Paisley Panties.

So, this is a very brief piece, but one I truly enjoy!

Paisley Panties

A beach’s groin—a device used to protect a shore from sand erosion. The groin of a beach is a wall erected vertically from the shoreline penetrating a body of water; which is used to show the fluctuation of sand along the coastline—a divider or potential block. The hope is that a groin will stop sediment from moving from one beach to another, blocking sand that travels along the shore—a potential regulator. The groin is also a sensitive region on our bodies housing reproductive organs, which can sometimes be considered sacred and foreign.

The groin, an area of the body that can be unidentifiable unlike the time my sister identified her lingerie covering my groin, when I was a teen. My white briefs felt so uncomfortable, so unnatural, and so plain. Her panties fit perfectly. Her panties made me feel pretty, for once, so I pranced around my room, walking high on the balls of my feet acting like I had on four-inch stilettos. Her black and eggplant paisley patterned panties covered just enough of my groin, hiding everything. The design of the high-rise panties was impeccable. Two strands of lace dangled from the each hip, which tied together leaving a delicate little bow at the sides of my pelvic region, allowing me to embody femininity even more. The paisley print covered front and back, outlined in black lace, covering both butt cheeks. She wasn’t allowed to wear thongs because Mom said she was too young. Sis thought she should be able to express her fifteen-year-old femininity by wearing them, which was verbalized when all three of us went shopping for Sis’s new panties. I agreed with Sis, she should’ve been able to wear panties that allowed her to express herself.

Sexually associated, I thought her panties made my groin area look incredibly large, compared to my ugly underwear. My boring underwear did not sexually excite my teenaged self nearly as much as the pretty, lacey panties did. While I was wearing the panties I was constantly reminded that I was one step closer to being the girl I had always desired to be. The idea my parents hated, yet my sister accepted. When she interrupted me prancing in her pretty panties she simply stood, evaluated the moment and then promptly left my room. Though I was surprised how she silently took the news, I was still fearful. I lied down to gather my thoughts because I figured Sis would go tell Mom what she witnessed, sending Mom and Dad on a rampage.

Lying on my bed in the pretty panties, I felt the veins in my neck jump as though chunks of ice were shot through them. I figured it was a nervous reaction since I probably shouldn’t have been thinking or doing such sinful things. But, it felt so right. I felt so comfortable in women’s clothing, though it was morally wrong for me to do so. At least that was what I was told several times, mainly by my parents. “People will make fun of you,” spewed from their conservative covered mouths, “do you want people to think you are weird? Or a faggot?” Yes, yes I did want people to think of me as a faggot, because I was. I didn’t know how else to show it, but as I lied on the bed in the pretty panties I felt my neck throbbing in fear of someone else opening the door. Fearful someone would find my faggot self lying on the bed in my sister’s lacy, black and eggplant, high-rise lingerie dreaming about being a girl.

At that moment, I promised myself, if I ever were a girl I would make myself thin, pretty, and perfect. Since the lacey lingerie made me feel comfortable in my own skin, I wore them whenever I could. I wore them when I was uncomfortable, I wore them hunting, I wore them to school on days I did not have to change for gym, I wore them to feel confident. I wore my sister’s lacy, black and eggplant, high-rise lingerie to feel like the girl I knew I was supposed to be.


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