Turnabout is Fair Play
I don't know what it is about me that makes people think I am gay.
Sure, I'm only 5' 6" and weigh 130 pounds; am shy around girls and display undue reverence towards alpha males and older men - but that doesn't mean I'm gay, does it?
Yeah, okay, I admit it -- I am a compulsive masturbator and some of my fantasies involve men's dicks, but that doesn't automatically make me gay, right?
No, not at all. Yes, I am a little on the kinky side - ever since puberty I have what I guess is called a fetish -- I have a fondness for women's lingerie, but all that means is I might be a crossdresser, and as far as I know most crossdressers are not gay.
Okay, okay, yes, I do give my roommate Mike handjobs once or twice a day, but only because I have to, not because I want to. If I don't do it, he'll post online the photos and video he took of me when he spied on me wearing a pink negligee and matching panties. Now THAT would be humiliating!
***
Mike and I have been best friends since we were ten-years old. Maybe I have a faulty memory, but I swear the first few years I was the alpha male between us. I was the one who decided what we'd do after school and on weekends.
That all changed once we entered our mid-teens and grew into manhood. At least Mike grew into a man. I didn't have much of a growth spurt and remained small and boyish looking.
He suddenly took charge in our friendship and I was an eager follower. Don't get me wrong, there was nothing sexual about our friendship; Mike was a good-looking, horn-dog who would have dated the prettiest girls in our class if he hadn't been as shy and insecure as me.
We were close all throughout high school and by the time we graduated we knew our families couldn't afford to send us to college, so it seemed natural for us to get jobs and share an apartment.
Everything went well the first couple months or so before he made that video of me.
We treated each other with the same respect we always had. We shared the housework and cooking, and since Mike could pass for being twenty-one, he'd bring home the booze and we'd get sloshed together. I had managed to keep my lingerie fetish a secret from him but then I became careless.
I made an online purchase of five pairs of nylon panties that would be sent to our address. That works fine - I always get home before Mike anyway and check the mail. When the small plastic bag arrives, I'll be there to retrieve it before Mike does. Okay, so far so good.
Allow me to digress...I guess the real problem is I don't beat-off like normal guys do. I don't stroke my dick, I never even touch it. You see, I wasn't circumcised and discovered by accident how much more powerful my ejaculations are by grinding my dick into the mattress and cumming inside the foreskin. OH-MY-GOD -- I was hooked for life!
Well, maybe that's not the real problem...no, I guess the real problem came when I found out how wonderful my mother's nylon panties felt when I wrapped them around my boner. Oh my God, I'd never felt anything like it!!
It seemed a natural progression from stroking myself with them to putting them on and grinding my dick into the mattress. Yessssss - I cannot describe the power of my orgasms that method has given me over the years!!
Getting back to the story at hand, so to speak, I got carried away one night and not only ordered five more pairs of nylon panties, but three sheer and sexy negligees, too. I couldn't wait for that package to arrive!
***
About a week later Mike was in the kitchen, it was his turn to make dinner; I was on the sofa having a drink.
Our doorbell sounded and Mike called out, "I'll get it." I heard him greet our landlord, Mister Hopper, then a muffled exchange between them. When Mike walked into the living room he had a huge smile on his face and was softly chuckling.
"What's so funny?" I asked him.
"This is," he replied showing me a large plastic bag.
I recognized the logo on the package. Icy chills raced up and down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. I became paralyzed with embarrassment.
"This wouldn't fit in our mailbox and Mister Hopper signed for it," he said still smiling.
I was at a loss for words. All I could manage to say was, "Uhhh, okay, what is it?"
"Well, it's from 'Adore Me' lingerie, and it has your name on it!" he said with that damn smirk still plastered on his face.
This time I had a quick answer: "Oh good, you know the cotton briefs I wear? I order them online from that company!"
"Sure is a big package for a few pairs of undies!" he remarked.
I hopped up and snatched the bag from him. "I'll go put these away," I said and hurried into my bedroom.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I buried them in a box in my closet. All I knew was this could be bad -- very, very bad! I'd die if Mike found out my dirty secret.
Mike was online when I returned to the living room. The moment I sat down, he said, "This is real interesting, Johnny..."
I cringed when he said 'Johnny,' he hasn't called me that since I told him years ago I didn't like that name.
"Oh, why?" I asked him nonchalantly.
"On your companies website they don't mention a thing about selling men's underwear -- they only sell for women!" he said. "What's really in the bag, Johnny? Did you buy women's underwear from them?"
My face burned red. "MIKE, what the hell are you talking about?" I protested.
"Johnny-Johnny-Johnny -- you don't have to be embarrassed with me...I don't give a rats-ass what kind of undies you wear -- that's strictly YOUR business!" he said sympathetically.
I stammered, "Nooooo, really...I uhhhh..."
"Johnny, we've been best friends forever, we've always told each other the truth so please don't insult me now by lying to me -- we tell each other everything - did you or did you not buy women's panties?" he softly asked me.
He wasn't even looking at me. He was busy typing something on the computer.
"Mike, please, let's talk about something else, okay?" I said trying to sound upbeat.
"No, I don't think so...answer my question Johnny, do you or do you not love to wear women's panties?" he said.
Huh? What? He changed the wording to make it sound dirtier than before. I couldn't bring myself to answer that question.
"JOHNNY -- come over here and look at what I'm doing!" he said loudly.
I sighed in resignation. I stood behind him and read the screen. He was about to send an email. Again, the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. The email was addressed to all of our friends, and oh-oh, to my family, too.
The subject line read: "Johnny is a Sissyboy-Crossdresser." My heart skipped a beat. The text of the email read: "Did you know Johnny LOVES to wear women's PANTIES???? Please forward this email to ALL of our friends and classmates!!"
In a small and pitiful voice I pleaded, "Please don't send this Mike, please don't do this..."
He said in an even voice, "Answer my question and I won't send this -- do you or do you not love wearing women's panties?"
Oh God, again with that language.
"Okay, here goes...: he said then maneuvered the cursor over 'Send.'
"Okay, okay, okay--I like women's panties!" I blurted out to stop him from sending the email.