," I protested, but did what she said anyway. "Sure you do," she said, "now look. You gather the stocking in your palm like this, and then you just roll it up your leg. If you pull it on, you'll cause a run in it. Now you try." Although lacking the practice she had, I managed to do a decent job. The stockings proved to be only knee high, which she pointed out immediately. "See, they're not even full length. And if they still bother you, you can let them slide down to your ankles," she said. Unrolling my pant legs, I decided she was right about not being so bad. Went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. She was in bed when I returned, and not naked anymore, as I was disappointed to find out. Still, I tried to instigate a little lovemaking by groping her behind. She replied with a smothering hug that pushed me off her. "Not tonight, honey, we've got to get up early tomorrow," she said, "goodnight." "Goodnight," I replied, wondering about whatever she meant by 'we'. I remembered moments before falling asleep. My t-shirt was, as I said, well worn and sported a few stains that had refused to come out during the last few washes. On top of all that, I was a little clumsy frying Helen's (OK, mine as well) eggs and added some oil stains into the already rich collection. "Seriously, Ian, you should put on an apron, I don't want you ruining my clothes like you do yours," she said. "I thought they were in the lost boxes," I protested. "Only the normal ones," she replied, "I packed the frilly stuff among my clothes." "Thought you hated them." "I do. But I didn't want to leave them behind for my mother to find out. I don't really think she thinks I wear them, but not taking them with me would really set her off. Good thing I did, though." I shrugged my shoulders; I didn't quite share her enthusiasm. She didn't seem to notice. "And when you go dig them out, find yourself another shirt," she continued. "What's wrong with this one?" I asked. "It's filthy," she replied, "and smelly." "It's not smelly," I said, "I was going to wash it, anyway, and let it dry during the night." "Honey, if you wash this t-shirt one more time," she said, "it will disintegrate. Just look at it." She was right; the seams were a little loose. "Okay, I'll change," I gave in. "There's a sweetheart," she replied cheerfully, "off you go, chop-chop." "What, now?" "Why not?" "I've got the plates to clean and it'll probably take forever to find anything useful so you'd be late for work if you waited for me, which you probably would," I explained. "Eh, you're right," she said disillusioned, "but I want you in a fresh shirt when I come home." "Ironed too, I presume, madam?" I added sarcastically. She didn't get it, though. "Sure," she said, "now that you've mentioned it, that wouldn't be so bad." Me and my big mouth. Even though the work I did through the day didn't really require me to wear an apron, I improvised one by tucking a kitchen cloth into the waistband of my pants. It covered my front and some of my hips. It turned out to be very useful, as I got sloppy with my lunch. The t-shirt got the most damage, but some stains appeared on the cloth as well. Carefully, I examined the pants - they were clean, thank God - and decided that it was time to get some real aprons. Going through the boxes, I almost instantly found a suitable shirt for me. A simple, almost unisex, pale blue short sleeved cotton blouse. It was a huge relief since I had prepared myself mentally to find nothing but feminine silk garments. I didn't have such luck with the aprons, though. There were a lot of them, but all of them were frilly, gauzy pieces that seemed ornamental rather than practical clothing. Still, I chose two of them. One that reached only up to the waist or so and one full. The first one was made of sheer nylon, dark green with gold trim. The other was at least made out of cotton, but that didn't help much. It almost looked like a sleeveless dress. The blue flowery print made it go well with the shirt, however. Handling the longer apron, I fantasized about Helen wearing it with nothing underneath, which got me randy. Although I knew that nothing would happen again that night, I happily indulged in the fantasy while I ironed my shirt. Helen found the shirt 'most becoming' although she scolded me a little for not wearing the apron when she found me spreading the tablecloth. I tried to argue that it wasn't necessary, but to no avail. She even had me wearing it (the blue one) while I ironed her clothes. There was no action that night, but I did manage to snuggle a bit when she was checking my panties. The next few days passed more or less the same