Did I simply pile all my daintiest clothing on the bed to sleep on it all?

Now I see that I am in a posh lingerie store, and incredibly, they have a huge wicker bin that is full of all their sale items. I see incredibly low prices marked on these things that I love so much. All the prices are in German! But they are low: 2 DM, 4DM. I think to myself, this must be a dream. Of course, it is.

I don't even look at the sizes, which for some reason are also listed as 2DM, 4DM and so on. I know, just by holding them, that they will fit. But how to carry it all away! I clutch the soft silky items to my chest, my free hand searching for only the prettiest and most expensive things...all now priced at a dollar or two. Garterbelts! Peignoirs! Teddies! Each new treasure gladdens my heart in a way only those aching to wear them know.

I notice a rival across the way, someone else who is buying these things and might take away some of the best. It is not a woman, or a sister like me, it is a man, very handsome and young, with a strong chin, dark hair and blue eyes, and he's hesitantly picking out panties and holding them up, embarrassed. He looks over to me.

"They're a gift," he says, "for a lady."

I smile and shake my head, "No." Then, I add, "You don't have to say that if it isn't true."

He's right next to me, holding up a pair of nylon panties that are almost entirely made of lace. Now that I have told him it is all right for a male to love panties, his voice is confidential, urgent.

"I want to wear these, myself! Do you think they'll fit me?"

Expertly, I find the tag on the seam at the side.

"4. No. It's 4DM. You need at least a 6."

"6. Is that what you wear? I think I might be the same size as you."

I lower my eyes, and don't say anything.

He is now close enough to kiss me. I watch his lips move.

"You are a woman," he says softly. "Aren't you?"

"No."

"You look very much like a woman."

"No. I am not."

I seem to be in his apartment, in his bedroom. I have spread all of my frilly underwear and exotic lace on the bed, and I am enumerating each one, describing them in detail, seemingly inventing names for every item.

"Show me how to wear these," he says, holding his very first garterbelt and a pair of shimmery stockings still in the square little package.

"It is like this," I say, on my knees before him, swirling the stockings up his smooth legs. "You do not want to touch them with your fingernails, just your fingertips, like I'm doing. Does this feel nice to you?"

He nods his head breathlessly. I arrange the stocking tops at his thighs, and smile as his penis begins to slowly throb into hardness, just inches from my face. I sink my mouth down, and he moans.

Very quickly, he fills my mouth with wetness. I swallow it all down in one soft, luxurious gulp. It is like the bursting vanilla creme middle of a fine piece of filled chocolate. I kiss the tip of his penis, and then, wrapping the garterbelt around his waist, I tell him, "You fasten the clasps in front, so you can see. Then you simply rotate it around, like so. Maybe when you become more of an expert, you can fasten it from the back!"

He is smiling, a shy smile. And he is erect again.

"You are very young," I say, "you are very sweet. I like having a boy like you. Do you need a lesson in how to enter a woman like me? You do it...from the back."

I watch myself wearing not only a garterbelt and stockings, but a flowing white lace nightgown that bunches up around my waist as I expose my round bottom for him. I am wearing six inch high heels to bed, glistening white ones. I have on a brassiere that is very large for me, but seems to be filled with what, I imagine, must be my own large white breasts enlarged from the excitement of being with this young man.

He looks so lovely in the garterbelt and stockings. He wears nothing else, and, in dream logic, sitting in a chair near the bed, I watch him pleasure me. He does it very slowly, pulling out almost completely each time he thrusts, tucking himself back in and shoveling all the way.

I gasp in little girlish chirps each time he goes all the way in.

And each time I feel his penis pulsate the liquid into me, he whispers my name.

"Mylene!" a gush.

"Mylene!" a gush.

"Mylene!" a gush.

He spurts over and over, whispering my name over and over.

I whispered his name in my dream.