Girls, lovely girls

Doctor, Doctor

I'm turning an age that ends in a zero soon. Ends with a zero and starts with a four. I'm pretty blah about that. It's a number. I've got a career, health (more below), a wonderful woman, and all that.

Part of celebrating the eleventh anniversary of one's twenty-ninth birthday, at least for a male (or sissy, or whatever...I have male parts) is a trip to the doctor for a physical.

So, off I went this morning. I'd planned on going, then coming home to change for work (doctor is only a mile away), so I was only going to wear track pants, a sweatshirt, etc. I went to my drawer (my boy drawer as Emily calls it) and got out a pair of boxer shorts.

"What are you doing," Emily asked me, walking into the room fastening an earring in her ear.

"I have my physical this morning; I did not want to put on a suit for that."

"No, no, I get that. I mean, what are you doing with those," she asked, pointing at the boxers in my hands.

"Emily," I groaned, knowing exactly what she meant in her tone.

She raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to wear a garter belt and stockings, for crying out loud, I wouldn't to the doctor, but you don't have to wear those, either."

"So what am I supposed to wear," I puffed, irritated at her. I knew I could do what I wanted; wearing boxer shorts was not 'forbidden' but Emily really didn't like it when I did, even if I had to for some reason or another.

Reading my mind, Em answered. "Wear whatever you want, but you now I'd prefer you in something besides those. Even cotton panties are better than those," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, which itself was humorous, as I know she found a masculine man in boxer shorts attractive.

"I don't have any cotton panties," I immediately retorted.

"And I'd never let you borrow a pair," she shot back just as fast.

I sighed, did the little thing I did, that facial expression, eyes closed, when Emily irritated. me.

"Do what you want," she said, putting it right back on me, turning back towards her jewelry box.

"Can I," I asked, finally.

"Can you want?"

"Can I borrow a pair of panties," I asked as humble as I could.

"You really don't have to," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.

"Emily, may I borrow a pair of cotton panties, please?"

"Yes, you may," she said, going to her drawer, opening it, rummaging around. She turned and handed me both a pair of pink cotton panties and a matching camisole.

"Both," I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

She nodded. "I assume you'll undress alone, so I doubt you have any reason to be worried, though to be honest, do you really think anything a doctor sees really matters? You think an internist doesn't have several transgendered patients? You could go in there wearing a skirt and blouse and not raise an eyebrow."

It turns out she was right, mostly.

When I got there, the nurse escorted me to the room, handed me a gown, and told me to strip to my underwear (meaning my panties, of course, as she didn't know I was wearing a camisole, too.) She said she had to do an EKG, get my blood pressure, other vitals, then I'd finish undressing for the doctor. Thus, it sounded like no one would see.

Em was mostly right because the nurse did see more than the doctor. In doing the EKG, attaching leads here and there, the nurse rearranged the gown in a way that at least a third, maybe half of my panties were uncovered by the gown. I was on my back, looking down. I saw the pink, she obviously did, but said nothing. If anything, she was very kind to me, professional, yet extremely kind.

It was completely uneventful. The doctor saw me completely naked, no panties, did the physical. All is good. My ticker is great, blood pressure fine, weight great, etc. Prostate healthy (my first prostate exam.)

Emily asked me about that when I called her, but I'm saving that discussion, for another time.

Weekend

It was just after 1:00 in the morning, late Saturday, early Sunday. Emily was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing only the bra, panty, and garter belt set, stockings, and heels, she'd work under her dress that evening at the small gathering we had at her place with some of her old friends.

I was getting ready for bed, too, a few minutes ahead of her. I'd already slipped my breast forms into my bra and slipped into a satin chemise and matching panties. I too had worn pretty lingerie that evening, only under slacks and a shirt.

We'd hosted a few of her high school friends who were in town over the holidays. Two other couples (she was friends with a woman of one couple, a guy of another), another old cross country friend, newly pregnant (smiles for her), without her husband (boo to him), and a single guy (Mark, a high school boy friend of Emily, a couple of years older than her.)

We all drank, ate dinner, played some stupid board games, which are actually quite fun, for adults, especially with a little alcohol involved. Em had invited all to drink what they felt like drinking, offering her guest room, sun room, and couch to anyone wishing to spend the night.

Only Mark, who'd had quite a bit of wine himself, stayed the night.

Now, I know there is nothing between Em and Mark. Well, Mark lusts for her, that's obvious, but Em did her dance with him, long before she met me, didn't want to dance for the rest of her life with him, ended it, just friends.

But that doesn't mean Em can't have her fun.

So, Emily and I were both slightly tipsy, having shared most of two bottles of wine, probably both a little horny, as we often get when we've had just that amount to drink. Emily was now mostly naked, about to take off one of her heels, when she looked up at me standing near the bed, all pretty.

"I saw the look in your eyes earlier, sweetie," she said innocently.

"Look? What do you mean?"

Emily looked down, as if she was slightly embarrassed. "When he mentioned that black party."

"Oh," I said, blushing myself.

I don't know if he said it to tease me, to tease Emily, to hit on her, because he was drunk. I don't know why he said it, I just know he said it, I heard it, and Emily saw the reaction in my eyes.

