Panties For Men

Pick Your Own Title,a cut from my auto-bio

Lorna and me.

My special tee shirt.

Naughty girl, naughty boy.

Love on a ladder.

Hot rocks for Lorna.

Raging hormones.

Peer group jealousy.

Adults corrupting our youth.

Rite of passage.

Bev dumped me.

    These were only a few of the titles I was considering for this series of episodes in my late teen-age life.  After reading this, I’m sure you could add some titles of your own. Since I couldn’t settle on a title, you’ll need to read my account and then pick your own title.  Anyway, here’s what happened:

    One evening when I was 18 or 19, I was out ‘cruising’ with a few of my friends.    One of the guys spotted a tee shirt place, so I parked the car and we all went in.  At that place they sold tee shirts with graphics and/or slogans on them.   They also sold plain white tee shirts which they would decorate with whatever slogan and/or graphics that the customer wanted.  All of us bought shirts there.   As a result of a little ‘incident’ there, my tee shirt was lettered on both sides with bold black letters.  One side had the slogan “I like naughty girls”, with the picture of an adult male kneeling on the floor while kissing the right cheek of a woman’s very shapely derriere, while she was holding up her skirt and one side of her panties to show off some of her ‘assets’.   The other side had the slogan “I’m such a naughty boy”, with the image of a guy crawling along the floor and sneaking up from behind and lifting the back hem of a woman’s skirt for a quick peek.  Lorna, the woman who ran the place, told me that the images on the shirt were those of her and me.  I agreed to that shirt design at her insistence, after she ‘caught’ me peeking up her skirt.   Caught me you say?  She really didn’t give me much of a choice.   She made me hang on to an unsteady ladder she needed to stand on to reach a high shelf for more merchandise.  I had no idea why she picked me, since she had been flirting with each one of us from the time that we walked in the door.   After I stabilized the ladder, she told me I had to hang on to her hips, rather than the ladder. As soon as I had my hands on her butt and experienced how great that felt and saw how her skirt rode up each time she moved a little, the urge to sneak a peek became so powerful that I instantly caved in to the temptation.  

I’m not bragging, but on the other hand I’m not in denial here either. I cannot re-write history, nor can I deny or sugar-coat it. I’m simply relaying what actually happened without (hopefully) getting too graphic. Her removing my glasses was a signal she wanted something more than just ‘up skirt peek-a-boo’ from me.  I felt so delightfully helpless yet powerful, while at the same time feeling a tad naughty as I kissed my way up her very shapely legs.  When I got all the way up, she twisted her hips enough to 'gap' her panties enough for me to put my tongue inside her.  My joy stick exploded!  The idea of resisting her never entered my mind, since I never had the ability to resist her.   All of my senses became overwhelmed instantly.  My attraction to her was so intense that I could think of nothing else, and I was literally being driven insane!  That experience was the first time in my life I felt so totally helpless.  I became like a puppet on a string, since she had me totally under her control.  I was totally at her mercy, doing everything she told me to, and loving every minute of it, and continually begging for more!  That entire thing was wonderful beyond my wildest dreams.   Call me a hearse, I thought I had died and gone to heaven!  She seemed to be in her mid to late 20’s.  I should tell you she was super-hot, and her skirt was short enough that I didn’t need to lift it for my quick peek, although she lifted it to make ‘other things’ easier for me.    Her hot sexy legs were to die for.   I was an “out-of-control teen-ager running wild with raging hormones”.  Really now, is there another kind of a teen-ager?   No, not on this planet anyway.  Knowing all of that, it’s no wonder that I surrendered to all her desires while still begging for more.                                                               

    When we started to leave, she put her arms around me and kissed me passionately and told me how special I was.  I told her how wonderful she was and how wild she made me feel.  I told her how beautiful she was and how turned on I was by our “up-skirt time”.  She thanked me for all the ‘attention’ that I gave her during our ‘up-skirt time’.  Notice that I said “our” up-skirt time.  That was because she helped things along by holding her skirt up.  I also thanked her for rewarding me with hugs and kisses.  I told her that I loved the feeling of her soft, smooth, warm thighs and butt cheeks teasing my lips and slapping my face.  I told her that I loved her, and I wanted her to tease me forever.   I told her I loved the smell of her perfume.  She asked me to come back when I was alone, then she would take me upstairs of her store and show me some ‘other things’.  She left the fragrances of perfume and ‘other fragrances’, as well as some imprints of her lips, all over my face and neck. I was in no hurry to wash any of it off.  Even in the ‘heat of the moment’, I should always “mind my manners” and say “thank you” whenever someone does something nice to or for me, since that’s what Mom always taught me to do ever since I was a little boy.  So thanks for everything, Lorna.

