A brief monologue on the subject of Panties.

I almost never wore dresses growing up.  I had a few - mostly for
church functions and holidays - but they were almost never worn.
(My dad belonged to the first Church of the NFL, so church meant
weddings and funerals.)  When I was about  11, I got a few sun
dresses. They were so pretty I was almost afraid to wear them and
call me naïve but I never thought about them in terms of boys
looking up them or anything.

One day though, my very best friend Billie Raye came over to
play.  I didn't have a word for what Billie was in my vocabulary
back then, but well... Billie was different.  Even at a very
young age, everyone could tell he was (as they said in town)
"born with the wrong parts."  I think you know what that means.

At the time I'm not sure how much registered, but we'd played
dolls and done the tea party thing together and let's just say
gender differences never came up.

Anyway, one day Billie came over and we were messing around and
he disappeared in my closet and came out about 2 minutes later
wearing my sundress and underneath it he was clearly poking out
in a way that reminded both us of that we didn't share the
private parts.   He wasn't embarrassed at all. He was hard as a
fucking rock and laughing like a maniac.

I wasn't embarrassed either, instead I got a little mad. Billie
had tried on my undershirts before any stretched them out and I
was afraid he'd ruin my pretty dress, and I was also scared that
he was wearing my underwear and I didn't have many pairs. So I
was yelling at him and he was giggling and running away.

Anyway, he tired of teasing me and tugged up the dress in front
of me and I could see he was wearing his guy underwear.  He also
grabbed his cock and and jerked it a bit and was laughing the
whole time.  I wasn't completely stupid so I knew it meant that
he was horny.  I had never ever thought about Billie in that way
before ever.

Nothing happened and, no, I didn't get a look at his cock, but
after he did get his clothes on we had a serious conversation -
our first - about sexuality about how that dress made him feel. 
He explained that knowing he was almost naked was what made him
that way. Just that little dress and no pants on - anyone could
see him if they just looked up his skirt.

That maybe stuck.  I never thought about wearing a dress without
remembering I was almost naked underneath.

That thinking led me to my first piece of underclothes that
didn't come 3 for $2 from the Woolworth store. Nothing special
but better than the cotton ones that were cut the same as those
I'd been wearing since I was out of diapers.  No one that I know
ever did try to look up those dresses but if they had they would
have seen big girl panties.

Fast forward about 3 years.  I had grown up and out.  We were
still broke, so the underwear still came from the Five and Dime,
but the boys were looking at me then and I was enjoying it
usually.  (Not under my dress - not that I know of - I just mean
that I'd become a woman and guys noticed.

That spring we had to go to a wedding of one of dads bosses and
they bought me my first dress that was definitely an adult one -
cocktail dress cut though a little longer at the skirt and in a
deep forest green.  It was a hot dress and I felt sexy wearing it
- probably the first time in my life I really felt that way.

I got invited to dance at the wedding and well, the boy was
grinding on me a bit and I liked it.  A lot.  So much so that I
got my first case of wet panties.
I had masturbated a bit - so I knew how things worked down there
- but never imagined that I could wind up wet in public - and I
could smell myself and I was kind of horrified.  I went into the
bathroom and tried to dry myself off, but the scent was there and
so I put the pants in a small bag I kept tampons in so they
didn't get wet in the rain and put them in my purse.

I spent the whole rest of that day making sure my dress wouldn't
sneak up and went I sat my parents told me not to fidget.  It was
intoxicating. Dirty. Liberating. Even more so because a bunch of
us had snuck drinks from the spiked punch and I was a bit tipsy.
I'd never felt anything like it and it actually scared me a
little.  I didn't want to be one of those girls.

After that I didn't wear dresses much but when I did I wore
underwear.  I finally showed a man the panties under my dress the
night I lost my virginity but not before.

I probably didn't wear a dress 10 times in the next 10 years, but
when I did start again I was living my new life with my new
husband.  He was absolutely revolted when I revealed I didn't
even have a bra and panty set that matched nor things like
cocktail dresses, long gowns, etc.  So I ended up spending a lot
of money on lingerie and dresses that year.  We went out to
dinner with clients constantly so I wore dresses probably 3
nights a week.

Good lingerie, they say, is made for taking off, and it was
pretty rare that my underwear made it home at the end of an
evening in other than in his pocket, my purse or under the car
seat.  I always started off wearing them but either he would tug
them off or I would at some point.  I learned the simple power of
telling him that I wasn't wearing any and saw the way that it
would totally change his attitude.

This was a good lesson - he was starting a business then and it
was pretty intense at times - he is a good man but he could get
pretty irritable when he hadn't had enough sleep which was often.
 Handing him my underwear after a trip to the bathroom more than
once sidelined a fight that was clearly brewing.

I found that when he enjoyed my not wearing underwear I ended up
enjoying not wearing underwear.  (He was a pretty good lover -
still is.)  Maybe it's a pavlovs dog kind of conditioning, but
after a while I figured out I could turn around a bad day just by
losing my underwear, even when he was on the other side of the
world.

I was in college then, and it was mostly a jeans environment.  I
was actually gaining weight which was a new experience for me,
and with my rounding posterior, panty lines started becoming an
issue.  Unless I wore either grannie big cut or the little bitty
ones that I've never actually found comfortable, I'd be in the
middle of campus and become aware that I had ass stripes showing
through the material in the rear of my jeans. So I would go to
the bathroom and take them off.   I found the tightness of the
jeans and the rough denim material touching my bare skin to be
very stimulating.

I will always remember the first time I was totally stressed
before a big test and realized that when I ducked into a bathroom
and took of my panties a few hours before class, that stress
melted away.  It was like a revelation. I did very well on that
test.

For all I have mentioned that my husband loved it when I let him
know I was going without knickers, his dirty little secret is
that the closest thing he's got to a fetish is seeing me in very
elaborate panties.  (His favorite are the longer classic cut
white silk ones like the girls in last 60's Playboys wore - he
admitted the source of his attraction one day.)

There are also a lot of other good reasons to wear underwear and
I still do just about all the time.  Winter winds off  Puget
Sound alone make it a good  idea - going commando underneath a
skirt can be chilly when walking down the streets.

But sometimes though, when I am having a bad day or have an
important meeting coming up I'm nervous about, I'll just reach
down at my desk and drop them off.  (I did this more than once
even when I worked in a cube - it was kind of a fun thing and I
would have died had I ever been caught.)

I'm not an exhibitionist - I don't go ride around jumping rope or
climb ladders or anything.  No shoe store salesperson has stories
to tell about seeing Twyla's twat.  I just do it for me.

On occasion, though, I will go for lunch and forget about my
pantsless status and travel the many escalators and glass walled
upper floors of shopping mall and office buildings.  These
travels could provide a lucky few with a good viewing angle.  I
catch myself on occasion standing at the top of a stairway
landing or near a railing of a elevated walkway, and when I do
take a moment to realize my situation, I don't work very hard to
take elevators instead. There's something a bit thrilling about
the idea that I might be being admired for my "southern charms."

My husband often says "neckties are a great source of enjoyment -
once removed" and I feel the same way sometimes about underwear.
If he only knew of my pantie-less travels through the heart of
Seattle during my everyday routine, I'm not sure whether he would
like it or not.