way. My work kept me busy and her work kept her from buying me clothes. She stopped bothering me about the panties I wore but not before I had learned to swallow a piece of my male pride and enjoy the soft touches of silk and satin. As sex was still off the menu more and more often the slithering of silky material aroused me to a nice warm hard on. Things seemed pretty stable until... "Hello?" I answered the phone. "Hi, honey," she greeted me, "I've got something for you?" "Don't tell me you've finally bought me some decent clothes?" I asked. "Even better. I'm bringing you a friend to play with." "Huh?" "A coworker's car broke down and I'm bringing her home. She'll spend the night," she answered. It took about a second before I realized just what that meant. "But honey, she can't see me like this, the way I'm dressed," I said. "Why not?" she snapped, and then explained more emphatically, "look, I'm sorry about this, but we're the only ones at the office, her car won't start and it won't be fixed until tomorrow afternoon. I can't just leave her here only because you're too shy to be seen in clothes that could as well be marked as unisex." "You're right, dear. I'm just a little nervous, that's all," I almost apologized. "I wouldn't be bringing her to our home if she wasn't someone I could trust not to take this the wrong way. I'll explain your entire situation on the way home and make her promise she won't tease you for wearing girls pants, OK?" "OK." "Good. Now be a dear and make a bed in one of the rooms you've tidied up. Bye." After setting the bed, I examined my clothes. The pants weren't the only thing I was worried about - I wasn't wearing the blue shirt anymore (Helen made me change it the previous day). Instead, I was wearing a slightly more feminine one. It was still made of cotton (though much smoother), but it was of pale orange color with a pastel flower print, with pearly buttons. I wore a jacket (that matched the pants) over it, but the wide collar made sure the shirt was noticed. Although I knew I'd get some stern looks from Helen, I decided to save some face and not to wear the apron. At least not when they arrived. Helen was considerate enough to ring the doorbell (which I had installed two days ago) before they came in. Fortunately for me - I got so engrossed by setting the table that I completely forgot about taking off the apron. Quickly, I untied the knot, threw it on the kitchen counter and hesitatingly walked to greet them. "Ian, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is Ian," Helen introduced us. "Hello," Natalie said, "Helen told me so much about you. She's very lucky to have you." I managed a well controlled "Thank you," but felt myself blushing feverishly. We sat down, ate dinner, and had a few drinks. I had just enough to get a little warm, so I took off my jacket. "My, what a lovely blouse," Natalie complimented me, "I bet your lingerie must be just as spectacular." "I make sure of that," Helen said. I blushed again. "Could you show me?" Natalie asked, faking bashfulness. "I can't show you my panties," I replied awkwardly, blushing again as I uttered the word 'panties'. I could think of a better one. "Of course not," she said, "I couldn't possibly ask you that. Not with Helen around, anyway. Just a little of your camisole." "I'm not wearing a camisole," I said dumbly. "You're not?" she appeared shocked, "well, you should." "Why?" "You wear shirts sometimes, don't you?" she asked. "Yeah, I do." "And what do you wear underneath them?" "Depends. T-shirt, or a vest, but rarely," I answered. "You see?" she said victoriously, "when you wear a men's shirt, you wear it with a vest. When you wear a woman's blouse, you wear it with a nice camisole." I just stared at her, trying to figure out just why I'd let myself get involved into this kind of an argument. She kept on going. "And another thing. Show me your leg." "Huh?" "Just stretch out your left right leg," she said, "I want to see something." She took hold of my ankle and rolled back my pant leg. "Just as I thought," She muttered, then let my leg go and looked me in the eye again, "You should also shave your legs." I chuckled, pretty sure she was joking, "Yeah right." "No, I mean it," she said, "Look, you've got hair sticking out everywhere." Saying that, she leaned to me and pulled out a hair that was sticking out of the lowish neckline of my blouse. "Ouch!" I yelped. This was really getting out of hand. I looked at Helen, hoping she might say something in my defense, but she just watched us, amused. "See, if you had taken care of this before, I couldn't do that now," Natalie added another reason to her point. I