She walked back to the drawers in the closet. When she returned, she was holding a pair of white stockings, with lace ruffles at the tops."I'll help y...u put these on -- we don't want to rip them! Come sit on the bed." I did just that, and again savored the feeling of sexy, soft fabric climbing up my leg. I was almost giddy with the joy of it; a feeling of girly glee washed over me. Mommy clipped the stockings in place. I began to grow again.And suddenly I realized that this couldn't be her bra!. Smart move. Then for a couple seconds I was lying there, on the bed, conflicted, debating whether to run after you saying that I changed my mind. “But I hate it - but if I say I want it then he won’t be forcing me and what’s the point in that - but.. why the fuck do I want to do it anyway - no, I don’t want to, really - it’s disgusting - but.. what is wrong with me?” These thoughts and others similar to them were running through my mind and then it was too late, and I was regretting it. A. More

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