I was eighteen years old and ready to have the night of my life: The Debutante Ball. Around me, I saw many guys dressed exactly the same as me. My dat..., Sophie, stepped out of the limo behind me and I offered my elbow for her to hold. We graciously moved up the front steps and into the hall. God, she looked stunning that night. Everything about her was perfect. Her strawberry blonde hair was curled and seemed to move in an imaginary breeze, hanging loosely and framing her face. She wore a pale. Something messy sounded appealing, but getting every strand inplace while looking like you just got out of bed is harder than itsounds. I put it off for later.In our bedroom, I dug through the dresser for a while, settling on silkpanties. At first it felt seemed odd, but after a moment of thinking theidea trying to pull boxers p over my hips seemed even sillier. It took afew moments to properly tuck my junk in the narrow crotch, but that gaveme time to appreciate how the underwear felt against. More

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