breathed deeply and thought for a second. "I'm not wearing these clothes because I want to," I began saying slowly, "I'm wearing them because all my clothes are gone. And it's only temporary." "Temporary or not, you're stuck with them. As long as you wear them," she went on, "you should wear them properly. Honor them a little." "But I'm telling you, it's not my choice to wear them," I tried to explain. I just couldn't seem to make her understand. "You know, every woman in the world could say that," she replied. "What do you mean?" I asked. "A woman doesn't choose the fashion habits of the world she's born into. It's not her choice to wear women's clothes. It's an obligation. It doesn't matter if I and Helen like wearing what we're wearing. It's the office dress code, we have to. And you think we enjoy waxing our legs?" she asked rhetorically, "hell no. It hurts. But we do it because the clothes we wear require us to." The authority of this frail looking woman discouraged me. "But I'm not a woman," I said in a desperate attempt to oppose her point. "Being a woman has nothing to do about it," she wasn't distracted, "if nylon stockings were worn by men, they'd also have to depilate, because otherwise it would just look plain ugly." I gave up. "Helen, help me out here," I pleaded, but Helen just laughed at my distress. "Come on, honey, come with me," she said, leading me out of the room. Natalie glowed triumphantly. "But..." I almost whined as she closed the living room door behind us. "Shush, dear. You should know better than to argue with a guest," she said. "I'm sorry, but she was saying absurd things, you heard her." "Well, I can't really agree with you," she answered, "even though you don't wear my clothes by choice, you should wear them properly." "Okay," I said, "I'll put on a camisole." "It's not just the camisole," she said and opened the bathroom door. "What's on your mind?" I asked coldly. "I think you know," she replied and started undressing me. "Please honey, please don't make me do this," I pleaded, almost crying. "I'm not making you do anything," she replied calmly, "and it will be good for your rash. It's the roots of your hair that are irritated. It will do your skin good to take your body hair off. Take the rest of your clothes off." I finished undressing myself as she handed me a jar. "Apply this to your legs, chest and underarms," she said, "Rinse it off when I tell you to. I'll go find some clothes for Natalie and me. You want anything?" I chose to disregard her last question and stepped into the bathtub. "...just a fresh pair of panties and maybe a blouse..." Natalie's voice faded out along with the footsteps as they passed through the corridor. I didn't hear them talk on their way back. "You can rinse now," Helen yelled through the closed door, "and use my shower gel, it's better for your skin." "We've laid out some new clothes for you," Natalie added. As I got out of the tub, I noticed that my clothes were gone. I wrapped a towel around me and went to our bedroom. A new set of clothes was laid out for me. A pale blue pantsuit, a white sheer silk blouse and a set of undies. At least she didn't impose her usual choice of colors on me, as the silk panties and camisole were white. Along with them came a pair of white full length stockings. And shoes. White, with a heel that was considerably higher than of those that I had worn before. It wasn't very high, less than two inches, but it was plainly obvious that these were women's shoes. For a moment I hoped that these were the clothes Helen chose for herself and looked around the room for anything that might prove I was right. Instead, I found a dark grey suit with a skirt hanging in the closet and decided that the clothes on the bed weren't that feminine. Reluctantly, I put on the panties. Being reminded again just how much I enjoyed the silky touches, I slid on the camisole. I shivered in delight as the cool silk touched my skin. It got even better when I put on the blouse. The billowy sleeves seemed to flow down my arms right from the padded shoulders and the soft collar gently caressed my neck. I swallowed hard and reached for the stockings. They felt so nice against my smooth legs and it felt even better when I felt the soft fabric of the pants slide over them. Even my private parts began responding with a warm feeling of my thickening penis, but when I realized that the pants had a side zipper, an unpleasant feeling kicked in I started feeling guilt in over indulging in delights of woman's clothes. Or being excited by wearing them. Hastily, I grabbed the jacket and headed to the living room. The house she had inherited was really