The Panty Princess

Jane and I had only been living together for three weeks when I was caught red-handed. I was mortified when I saw her in the mirror, standing behind me with her mouth wide open. She had managed to come through the front door, up the stairs and into the bedroom without making any noise. I tried to explain that it was the first time I?d ever done such a thing, but she was having none of it. For the next hour we sat on the edge of the bed while she bombarded me with questions about my sexuality, how long I?d been doing it, why I was doing it, whether I?d been forced or coerced as a child, and if I really expected her to accept such perverted behaviour. During that painful hour, I sat there with my bathrobe wrapped around me, still wearing her white lace French knickers and matching bra underneath. I squirmed at her questions, answering with short sentences, all the time blushing brightly and wondering when we would leave me alone to change out of her underwear. At nineteen years old, I had been busted for the first time, even though I had quite some experience of borrowing Jane?s undies, and my older sister?s while growing up. There was something about being dressing up as a girl that stimulated my senses, making me feel sexy, horny and yet somehow complete all at the same time. My slim figure with practically no body hair and my fair complexion made it quite easy for me to pass as a young girl, especially when wearing makeup. I had a collection of photos of me on my computer, in which I swear nobody would have been able to tell if I was a boy or a girl. ?You?re a total pervert!? she said finally, standing up and walking out of the bedroom, ?I need to think about this.? Now that the grilling kaçak iddaa was over, I became very scared of what would happen next. As I got changed back into my own clothes I thought about the prospect of Jane leaving me. I was terrified. Jane was the most beautiful and intelligent girl I had ever met. I had flashbacks of seeing her for the first time, her long dark hair, her beautiful dark brown eyes and pouty lips. She had a terrific body too, with ample breasts and a slim waist. I remembered watching her walk away from the table that night we were in the restaurant together, seeing her cute round butt swaying beneath that clingy little black dress, and the slenderness of her tanned legs beneath those sheer stockings. Jane was four years older than me, and much more worldly-wise than me. She was constantly teaching me new things and introducing me to new and interesting people, but she was never a snob. I hoped she would forgive me for my behaviour and that we could continue our lives together. --- When I walked back into the living room, Jane was sitting there with a magazine in her hands. She looked up at me with an icy stare that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to walk toward the door, thinking it would probably be best if I left the house for a while. ?Where are you going?? she asked sternly. ?I?m just going to take care of some things in the yard.? I replied. ?No, you?re not!? she said, raising her voice, ?You?re not going anywhere until I know what else you?ve been up to!? I knew that I had no choice. When Jane got upset she was in control. If I had left the room she would have pursued me into the garden, and if I didn?t comply with her demands, she would make it her mission kaçak bahis to find a way to make me regret it. I immediately understood the risk, and could picture her on the phone to my mother, telling her how she had caught me in her panties and bra, and how I had been dressing up in my sister?s clothes since I was a boy. I sat down in the armchair opposite her, my arms folded in resignation, and waited for more questioning. Stupidly I had thought that one hour of Q