Crossdressing shopping spree at Victoria’s Secret.
I took a trip this weekend to visit a friend who works as a dominatrix and taught me a lot of what I know today. I’ve mentioned her in other blogs because we’re pretty much DBFF: “Domme Best Friends Forever.” Cute, right? Yeah I know . . . but not as cute as the panty boy I helped her sissy was when we were finished crossdressing him!
He had never been to Victoria’s Secret before. So he was the kind of closet queen that only dared to buy panties under false pretenses, clandestinely. Using a self-checkout . . . and always prepared with an excuse if anyone should ask, of course. He was SUCH a basic sissy that his best one was just the classic:
“They’re for my girlfriend.”
All I know is if I was someone’s girlfriend and they had the audacity to bring me home some cheap, unsexy granny panty-esque thing from Wal-Mart. Well, let’s just say that lie wouldn’t have fooled ANYONE if he’d ever actually used it!!
It was like he’d died and gone to heaven as soon as we walked through the pillars into that fragrant, pricy panty oasis. He was nervous, of course, but my friend held his hand. She was his fake girlfriend, his beard for the afternoon. But as anyone could tell by looking at him (which, naturally, we told him explicitly and REPEATEDLY later). He was not fooling anyone . . . this crossdressing faggot wannabe was *queerly* as gay as the day is long.
Or alternately: as gay as his itty bitty clitty was small!
Not only did he have a gait like a show pony, but the tenderness with which his long, slender fingers grazed each pair of panties was pretty much a dead giveaway. And I was definitely excited to make this eager panty boy‘s crossdressing dreams cum true!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