big, and so the walk from the bedroom to the living room was pretty long. Long enough that my stockings slid down to my knees. I tried to pull them up through my pants various times while walking, but saw that it just didn't work. Gave up and stopped before opening the door. I dropped my pants, pulled up my stockings, pulled my pants back on, tucked my blouse in, straightened out the collar of my jacket and walked in, slowly, full of anxiety. "Hello, good lookin'!" Natalie greeted me from the table. "Whatcha got cookin?" Helen added and they broke into series of hysterical giggles. Of course - while the shower sobered me up somewhat, they hadn't been wasting time and proceeded to get tipsy. None of this helped my already shattered confidence. "I'll just clean this up," I said, began picking up dishes from the table After they had finally got a grip of themselves, Natalie followed me to the kitchen, carrying some cutlery. "I'm sorry about that, we weren't laughing at you," she began. "It's OK," I sad coldly, not really wanting to get involved into another argument with her. I let the water run and proceeded to put on my apron. The blue one was nowhere to be found, instead there was a new one, a white sheer cotton flounced creation. Knowing it would be futile to ask where the old one was, I put it on. "Let me tie that up for you," Natalie proposed. I didn't really need any help, especially not from her, but she didn't wait for me to let her. "There, two nice bows," she said as she finished, "aren't you going to thank me?" "Thanks," I muttered. "No problem," she replied, patting me on the ass. I looked at her. Just by looks, she seemed harmless. A nice woman, slim, even smaller than me (especially with my new shoes). I couldn't understand why I let her do what she was doing to me. "This is all great fun for you, isn't it?" I said, plunging the first plate into the water. "Sure. I thought you were having fun as well," she replied cheerfully. "Not really," I answered bitterly. She paused for a moment. "Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I really wasn't trying to have fun at your expense. As a matter of fact, I respect you very much, how you volunteer to help Helen out with this situation. We've got a real crisis at work, and it helps her a lot that she at least doesn't have to worry about her house. I mean, she has enough money to hire somebody to fix this place up, but that's a lot of hassle also. And how you don't raise any fuss over your clothes... I know I can't even dream to find a husband like that. Every other men I know would stamp his foot down and refuse to do anything until he got his way, but you, you're so... understanding. So if I've hurt your feeling today, I want you to know that what I feel for you the strongest is admiration, not scorn." She rubbed my shoulder. "Are we friends again?" she asked. "Sure," I answered. "How about a hug?" she said. I wiped my hands and turned to her. I had barely opened my arms when she pressed herself to me. I closed them around her, patting her back, while for her, it was obviously more than a friendly hug. Her hands were running all around my back until they finally settled under my apron's skirts on my ass. "I'm so glad we've had this talk," she said brightly, kissed me on the cheek and left me with my work. "Hey," I said as I finally came back to the living room, "what did I miss?" "Not much, just womanly chatter," Helen replied, "but do I see lipstick on your cheek? What did I miss? What were you two doing in the kitchen?" "We've just had a little conversation," Natalie replied, "isn't that right, Ian?" "Sure," I said, sitting down. I poured myself a glass of wine. I felt the warm glow spread all over my body immediately with the first sip. I leaned back, unbuttoned my jacket and took some more sips. "So, honey, how do your clothes feel now?" Helen asked, rubbing my chest through the layers of silk I was wearing. "I have to admit, they are quite comfortable," I said, feeling a lot more relaxed about the issue (not as much from Natalie's talk than the wine). Maybe a bit too relaxed. "Aren't they?" Natalie said. "Yeah, even the shoes are," I added. "It's good to have a bit of a heel," Helen said, taking my foot in her hand and pushing the hem of the pant leg upwards. "Look at how smooth his legs are," she said to Natalie. "Stand up," Natalie said to me, "let's have a good look." I didn't really want to, but Helen took my hand and 'helped' me up. They gathered about me, inspecting my clothes like I was a dress maker's model. Helen buttoned up my jacket. "Looks good on him, doesn't it?" she spoke to Natalie, "not even a bit tight around