Recent Gallery


Then, These

Open Bottom Girdle, Full Cup DDD Bra, Nylon Stockings
It wasn't long after I made my first foray into my mother's dirty laundry hamper to sneak a pair of her panties, that I discovered that there was so much more under her skirts than Lace Nouveau panties.  My mother also wore the above.  Now, granted, my mother was not a beautiful, black woman, as is Miss Veronica Vincent whose photo I'm using for illustrative purposes. (Her photo in this sexy ensemble was found at www.girdlebound.com).  No.  My mother was a beautiful white woman.  But, she was as full-figured as Miss Veronica, and had equally large breasts, that fascinated me to no end all of my life, and even to this day.  (I hope that no one reading my blog will judge me too harshly for that admission.  But my aim here is to be honest.  So, sometimes, I may come to a crossroad in a narrative where I must choose to admit the hard, cold truth, at the risk of revealing how debased I really am, or choose to tone the story down by leaving out a detail, or softening it with less than a complete recitation.  I've determined I will always choose truth.)

My mother wore the above lingerie all of my life that I lived in her house and was able to sneak into her hamper.  And seemingly, even in the summer months, as I could always find it in the hamper.  I understand many natural girls don't do that so much anymore.  And I admit, that in the heat of the humid summer, when I'm already wearing a suit to work, I don't always wear a girdle or stockings or slip beneath my male disguise, as I do in the cooler months.  But not my mother.  Which meant I could usually count on finding her sexy lingerie to slip into whenever I found the time alone.

I'll never forget the first time I tried on everything together - the Lace Nouveau panties, the Playtex open bottom girdle, her Playtex Living Bra with the huge breast cups, and her nylon stockings.  I was fucking in heaven!  I stood in front of her full-length mirror in her bedroom and just stared at myself.  In no way did I see a boy.  I can vividly remember thinking how lucky girls were to get to wear such unbelievable clothing.  I wondered if my older sister (five years older) wore similar clothing.  Somehow, I did not think that she did.  I later confirmed that, to some extent she didn't.  I'll talk about her later.

I figured a way to stuff my mother's bra cups with other clothing from her hamper, usually panties and stockings.  Initially, when I first began my exploration into feminine clothing, I did not go into my mother's drawers.  I was too afraid that, if I moved anything, she'd realize someone had been in there.  Shoot!  I was careful enough just returning things to her hamper in as close to the position and order it was in when I removed it  Like I've said, no one needed to tell me that what I was doing was completely and utterly taboo.  A boy who dressed in girls' underwear was a sissy who deserved to be teased unmercifully.  And I couldn't risk that.  I already was teased by my friends because I was kind of pretty.  However, I had something going for me that made teasing me for being pretty difficult.  I was a tremendous athlete.  I was always the fastest kid in my class.  And I could catch a football and a baseball better than anyone.  Everyone wanted me on their team.  So, I may have been pretty, and an easy tease mark because of that, but on the athletic field I shut the bullies up.  In other words, I was a guy on the outside, and always have managed to maintain that public image.  A guy who secretly, whenever he could, dressed up in his mother's sexy underwear.

There was a long void in my life when, after I moved away from home, that I simply could not find a way to dress up as I had enjoyed during my youth.  I never was willing to take the risks associated with being caught.  And until the internet, and the advancement in internet shopping, it was just really, really hard to obtain such clothing.  I've been married twice, and neither of my wives wore such sexy underwear as my mom did.  So, my options were limited.  But, as I tell my story, you'll come to learn how I've reached the point in my life where I am virtually never not wearing at least panties.

Another Lucky Cuckold

http://www.redtube.com/64653






If you look you can see his cock riding on hubby nose

You know he is loving all the abuse his wife is heaping on him, click on the above link to watch the action

A Little Role Play to Add Excitement




Oh baby he made me so messy

As with most couples who've been together a long time, our sex life was becoming mundane. Roger suggested we try some role play in the bedroom and even admitted a fantasy of his that I would dominate him. Of course this didn't surprise me as I had always called the shots, so to speak, making all the important decisions, most without even asking his opinion.



I ordered him to undress and to get on the bed, then I did the same, putting his slender body between my massive thighs. When I told him I could hardly feel his puny dick he moaned with excitement, I said the only way he could ever satisfy me was with his tongue. This sent him over the top and he came, as his little pud shriveled up it slipped out of me. He began to apologize, promising to do better and more to shut him up than anything else I rose up and plopped my cum filled pussy right on his face.



He tried to turn his head but I was too fast for him and now my messy cunt was affixed to his mouth. I grabbed his head and rubbed my pussy all over his face, then I told him I was feeding him another man's cum and that he was now my cuckold. He became a wild man with desire and he lapped up his cum as a kitten to a saucer of milk.



Now when we make love I tell him of my secret lover named 'Steve' and all the dirty things we do together. The best part is, there really is a Steve and unbeknown to my husband we have been fucking for years. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell Roger the truth but then he loves his little fantasy and I love the real thing so why should I rock the boat.

