Every step he took reminded him ofEmily's lace lined cotton panties. He cursed himself for allowing her tomake him wear it. Her logic could not be fau...ted though. It wasunhygienic and improper to not change his briefs. What surprised himmost that there was not much discomfort. The lace line was a bitticklish occasionally and having been made without his penis in mind, itwas a bit tight at the front. The most embarrassing moment came when hestopped by the restroom and ensuring no one was there,. I’d screw up on oral exams for the bar, because I’d suddenly be reciting my son’s abuse.”She stopped, and looked worried. “Am I talking too much?”“No.” Her tale fascinated me. It was entirely different than my own.“When puberty hit, at thirteen thank the gods, his verbal lashings turned sexual. I was a cunt, a piece of junk fit only for cocks that didn’t give a shit. He’d complain about the clothes I wore, calling them slut suits. They were modest business dress. I found myself donating them to. More

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