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Warning: This is the fourth chapter in a long, sometimes slow, edgy and very kinky incest tale. Each chapter builds on previous chapters. This story contains topics such as small breast fetish, female and male domination/submission, cuckoldry, spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cross-dressing, feminization, panty fetish, sissification, embarrassment/humiliation, masturbation, father/daughter, mother/son, and bi-sexuality. It is not intended to be a “Quick Read”, but rather a shocking and detailed look at the way two kinky people find each other, the way their relationship blossoms and the experiences they enjoy and endure.
When we got out into the mall, Patty steered me toward one of the upscale department stores at the very end of the mall; one of the well known anchor stores. Making our way through the store, we stopped once or twice to look at some dresses and skirts she liked. I saw some thin, gauze-like shirts which would be perfect for Patty to show off her little breast treasures. They had one style that had a low cut neck, but the one I really liked was very form fitting and would almost cling to her body, making her breasts very easy to see and admire by anyone that chose to look. I made a mental note to come back and pick one up for her. She saw the gleam in my eye while I looked at them and I think she was impressed I was thinking of her.
When we passed the Juniors section, there was a rack of tartan skirts on display, some of them red and white, and some of them were blue and white, and they reminded me of school girl or private school uniform skirts. Pulling her over to the rack, I held one up and said “Imagine this about eight inches shorter.”
“You Naughty Boy!” She said, turning to slap my arm. “That would be totally indecent to wear.”
With a grin on my face, I replied, “You mean deliciously indecent?”
I made another mental note to pick up one or two of these, too. “We’re here to buy panties, remember?” She scolded. Then, taking my hand in hers, she made a bee line directly to the lingerie department.
Their lingerie department was nothing short of huge, and it was filled with all kinds of soft, stretchy, lacy and very sexy items. As we entered, the very first thing we came upon was a display of the sheerest bra and panty sets I’ve ever seen. They were almost transparent. You could even see the nipples of the mannequins showing through. I thought about how Patty’s little breasts would look showing through a bra like that and the image in my head was tantalizing.
I stopped in front of the display and looked at Patty. “I like that bra.” I said. “I bet your nipples would look extra suckable through one of those.”
“Paul,” she replied, “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t wear bras. I think I might have maybe two at home, but, I almost never wear one.”
“But,” I answered, “those are so charming. You can see right through them…. I mean, they’re sexy and would look so good with those see through panties, and maybe one of those shirts we saw back there….. and one of those school girl skirts.”
“I see where this is going.” She replied. “Okay,” she said, with a smirk on her face, “if you insist, but, for every bra I get, you have to get one, too.”
Now, that stopped me cold. Even though I’ve worn my share of panties, the only time I’ve ever worn a bra was at the hands of my mother the days she dressed me up as my sister, Sissy. I hadn’t told Patty that part of my story yet, but I knew if she wanted to hear the whole account of my Mom and me, it would probably come out. I didn’t know if Patty’s comment was a test, or if Patty had something else in mind.
Now, just as an aside, I know the implications when a man wears a bra. Panties are one thing, but a bra is a completely different matter. A man might wear panties as a substitute for his regular underwear for many reasons: opportunity, comfort, desire, curiosity, fantasy, excitement, punishment, tradition, or even by request. A man who wears panties can normally protect his secret because his trousers cover them and he can indulge himself without anyone knowing. Basically, a man can wear panties as much as he likes with no impact what so ever to his masculinity. There are historic accounts from ages past to support the fact that a percentage of men definitely wear female underpants. That is a known fact which is indisputable.
A bra on the other hand, is a strictly feminine garment. When a man wears a bra, he is subjugating his masculinity in favor of femininity. What I mean is; a man doesn’t put on a bra simply by ‘mistake’, or without considering the implications. A bra is made for breasts, which are (in most cases) exclusive to the female. So when a man wears a bra, what he’s saying is that he’s potentially willing to set aside his masculinity temporarily, or in some cases, permanently. One of the first things an experienced dominant female will do to a male submissive is put him in a bra. That makes poker oyna the male incredibly docile and open to suggestion. The second thing they do is make sure a third party actually sees the man wearing the bra. Once that happens, the man’s masculinity has been neutered. True, when the man sheds the bra, his masculinity can return, but, as long as the bra remains on, that submissive male can be trained to think, act and react in ways which are not influenced by his masculinity — and he’ll do so quite willingly.
