As a teenager, I dressed in my mother's and sister's clothes whenever I was home alone.
One afternoon, my mother and sister went out and I figured I had an hour or so to dress pretty, so as soon as I saw them leave, I stripped off my boyswear and made a beeline for my mother's dresser. Within minutes, I had on her Playtex bra, Maidenform girdle and was snapping a pair of her nylons onto the girdle's built-in garters.
My sister had a new dress that I was dying to try on, so I headed upstairs to her bedroom, found the dress in her closet and slipped it over my head.
My mother had a pair of high heel pumps that I thought would look darling with the dress, so I went back downstairs to my parent's bedroom, located the heels and slipped them on my nylon stocking feet.
As I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in my parent's bedroom admiring myself in all my girly glory, I heard a car pull into the driveway.
Oh, no!
I assumed it was my mother and sister returning home, so I knew I had a couple of minutes to change and stash the womenswear because my mother had to back the car down our narrow driveway, get out of the car to unlock and open the garage door, carefully drive the car into our narrow garage and then close the garage door.
I ran upstairs to my bedroom, stripped off the womenswear, dressed in boyswear and hung my sister's dress in her closet. There was no time to return my mother's stuff to her dresser, so I stashed them in my bedroom figuring I could return them later.
What a close call!
A few minutes later, my mother asked me to come downstairs. So I went and found her in her bedroom holding up the pair of high heels I had borrowed.
In my panic, I had literally jumped out of her shoes and left them on the floor in front of the full-length mirror.
She asked me why her shoes were out of the closet.
Back then, I was a budding artist and sketched a lot, so I told her I borrowed the shoes so I could sketch a picture of high heel shoes.
She accepted my excuse, but in retrospect, I suspect she had an inkling about what was going on, but did not want to confront me without harder evidence.
I wish she had. It might have been a life-changing moment.
Do you have a story about being caught in the act that you would like to share with Femulate readers? If so, pass it along and I will post it here in the very near future.
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Wearing Pamella Roland. |
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Johnny Mangum, professional femulator |