The idea titillated me- your wide shoulders, height, and overall presence is so hegemonically masculine that delicate womens' panties on you seemed delightfully incongruous.
And yet... when I first saw them on you, white with pink accents as rope was wrapped around your body and you began to fly, they seemed right, natural.
It makes me smile now, as we chat, thinking of you in the pretty panties you just showed me, and want to take you shopping.
I want to walk with you through the lingerie sections of those expensive stores while the saleswomen sniff and look down their noses at everyone, running my fingers over the various scraps of satin, silk, and lace. I want you to follow on my heels like a good boy, for all the world like a heteronormative boyfriend being dragged on a shopping trip by his petite little girlfriend. I want to hold up the scraps of silk and lace, the cute little thongs, the brightly colored boy shorts, the soft bikinis up to you, asking your opinion while you blush and smile.
Then I want to choose the pairs we both like, in sizes clearly too large for my tiny frame, and watch you blush as the saleswoman stammers and opens a dressing room with hands that shake with either jealousy or fury.
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