Mark was talking about some party he went to a few weeks ago, a "black party." Per the theme, everyone was to wear black. Mark's friend forgot to tell him about the theme, so he showed up wearing nothing black, feeling foolish.

Called out on it by the host, as Mark told us, sitting at one end of Emily's long table, opposite her, where the "man" of the house should sit, in the chair I was not sitting in, as I was at Emily's left hand, more like a servant, a lady in waiting, than a significant other.

"So," Mark says, loudly, "I tell him, but I do have something black, I've got a big, black cock."

The table all laughed, Emily's other guy friend decides to bust Mark's chops. "That's what all the lady's tell you, right, Mark, to make you feel good about yourself."

Without missing a beat, Mark looks down the table at Emily, a grin on his face, "I don't know, ask Emily, she was always telling me it was almost too big and I fucked her longer and harder and better than any guy she ever had."

"Mark," Emily said, with a nervous laugh. I looked at Em, who was red faced.

"I'm just saying," Mark grinned, glancing my way for an instant.

"Another girl just stroking your ego, little man," the other guy laughed, getting a winning role right then and there, letting the topic die without further comment or embarrassment.

Except to me.

Later.

"You were embarrassed?"

"Yes," I admitted, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I don't think he meant to embarrass you."

"He looked at me after he said it, I think he meant to tell me he was more man than me," I said, not thinking about what I just said.

That made Em giggle. "Well there's irony for you, no? The high school football player telling you he was more man than you, all the while you're wearing the prettiest satin lilac camisole and tap panty set under your clothes."

"Emily, you know what I mean," I said, the male part of my ego still wounded, full of pride.

"Do I? Did Mark? Do you think Mark's bed time routine was to give himself breasts? Do you think he's wearing a bra? Panties? A pretty satin nightie like you are?"

"Emily," I said, imploring her to keep her voice down.

"Cause as I remember," she said, lowering her voice, "his cock really was much too big to fit into a pair of pretty panties like you do. I could go check, just to make sure," she said, standing up facing the door.

"God, Emily," I groaned, almost shaking.

She grinned at me. An evil grin. She grinned, turned back towards me, pushed me back on the bed, got on top of me, straddling me. "You got a little excited, didn't you?"

I looked away, my non-response all the response she needed. She moved her hips, so her panty clad mound was resting on the swelling in my own panties.

"I know you, sissy, I know you were humiliated, but I know you were excited, too. I know what flashed in your mind, sissy, Mark, naked, his big cock inside me, fucking me. I know you were picturing that, weren't you?"

"Yes," I gulped.

"He was right, lover, he was the biggest man I've ever had, by far..."

"Uuuggg," I groaned. Emily had reached between us, moved aside my panties, taken me in her hand as she said this.

"And he fucked me harder and longer..." She moved me, directed me inside her, the warmth, the wetness, quickly enveloping me, surrounding me.

"Than anyone I'd ever been with before, or been with since." She pushed down on me, stopped, just sat there, unmoving. "Of course you are much bigger...up here," she smiled, hands moving to my chest, touching, massaging my fake breasts.

"Emily," I begged, trying to thrust my hips to feel movement.

"What? God, you're so fucking beautiful," she said, touching, every so slightly rocking her hips. "Is it in? I...I can't feel...I was thinking how he filled me...come on, please, I want you inside me."

"I...I am, Emily," I said, bucking slightly.

Emily leaned down, mouth to me ear. "Please, I want to feel a cock inside me, please, don't tease me," she whispered. "Please, fuck me." Emily moved her hips up and down slowly; I felt the head of my penis on the verge of, then pop out.

"Emily," I babbled, slurring her name, dizzy.

"Please," she cooed, pushing me into her again.

"Ohhhh," I gasped, the warmth once again surrounding me.

"Please, just this once, I want to feel you inside me," she breathed heavily into me ear, as if I was not in her right now, hips trying to thrust.

"Emily, I'm...."

She cut me off. "I'll go to him, sissy. You know he wants to fuck me, you see the way he looks at me. Please, I want to feel you inside me."

She was lifting her hips now, allowing me to thrust, matching, pushing down as I went up.

"Mark, my boyfriend's a sissy, he wears panties, he can't fuck me like you used to, please, Mark, please, fuck me, please."

I exploded. How could I not. I exploded, shaking everywhere, all over, exploded.

So did Emily, exploded with me.

We fell asleep like that, intertwined, sweating, messy, her former lover, sleeping down the hall, not knowing the part he played in our little escapade.

Found this; loved this

Palmers Autumn/Winter 2009-10 Lingerie Collection

Source: HQ Lingerie

Byrdie Bell

I'm really too busy to deal with stuff like this now, but I had to comment.

Um, pst. Ms. Bell. Over here. Um, dear, you're supposed to wear a skirt over your girdle. No, no, sweetie, that isn't a skirt. It is a foundation garment. You wear that...of fuck it. Never mind.

Uugh

Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I will post. But I've been totally swamped at work (like 12 hours a day, every day of the week) with several huge projects.

Oh, and to top that, I have a run in one of my stockings today. Do you think I have an extra? Nope. Grrrr.