his waist." "Yes," Natalie answered, unbuttoned the jacket and the first few buttons of my blouse, "and the camisole fits well, too." Despite the embarrassment, I was also enjoying the attention I was getting and the feel of their fingers checking the fit of the clothes. "The pants aren't bad either," Helen said, hooking her finger in my waistline. I felt I was starting to get an erection. "And he fills them out quite well," Natalie added, patting my behind. Helen squatted and lifted my pant leg again. "My, look at those smooth legs," she said. "Mmm," Natalie purred, bending down at the other leg, running her hands over it, "and so shapely too." She kept caressing the leg higher and higher until she reached the bottom again. "You should wear something shorter, to show them off," she said to me. "How do the stockings feel with your hair gone, honey?" Helen asked me. "Much better," I admitted, "but they keep sliding down all the time." "I have just the perfect solution for that," Natalie beamed, "let's go find you a garter belt." "Nah," Helen said, "he's had enough embarrassment for a day." "Embarrassment? What are you talking about?" Natalie said, obviously shocked, "I thought at least you understood what I was saying." "I understand," Helen tried to calm her down, "but look at this from his point of view. His fianc?e and her friend make him shave his legs then wear stockings and heels... Sure, it's appropriate for the clothes he wears, but embarrassing none the less." "Okay," Natalie said with a disappointed voice, "I guess you're right." "Good. It's getting late anyway," Helen answered, "let's go to bed." Closing the bedroom door behind us, I pulled her close to me. Her shoes had higher heels than mine, so she stood an inch above me. "What do you want, shorty?" she asked gigglingly. "I want you," I breathed. "What a coincidence," she replied, wrapping her left arm around my waist and tilting my head a little backwards with her right arm, "I want you too." We kissed feverishly. Hands were everywhere. I tried to take her skirt off, but couldn't, so I just raised it up to her waist. She, on the other hand, had no trouble unzipping my pants. I reciprocated by hobbling her with at least her panties. With our legs tied by our clothes and our bodies glued together by our passion, we somehow managed to get to the bed. She rolled on her back and I jumped on her, sliding into her almost instantly. The sex that followed was short, but frantic. After I rolled off her, I noticed I still had my pants and panties around my ankles, and my shoes and stockings on. Taking them off, I snuggled under the blankets. She pulled the covers off me. "Hey!" I protested. "You didn't put on your pajamas," she said. "I don't have any." "Of course not, but you can borrow some of mine." "I don't need them, anyway." "Maybe you didn't need them until now, but now that you're all soft and smooth, you should wear some nice jammies." "Oh, give it a rest," I said, stretching my hand out for the blankets. "Put 'em on!" she said, giving me a sharp slap on my behind. "Ow!" I yepled, "okay, okay, I'll put them on." "There's my honey," she smiled as she handed them to me. They weren't that bad. Basically a feminine imitation of the man's pajamas. They were made of cream colored silk with chocolate-brown trimmings. In contrast to her nightgown, they looked even better. "Come on, let's go brush our teeth," she said as I put them on. Along with the clothes, she had brought in two pairs of slippers. She chose the ones with the lower heel. "See, I'll even let you be the taller one this time," she said. Back in bed, I couldn't lie to myself about not liking the pajamas, and the feel of her warm body next to mine was even better. I snuggled as close into her as I could and after some loving caresses, we made love again. This time it was much more relaxed and slower that the last time. She got on top of me and gently rode me for what seemed an eternity. After our silent, yet strong, climax she pulled my pajama bottom back into place and lay beside me. I slept like a baby. "Honey, wake up, hear me? Wake up, you're late." "Huh?" Why was I late? Maybe I overheard my buzzer. I rolled on my back and tried hard to open my eyes. Eventually I was able to see Helen bending over me and shaking me. "I forgot to set your timer. Get up and make us some breakfast, we have to leave in thirty minutes," she said. I grumbled, but got out of bed anyway. Half looked and half felt for my clothes and pulled my pajama top off. "What are you doing?" she asked nervously. "Whu- getting dressed, why?" I replied groggily. "No time for that, just go in pajamas, you'll get