And, all of that is exactly what was going through my mind just after Patty said “for every bra I get, you have to get one, too.” It’s a lot to comprehend and process at one time and I must have spaced out while trying to sort through everything after she said it.
“Paul?” Patty said, breaking me out of my trance. “Have you worn a bra before?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I answered reluctantly but truthfully, “when my Mom dressed me up.”
“Oh, now I’m REALLY going to have to hear the rest of that story!” Patty whispered to me.
“Later.” I replied. “I told you, it’s a long, long story.”
“Well, let’s see,” Patty mused, “I guess I’m looking for a 32A. Or, actually a 32AA would be better if I can find one, but these stores don’t usually carry bras that small.”
Looking through the bras to find her size, she turned to me and asked, “What size for you?”
Luckily, there wasn’t anyone around us – I looked to make sure. A woman and her daughter were a few racks away, but I don’t think they heard her ask me what size bra I would wear. I cringed at the thought of some woman overhearing Patty and I discussing my bra size.
“38.” I said softly.
I watched as Patty sorted through the rack, pushing bras back and forth and digging into the back to find matching bras in our sizes. Finally, she found two bras, 32A and 38A, and two panties, an extra small for her and a medium for me. She picked white, but there was yellow and pink, too. I breathed a sign of relief when she didn’t pick the pink.
We looked through every table, rack and display of that lingerie department together, and for each pair of panties we got for her, she picked out a matching pair for me, in my size. By the time we were done, we probably had a total of forty pairs of panties for the two of us. She’d picked out a rainbow of colors for us, including many different shades of pink.
She’d seen me flinch the first time she reached for pink, and I saw a little grin creep up on the corners of her mouth when she saw my reaction. “Listen,” Patty whispered, “girls wear pink. I’m a girl. I like pink. It’s not going to kill you.”
Then she added, “Look at it this way…. you’ll be so much better in tune with your feminine side wearing pink.” After that, I think she made a deliberate decision to choose pink panties when she able to find matching styles and the right sizes.
“It’ll be fine,” Patty assured me, patting my chest lightly, “no one’s going to see them besides me, anyway. Except maybe your Mom,” Patty added as she smiled up to me, “and that would be perfectly fine with me.”
If I didn’t already figure out Patty was very interested in my Mom and I, I think I knew for sure now. She’d said she wanted to hear the rest of my story, and wanted to know the details of what we did, and now she was telling me she’d be okay with my Mom seeing me in my pink panties. I stopped for a second to consider how she was going to react when I told her the whole story about my Mom.
As we walked to the cashier counter, the lady behind the counter looked up to greet us. Laying the merchandise out on the counter, the saleslady began to sort through the bundle of softies and looked at Patty.
“Some of these are different sizes, Miss.” She said. “The bras, and the panties, both.”
Patty turned to me, and just as casually as you can image asked, “38A and Mediums for you, isn’t that right, Paul?”
I wanted to crawl into a hole right then. She even called me by name. But, Patty reached down to grasp my hand and she squeezed it as she asked. I could feel my face turn red and the saleslady, seeing my obvious mortification, immediately turned her attention back to the pile of lingerie on the counter in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” the saleslady said softly as she looked up at me, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s okay,” Patty replied, leaning over to whisper to her, “I guess you don’t get many male customers in here buying women’s panties and bras for themselves.”
Patty was laying it on pretty thick. She didn’t even lower her voice and I saw a woman customer snicker when she obviously overheard what Patty said. She held my hand tightly , too — keeping me right next to her so I wouldn’t try to sneak away.
“Honestly,” the saleslady answered quite softly, “we do get couples from time to time….. uh, like you, buying different sizes. And we get some men shopping for their wives and girlfriends….. they say.” The woman busied herself canlı poker oyna with the tags and laying everything out so she could ring them up.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” the woman continued, leaning over and speaking softly to Patty, “if I was a man, I’d prefer to wear these, too.”
