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The Neighbour’s Knickers – Part 4

Babes

It was the wolf-whistle which started it. Justine looked across at me sharply. “See?” My heart had been beating out of my chest from the moment I’d stepped out of the front door dressed as Petra. What had been private had, at that point become very, very public. Anyone could have seen me. “But they won’t see you, Peter,” Justine had said with utmost confidence. “They’ll see a schoolgirl in her gym kit.” “Not if they take a peek under my skirt.” Justine’s blue gym knickers were strained to bursting point by my throbbing erection. For all the fear, there was overwhelming excitement at being outside for the first time in female clothes. I was literally outing myself as a cross-dresser. “It is exciting,” Justine said, smiling at herself in a reflection of the porch windows as she re-arranged her boobs within the too-tight-top. Having checked her own boobs, she checked-out my fake chest coconuts. Black pumps. Flat. White socks. Knee high. Pleated skirt. Grey. Knickers. Blue. Cotton jersey. White. Bra. White. Our uniforms matched completely. The only difference was the cups of my bra were filled with soft-feel silicon inserts, whereas the cups of Justine’s bra were filled with real breasts. B cups. Justine had come to appreciate her breasts in a different light; before she’d caught me trying on this very uniform in her bedroom, Justine had felt that her breasts were a little on the small side. It was an informed judgement, given that newspaper articles were reporting that the average bust measurement was 36DD. Justine had admitted to feeling inadequate right until the moment she had made me squeeze my male chest into her bra. Since that moment, the soft-feel silicon inserts had been exclusively available for my use. I’d never thought that isvecbahis I’d be wearing them as we walked down the road together. “How do you feel, Petra?” “Scared shitless. Excited.” “I have to admit that for a guy, you make a really cute girl. I’m getting a little aroused watching you myself.” “Is that what this is about?” I asked. “Imagine what it’s going to feel like, Petra, when I get you home and push my big fake cock deep into your arse and wank you off into my knickers.” I did as I was told. Imagined. My knees almost buckled at the thought. “And remember the private slumber party,” Justine continued as we turned onto the high street. “With me and the girls… and you, Petra. Me sharing you with them.” It was something which Justine had brought up again and again: the next time her parents were away, she’d invite all her female friends round and… It had been a different scenario each time. Sometimes Justine thought she’d keep my cock under wraps and the fun would be playing the game together, keeping the secret against her friends. However, most of the time, Justine’s fantasies concentrated on how she would make the big reveal and how her friends would react. How would Justine’s friends react when they saw Petra’s cock? Petra’s cock was aching so badly that I wasn’t paying as much attention to my surroundings as I should have been. “That was for us,” Justine said. “What was?” “That wolf whistle.” The wolf whistle. The calling card of builders everywhere. I’d heard them a thousand times but I’d never paid them much attention. And I’d certainly never been the recipient of one. But there he was in the bus stop we’d walked past, looking out. No: he wasn’t looking. He was leering. Not at me; but rather at the school-girl version isveçbahis giriş of me. “Come-on, Petra, let’s go and have some fun,” Justine said, pulling me back the way we’d come. “Juzzy!” Justine stopped. “What did you call me?” My brain was empty and I had to think about the shape that my mouth had formed. “Juzzy?” “Since when was I ‘Juzzy’?” “I… err.” In my head: that’s where the reality of ‘Mistress Justine’ had softened into the teenage fantasy of ‘Juzzy’ – the kind of girl who had ‘normal’ nuzzly sex, rather than pounding, pornographic sex. “Sometimes I like to think about us having a more normal boyfriend/girlfriend type of relationship.” “I’m not your boyfriend, Petra.” ‘Juzzy’ ran that last comment back through her head and smiled. “Or something like that. Now you just keep your mouth shut until I tell you, OK?” I smiled a reply as we made our final approach. Would I pass for a schoolgirl? The way the schoolboy swallowed his fear told me that it was a definite possibility: I remembered that fear; here he was suddenly outnumbered and outgunned. “Wotcha?” Justine said, with an up-flick of her chin. The tone made it sound like an off-hand-generic-greeting as well as an interrogation as to the schoolboy’s intent. Are you friend or foe? I felt a pang of common suffering as the testosterone-fuelled Adam’s apple tried to hide in the lad’s throat. My laryngeal prominence was safely hidden behind an upturned collar. “Listen… I didn’t mean nuffink.” “So you don’t fink we’s fit?” Justine challenged, sounding as though she was chewing gum. The Adam’s apple headed South once again. “I didn’t mean -” “So you do fink we’s fit?” Justine did something subtle with her tits which made the boy’s eyes bulge. “You sixteen, yeah?” “Yeah.” isveçbahis yeni giriş “You better not be shitting me…” “I ain’t shitting you.” “Coz me and Petra here was finking about piping some 16-year-old cock, wasn’t we, Pets?” I nodded, too shocked to say anything. “And yoz bein’ 16 an’ all.” The boy fumbled for his wallet and presented his bus pass. “Nice one, Michael.” Justine glanced in my direction. “So… you’s up fer it, or what? Getting piped by Petra?” That last was surely for my benefit, especially as it was accompanied by a sneaky grab and squeeze of my knicker-clad cock. Michael looked at me. Surely this would be the moment I was to be exposed? Unfrocked. It was all very well playing games in the safety of Justine’s bedroom… I thought… But I was underestimating the desire of a schoolboy to get his cock sucked by a real girl; since I wasn’t a real girl, I understood that need better than any schoolgirl would have done. The blinding mist of desperation and desire rising uncontrolled from the loins… If I was Michael, I would have jumped at the chance as well: who knew what was making these girls behave like pimped-up prostitutes? And how long it would last. When I was 16, just talking to girls was amazing. Justine jostling her tits like that would have been enough for a season’s worth of wank fantasies…. Like a lot of schoolboys, to get my cock actually touched by a girl was unthinkable. Michael looked as though he fell into that category. He didn’t look too closely; didn’t see past the make-up or the scared eyes. “Where?” That was all he wanted to know; where we were going to do the dirty deed. Where? That was all I wanted to know too. “Back o’ Woolies,” Justine replied. Woolworths hadn’t been there since 2009 but everyone still called it ‘Woolies’. I could tell Justine was loving it, even though she was careful to show only her poker face. She’d dressed me, done my make-up and had now passed the schoolboy test. As Justine led me by the hand, Michael followed eagerly.

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