dressed later," she said. "But I don't want her to see me like this," I protested. "Like what? In these pajamas, you mean?" I nodded. "Oh, for Christ's sakes, she's the one that chose them for you. Just put a robe over them and you're ready." I was too sleepy to get into an argument about anything. I followed her to the bathroom where she handed me a white terry cloth robe. With nice big sleeves and a round collar. Went back to the bedroom to put on some slippers. I opted for the ones she wore last night, that hand hardly any heel, but obviously she was still watching me. "Wear your own slippers," she called out from the bathroom door. Thinking that maybe this whole thing was a dream, I slid my feet into them and hurried to the kitchen. Well, I hurried as much as I could. The three inch heels of my slippers cut down my pace considerably. "Good morning," Natalie greeted me. She was already dressed, in her skirt and jacket with a fresh blouse. "Hey," I yawned, leaning on the kitchen desk, "sleep well?" "Mhmm," she purred, "marvelously. The bed is sooo soft. But how about you? How are your new pajamas?" "They're okay," I answered, not wanting to explore the subject any further. She wouldn't let go, however. "You like them? I chose them for you, you know." "I know," I said, "thank you for your attention." "Oh, it's nothing. But I would like to see them." Reluctantly, I turned away from the coffee maker and faced her. Even though I dwarfed her in my high heels, I didn't feel half as tall as her when she reached to untie the belt of my robe. I tried to stop her but she silenced me with a raised index finger and pulled at the ribbon. My robe fell open. She took hold of the sides and held them wide apart. "Hold it like this," she said and stepped even closer, pretending to examine my nightwear by running her palm all over my body. "So soft, so silky," she said, now practically hugging me, only her hands were on my behind (where else?). "Please don't do this," I said weakly, but not moving away from her, fully aware that my erect penis was poking into her belly. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked innocently, looking me up in my eyes. I nodded. "Okay," she said, taking a step back, dropping one hand and resting the other on my hip, "though if you ask me, you seem pretty comfortable." Saying that, she enveloped her fingers around the base of my penis and slid them quickly over the tip. Blushing furiously, I wrapped the robe around me as tight as I could. She merrily walked out of the kitchen, winking at me over her shoulder. After they had left for work, I jumped into the shower and tried to get some sleep. I couldn't, though, so I got up to get some work done. I put on the clothes that I had worn the evening before (including the camisole and the stockings), except for the shoes. I didn't feel like putting the ones with heels on, but I couldn't find the ones I had worn before, so I decided to wear Helen's slippers. I had to roll up the pants a little, but the fabric seemed stiff enough not to roll back down. Not after long my stockings slid down again. At first I wanted to swap them for some knee-highs, but then I had another idea. I found a suitable garter belt in Helen's (or should I say our) lingerie drawer. Dropped my pants, struggled a little to get it around my waist, attached its tabs to the stockings, put my pants back on, took a few steps, stretching my legs out exaggeratedly. The feel of the straps on my legs was strange, but not unpleasant. I sat down on the bed, crossed my legs, got up again. Just for fun, I kicked off my slippers and put on my shoes from the last night then went on with my work. "What did you do with the clothes?" Helen asked me as I came from the kitchen after I had washed the dishes from the dinner. "I ironed that navy suit like you asked me to, and you've got some blouses hanging in the closet, too," I replied, taking off my apron. "Thanks," she said, "how about you?" "How about me what?" "You don't have to wear the same clothes all the time, you know." "Oh that," I said, "I don't mind, really." "Well, I do. I want to see you in something else tomorrow, okay?" I shrugged and didn't bother to meddle with this issue any further. She, on the other hand, wasn't going to let go. "So you really meant when you said you'll put on something different tomorrow, right?" she began as we were walking towards the bedroom, our heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "Sure," I replied, "I'll put on a new blouse if it means so much to you." She stopped, pulled me by the hand so that I stopped, too, looked me in the eyes, held me by my shoulders (quite