“See?” Patty said, turning to look at me, and clutching my hand even tighter. Then, turning back to the saleslady, Patty asked, “If Paul wanted to shop by himself sometime for his own panties, could he come here and ask for you?”
“Oh, please!” I prayed silently in desperation. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
“Of course.” The saleslady replied, and picking up her business card from the counter, she handed it directly to me and told me I could stop by anytime and she’d be honored to help me.
I stood there, red faced and about to start to sweat as she finished ringing up our purchase and putting our combined lingerie in the bags. While we stood there, Patty snuggled up to me and covertly reached down to press her hand against my crotch. I didn’t realize how hard I was, but, feeling the steel rod in my pants, Patty looked up at me with a knowing smile. Between the embarrassment, the humiliation and the excitement, my cock was throbbing inside the ruffled bridal panties I was wearing. And I could tell Patty’s was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.
When the saleslady finished our purchase, Patty said “Thank You” and we walked away, hand in hand.
“Damn!” I whispered to her, when we turned out of the lingerie department. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”
“Oh, and you’re acting like you didn’t enjoy all that?” Patty replied as we walked. “Your cock sure seemed to enjoy it. Besides,” she went on, “that woman doesn’t know you – and now you’ll be able to come in here alone and buy things for the both of us.”
“Well, I do try to keep my panty wearing a secret, Patty.” I said. “Hardly no one knows and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Really?” Patty replied. “No one knows? Let’s see….. well, your Mom knows, and your sister probably knows, and some of your ex-girlfriends know…. and I know, and that woman knows. And, you’re still alive and no one has put out a ‘Wanted’ poster for you, have they? I guess maybe it’s not such a horrible thing if someone knows, huh?”
“Well, Miss Smarty Pants,” I broke in, “my secretary doesn’t know, and the people that work for me don’t know, and your father surely doesn’t know.”
“I don’t know about your secretary or the people at your work,” Patty answered, “but, I guarantee Daddy wouldn’t care. You know, Paul,” she added, “personally, I love the idea of my guy wearing panties. If it was up to me, I’d want you to wear them all the time.”
“Somehow, I’m finding that hard to believe.” I replied.
“Well, just to prove I’m telling the truth, would you let me come over to your house first thing tomorrow morning and throw out all the male stuff in your underwear drawer and replace it with all the cute things we’re buying today?” Patty asked.
Memories of my Mom putting my sister’s lingerie in my drawer at home flooded my brain, and I was impressed with Patty’s keen sense of understanding and awareness. I started to visualize Patty doing that, just as my mother did years ago. The vision was potent and I couldn’t deny the fact that I liked it the idea.
We playfully taunted each other back and forth as to what she might put in my drawers for me, and how she would arrange it all — by style or by color. As we walked, I asked her if she was serious about wanting to come over tomorrow morning to throw all my underwear out.
“Hell, yes!” She answered. “Every damn bit of it. Every boxer and brief you have would go straight in the trash. Well, maybe you can keep one pair for when you go to the doctor.”
” Oh!” Patty added, “And you can keep anything special you got from your Mom. One thing, though,” she said with a serious tone in her voice, “when you get home tonight, you better get rid of anything you ever got from any other girl before I get there, because I’ll be pissed as hell if I ever find any of that stuff.”
“Okay,” I replied, “that works for me.”
Before long, we came to another store that sold lingerie. She looked at me and said “Are we going in, or should we call it a day?”
“Damn straight we’re going in!” I said, strongly.
Patty informed me she was keeping her mouth shut this time and I was doing all the talking. Then, before I could protest, she pulled me in and took me right to the lingerie section. Before long, a salesgirl — probably about Patty’s age, came up and asked if she could help us.
“Yes.” I answered quickly, trying to show Patty I could handle this smoothly. “We’re looking for underwear…. something comfortable, but still… you know… sexy.”
“Okay,” the girl replied, “what size are you?” She asked, looking at Patty.
Patty didn’t say a thing. I spoke up right away, acting cool and internet casino confident, saying, “Extra Small for her and Medium for me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Patty smile.