    When we got in the car, all my friends teased me about Lorna being an older ‘hottie’ who ‘prefers’ teen-age boys.   I told them that I was ‘on fire’ for Lorna.   They said they wanted to find a public phone so they could call the fire dept. for me, LOL!    During that time they were laughing hysterically. They shared some of their ideas about what those ‘other things’ upstairs of Lorna’s shop might have been.  They had a ‘field day’ teasing me, and I loved every minute of it!   I believed they were jealous, since Lorna didn’t treat any of them the way she treated me.  Nothing much doing after that, so we headed home. 

    When Mom saw my tee shirt, she had a cow!   She made me take it off and give it to her.    I asked her if I could keep the shirt if I promised not to wear it in public.  She refused my offer.  Though I didn’t say so, I believed that the images on the shirt were of Lorna and me, simply because Lorna had told me they were.  I think Mom may have sensed that, and that’s why she wouldn’t let me keep the shirt.  She wanted me to forget Lorna rather than keep something around to remind me of her.  Sorry Mom.  It didn’t work.  I still remember Lorna.  Anyway, when Mom saw the lipstick on me, she asked who had been kissing me.   Notice she didn’t ask me who I had had been kissing, but rather asked who had been kissing me.  She had assumed that I was the ‘victim’ and wanted to know who the ‘predator’ was.  Now there’s a typical parental reaction if there ever was one!  (It’s never your kid’s fault.)  Maybe the hint of perfume or of Lorna’s ‘other smell’ was still with me, since Mom said I smelled like a whore house.  Once she began grilling me, I told her all about Lorna and the ladder, the up-skirt activities, and the embracing and kissing and all the other things we did.   I also told her that Lorna wanted me to come back when I was alone, so she could show me some ‘other things’ upstairs of her shop. That’s when mom started bad-mouthing Lorna, by calling her “a perverted little sex-pot who tries to seduce innocent teen-age boys”.  Innocent you say?  No, not me anyway, since I loved every minute of my ‘special’ time with Lorna. I think I’m picking up a pattern here. All during my life, whenever an older woman or girl would hold me or kiss me and then tell me that I was ‘special’, I would melt like ice cream in the Sahara Desert!   Now, back to the original subject.  After Mom finished her rant, I of course defended Lorna. That is what led to our ‘big fight’.  As a result of our big fight, Mom forbade me to go back to the tee shirt shop or to have any contact with Lorna.  I was devastated!   Later on in life, I realized that Mom probably understood better than I did what might have happened if I had gone back to Lorna.

    There could be any number of reasons for Dad’s reaction, or lack of it, to the whole situation with Lorna and me.  I recall that Dad didn’t seem at all shook up about my tee shirt, or the lipstick smudges on my face and neck, or the fact that I ‘smelled like a whore house’.  He might have thought of the whole episode as an inevitable teen-age ‘rite of passage’ or ‘coming of age’.  I also think he believed Mom had the whole situation under control, and that’s maybe another reason he didn’t make a big deal out of it.   Here’s another thing.   I’m only guessing, but I think that Dad could have possibly had a similar experience when he was a teen-ager.  If that’s true, then that could explain why he was not critical or judgmental of me or Lorna.   Dad had his faults, as we all do, however being a hypocrite was not one of them.

    As wonderful as my whole experience with Lorna was, I never thought in a million years that it would result in breaking up with Bev, my girlfriend at the time.  Truth be told, when Bev discovered what Lorna and I had done, she dumped me.   She found out about it when she overheard a phone conversation between me and another friend who wasn’t with me when I was at Lorna’s shop.  I had told him all the details of what had happened between Lorna and me.  So now Bev was gone and Lorna was off limits!  Lesson learned?  You don’t need to tell everybody everything that’s in your head, you have a choice here.  Install a filter between your brain and your mouth.  For the first time in quite a while, I had no girl friends in my life.  Bev’s family’s statement that I was “a keeper”, and “part of the family” were words that haunted me for a long time after she dumped me.