A Little Back Door Lovin, Wife-dom Style




Giving hubby anal




“Wow, my husband got so shit-faced last night.”


“Really drunk huh?”


“What? No, I never let him drink.”



A husband's Place is Between her Legs




Now concentrate on me for once

"Oh my god, Roger you promised tonight would be all about my pleasure and now all you can do is whine about breathing. You are so selfish, I don't think you care about my happiness at all."

"No, sweetie, don't be mad, I can do better, honest, just let me have one more breath and ump..."


These - Where It All Started

Vanity Fair Lace Nouveau Nylon Brief
These were my first.  They were all that my mother ever wore.  (I suspect she still does.)  Which meant, of course, that there was always a pair or two available in her dirty clothes hamper.  How old was I?  I can't say for certain.  My memory of sneaking - yes - sneaking - into her bathroom and removing a pair of these exciting panties is strong.  I'll never forget it.  But my precise age, I cannot recall.  I do recall where I lived though.  And from that, I can say that I was seven or eight years old.  That much I'm certain of.

I can vividly recall the moment.  I sorted through my mother's dirty clothing.  I wasn't just looking generally either.  I knew what I was after.  And when I found them, my heart was racing.  Pounding out of my chest with excitement and fear.  Excitement over touching these shiny, soft, slick, nylon panties.  Fear of getting caught.

The questions I've asked myself over and over and over as an adult, reflecting back upon those first times, revolve around the initial draw to feminine lingerie.  I was just a little boy.  And my mother was no wild woman.  She was beautiful.  And still is.  But it wasn't as though I was exposed to overt sexuality.  But something made me, a seven or eight year old boy, want - no - need - to feel, smell, wear, my mother's panties.   That's right.  I sniffed them.  I was captivated by the unmistakeable scent of woman.  And, I still am, which probably explains why, when it comes to pleasing women, I am so much more comfortable doing it with my mouth than with my clitty.

The other big question for me is, how did a seven or eight year old boy know that it was wrong?  How could an innocent child know that it was wrong to sneak into his mother's dirty clothes and remove her underwear?  I couldn't know.  But, make no mistake, I knew.  I knew that a boy who did such a thing was no boy.  He was something else.  And we all know what that something else is.  I didn't have the vocabulary then to put a name to it.  But I knew what I was.  I knew what kind of boy stole his mother's nylon undies, sniffed them, and then put them on and wore them.  Put on multiple pairs so that the layers of nylon could be rubbed against each other, creating that feeling on my little boy penis that I have never stopped being drawn to.  Even now, as I type this, I'm wearing a pair of Vanity Fair Lace Nouveau panties.  Only now, I'm lying in bed next to my wife, and I'm also wearing a bra filled with breast forms and a pink Miss Elaine nightgown.

But then, when I did it the first time, and then the other times when I repeated my pilfering, I wasn't a boy when I wore my mother's panties.  I was a little girl.  That was what I felt.  That was how I saw myself.  I put on the panties, and immediately, the face I saw in the mirror wasn't a little boy.  It was a pretty girl.  I can even remember my mother's friends, and store clerks where my mom would take me shopping with her, saying how I was so pretty that I should have been a girl.  Coincidence?  I don't think so.  But I wasn't a girl then.  And I'm not one now.  I know what I am.  And have always been.

My taste in panties has far surpassed my first exposure to my mother's Lace Nouveau, but those were my first, and remain one of my favorites.  I read in a lingerie store ad that they are making a big comeback because they are great for women to avoid showing panty lines.  But I digress.

What was wired into my DNA at birth that made a little boy who knew nothing about such things to be drawn to wear his mother's nylon panties, and to know that it was wrong to do so?  How wrong?  I'd carefully remember where within the hamper I removed each pair from.  I remembered, roughly, how they lay.  And when I returned them, I was careful to put them back right where I found them - as if anyone who tosses their dirty underwear into a hamper actually marks the spot and would know - just know - if someone had moved a pair.  Shoot!  I still know it is wrong.  Otherwise, my family would know.  My friends would know.  My work colleagues would know.  That I wear panties all - of - the - time.  Every day.  The reason I don't let anyone know is that I don't want them teasing me.  Calling me a sissy.  Just like when I was a little boy.

It wasn't much longer after I took that first step that I was caught for the first time.  And when I tell about that, you'll understand how well I was taught just how wrong it was for a boy to where girls' underwear.  And you'll also understand just how strong the draw was, and still is, for me.  Because I never stopped wanting to - needing to - wear panties - and much, much more.

What a Mess (looks yummy)




Now it's hubby's turn

Oh my god Johnny, what a load, I can't wait to get my hubby's face in it.


 
Support : Venus Net | Pagak City
Copyright © 2013. pornstar galery Massage - All Rights Reserved
Template Created by Together Published by Venus Net
Proudly powered by Blogger