The girl didn’t seem to flinch at all. “Let me show you these first.” She said, pointing to a rack several feet away. Patty and I followed behind her until she stopped at a rack that had some very nice panties in many colors.
“You’ll like these,” she said to me, “they don’t have a lot of scratchy lace.” Then pointing out the style she added, “They have full coverage in the back, and a good waistband to keep them tight on you…. uh, around your front.”
Looking around quickly to make sure we weren’t too close to anyone else, the salesgirl leaned a bit closer to Patty and I and then said, “These are the ones I get for my boyfriend,” she added matter of factly, “it’s all he wears now. Except the pink ones. He still won’t wear anything pink. Yet.” She added, slightly amused.
Stunned at the salesgirl’s willingness to be so open with us, I looked at Patty to see her standing there with a smug look on her face. I picked up a pair of the panties and looked at them. The girl told me the fabric was the newest kind; it was made to ‘breathe’. She also pointed out the integrated crotch panel saying they were easy to care for and was sure I would find them comfortable, especially, as she put it, “because regular panties aren’t really cut for a guy,” and adding, “I’m sure you’ll find these much better than other panties you’ve tried. They’ll keep you, you know…. inside.”
Breaking her silence, Patty asked, “I’m just curious….. do you sell a lot of panties to men? I mean, for themselves?”
“I certainly try to.” The salesgirl answered. “Whenever I see a man with a woman, or male customer by himself, I always watch for the signs he might be shopping for himself. Believe me, some men are so relieved when the find out they don’t have to pretend anymore and they buy a lot!”
“That’s actually pretty interesting to hear.” Patty replied. Then she added, “Paul, I think we should get one of every color for both of us. If they are as great as she says, then we’ll know what kind to buy in the future.”
In all the previous times I’ve shopped for panties, I, too, always had to pretend they were for someone else. This was the first time I’d volunteered the fact that they were for me. In a way, I felt proud to be overcoming my anxiety. This girl didn’t look at me weird and she obviously knew her merchandise. For once, I was being completely honest and everything was going fine.
The girl helped us find the right size in each of the colors, even helping us decide on the style: bikini, hipster, tanga, boyshorts, etc. She warned that the bikini cut wasn’t necessarily the best style for a man, but added that her boyfriend had a few pairs of bikinis and she liked the way they looked on him. She took us over to another display which had some different bikini panties which she said fit her boyfriend much better because the elastic waist band was better. The way she said it, I got a vision of some guy wearing bikini panties with a hard-on trying to poke its head out. So, what she said made good sense to me.
We ended up spending forty five minutes with the salesgirl picking out panties and when we were done, we had two armfuls. Just when we thought we were done, the girl bent over and whispered for a few seconds into Patty’s ear. Patty looked at me and then whispered something back to her.
The salesgirl stepped next to me and said, “Let me show you something over here we just got in the first of last week.” We followed her around the next two aisles and came to an end cap display with some bras hanging up.
“We just started carrying these, and I don’t know if you’re interested in them but….. uh.” The salesgirl looked at Patty and in turn, Patty nodded her head to the girl. “Well, the salesgirl continued, “my boyfriend has always had a hang up about wearing a bra but I knew the thought of it really interests him….. you know…. a lot.. When I saw these, I bought one for him and he liked it so much I bought six more two days later, so, he has one for each day of the week. Kind of like those ‘Days-of-the-Week’ panties.”
I’d never seen bras like these. They looked like short, lightweight cut off tank tops. The material felt and looked exactly like the nylon nightgowns and Baby Dolls Mom and Sissy used to have long ago. There were no wires or clasps, and there were no cups. It was a little stretchy and looked like one piece of material that made up the whole thing. Even the thin lace piping on the shoulder straps looked like it would have perfectly matched Sissy’s Baby Dolls. Maybe these were tops to pajamas or something.
“My boyfriend has been wearing them under his shirt to work and you can’t even tell he’s got a bra on.” She said as I stared at the rack. After a minute, Patty moved over next to me and gently nudged me closer to the rack. “Would you like to try one on?” The girl asked very quietly.
I looked at Patty and she nodded her head up and down slightly. I felt my throat go dry and I nodded my head, too. “About what size?” The girl asked.
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