strongly, actually). "Not just the blouse," she said, "the whole outfit. I mean it." I was a little startled by her strength. "Fine, how about the suit you wore the day before yesterday?" I shouldn't have asked that. "No, actually, I want you to go find something out of the boxes," she said, shaking me fleetingly for a few times, "if I like what you find I'll wear it myself the next day. So find me something nice, okay?" "Okay, okay," I said impatiently, trying to shake off her grip, "whatever you say. Can we please go to bed now?" "Sorry. Don't get your panties in a twist," she replied and we started walking again, neither of us saying anything. I meant to tell her just where she could shove her new whole outfits, but by the time we reached the bedroom, my anger mellowed out. "I'm sorry I snapped at you before, honey," I began to apologize, "it's just that I can't leave the house and that makes me kind of edgy." "I don't blame you," she said, "I guess I'd be as edgy as you if I was trapped here." "If I only had some men's clothes," I began. "Oh, for Christ's sakes, Ian, how many times do I have to tell you? I'll get them when I have the time," now she snapped. "I'm sorry, I just said -" I tried to calm her down. "It's not just the clothes, anyway," she said, having quickly calmed down by herself, "even if you could go out, where would you go to?" She had a point. I shrugged. "See?" she went on, "and these clothes really look good on you." She unbuttoned my jacket and I reciprocated. We kissed, her fingers were fiddling with the top buttons of my blouse. I gently pushed her hands away, took off her jacket and nibbled on her neck a little. She held me by my hips and started to slowly pull my blouse of from my pants. I reached for her breast but then suddenly remembered that I was wearing a garter belt and didn't really want her to know about it. I wrenched out of her embrace. "I'll be right back," I said and rushed off to the bathroom, returning completely naked. She gave me a strange look as she brushed past me at the door, dressed in her knee length silk nightgown, but said nothing. "Can I at least wear the same pajamas?" I asked when she came back. "Sure," she laughed, crawling to bed, "I'll let you keep them if you really like them so much." I blushed a little (but the lights were out so she couldn't see) and hugged her. "You do like them, don't you?" she teased me. I kissed her, but she turned away. "Well, don't you?" she said again. "Mhm," I muttered and tried to kiss her again. She backed away and pushed me on my back. "Say it," she said, leaning over me. "Okay," I gave in, "I like them." "Like wearing girls' pajamas? Oh you sissy." "Hey!" I said, "I'll show you who's a sissy!" I tried to roll on top of her, but she kept pressing me into the bed. I had to struggle hard just to get her off me! After some panting, giggling and rolling around, we wound up lying on our sides facing each other. "But seriously," she panted, "all I'm trying to do is to help you enjoy more the clothes you're stuck with, not to embarrass you. Okay?" "Okay," I nodded. "Good," she said and turned away. I caressed her right side and back for a while, but gave up eventually and turned away disappointed. Not much later, I felt her turn. I wanted to turn around as well, instead I let my offended pride make me lie still. She pressed into my back, slid her left hand over to my chest. "So, how do you like that Natalie?" she asked. "I don't know," I shrugged, "seems nice?" "Nice?" she repeated, "she scares you into depilating your entire body and you call her 'nice'?" "She didn't scare me into anything," I protested, not really believing myself. "Yeah, right. So why did you do it?" she asked. "Well, you didn't help much, either. I mean, she didn't seem to understand any reasonable argument, but if you at least let me keep talking to her instead of dragging me to the bathroom, I might have talked myself out of this," I said. "Honey, if I'd let her talk to her any more, she'd eat you alive and you know it," she answered. "I'm not so sure about that," I mumbled, not wanting to admit she was right. "It's all right," she whispered in my ear, "you can tell me. Does mean old Natalie scare you?" "Well..." I hesitated, "maybe a little." "There you go. Wasn't too hard, was it?" she said, "Anyway, I meant what do you think of her physically." "Huh?" "Well, do you find her attractive?" "She looks okay," I said, somewhat angry with me for spilling out something she wasn't even asking about in the first place, "kinda short, maybe." "Isn't that a plus, I mean, at least she could wear heels and not look taller than you?" I shrugged. "So, what else?