A CROSSDRESSING APPRENTICESHIP

I went to a boarding school . Contrary to public perception it was not a hotbed of buggery . Actually the only instance of it I knew of was hearing a slightly distressed call from another boy ( we slept in dormitories with eight beds ) when another more physically mature boy had climbed into his bed . I was falling asleep as this happened and did not track the outcome .

Of course as we progressed through puberty sex - masturbation - was common ; pretty much daily ,and joyful accusations - 'you were wanking ' or jokes about stiff underpants were part of everyday talk . Our access to girls was limited and in that time acceptable sex was groping at a maximum . I found stockings and garter belts fascinating - but had only fleeting encounters with them , and did not then have a sense of wanting to wear them on myself . Panties were even less accessible as touching a vagina was an unreachable goal . The girls boarding school whence came our dates had a dress code which included underwear . Navy blues were the rule . And these we could see as they doubled as athletic running wear for the girls at sports days .

Since , those thick cotton underpants no longer interest me , but in those early days I focussed on them particularly the way the material pleated as it attached to the elastic of the waist and the legs . I became skilled at drawing navy blues - with the wearer portrayed only as the belly and thighs - the garment being sufficient for a frisson , the girl unimportant .

A second visible array of panties was in the windows of lingerie shops . I found these strongly erotic , but could not do any lingering window shopping . From the top deck of a bus I would get tantalyzing glimpses of lace and nylon . Wanting to wear panties surfaced gradually , and the thought of possessing a pair became food for masturbation .

I am assuming that you , the reader , is well aware of the power of sexual longing . In my case fear of discovery balanced that power for some years , but finally I had to have a pair . Heart racing I descended to the lower floor of Marks and Spencer and selected a pair from the nearest display . Prepared with correct change I managed to leave the cashier without making eye contact with her , and putting behind the shameful thought of what she was thinking of me , on the bus back I could not resist looking inside the paper bag at my treasure .

Fortunately the size was appropriate and those blue bikini style panties had only to be donned for me to be within seconds of an orgasm . I loved the feel - only slightly marred by an appliqué at the front where instead of the slide of nylon the stiffer material overlay my penis .

With more years ( and the infrequent addition of new panties ) my mental masturbation card files began to include having a tell-tale margin of the panties being noted by a man and the thrilling possibilities arising from this deliberate flash .