My Life of Leotards, Lingerie, and More: Parts 4

Printer-friendly version

My Life of Leotards, Lingerie, and More

By Pacific Chris

The following is a true story, true in every way, except the names have been changed and the conversations have been paraphrased.

Part 4 – My Sister

So, things were going pretty good, even though I never had an actual orgasm (not that I knew what one was). But when I was 12, something great came into my life… Jane Fonda and the aerobics craze.

Oh, I didn’t do aerobics, but my sister did. She was 15, and wore a purple Danskin tank leotard for her aerobics. I never knew when she actually bought it, and never actually saw her wear it, but one day after school when no one else was home, it was left hanging to dry in the bathroom her and I shared. Wow, I HAD to put it on.

And so, with no one in the house, I did. I slipped my legs through the leg openings, pulled the straps over my shoulders, and I was in heaven. It felt SOOOOOO good on my body, my ass, my dick, and surprisingly my shoulders where the straps tugged. I rubbed my cock through the material, and it felt so good. For about 15 minutes, I just stood there, moving around, letting the spandex rub against me. Eventually, I pulled the material aside to let my cock out, and started using the massager on it. It didn’t take long for me to have one of my cum-less orgasms. It felt so good, I didn’t know that things could get better.

Not wanting to get caught, I took off the leotard and hung it back where it had been. The leotard became a semi-regular companion when I masturbated with the massager, but I always put it back wherever it was when I was done.

But one day when I was still 12, I guess my “biological clock” started. When I orgasmed, white come actually came out. While this surprised me and made the orgasm 10 times better, it also resulted in the leotard being totally covered in come! I couldn’t put the leotard back in her drawer now. I did my best to wash it in the bathroom sink, and then I hung it in my closet sandwiched between other clothes to dry, hoping no one would see it there and also hoping my sister wouldn’t notice her missing leotard for one day.

No such luck. Later during dinner when everyone was home, my sister said to my mom that she couldn’t find her leotard. But THEN she said she thought that maybe she had left it at school, or lost it at aerobics class. Besides, she said, it was getting too small anyway, and needed a new one. Oh my God, I thought, could this actually work out for me? Here I was worried about getting caught, and suddenly I realized that I could keep the leotard. Under my mattress it went.

After school, or at night, I would wear the leotard and masturbate with the massager and/or my hand, and then I would come on a towel I laid across my leotard-covered stomach. Not long after, I started to sleep in the leotard, usually masturbating before sleeping, and then masturbating in the morning when I woke up in my outfit. As my parents had given us locks on our doors, getting caught in “my” leotard wasn’t a problem. And the leotard had one other benefit… it could help keep my Brut bottles in my ass without having to lie on my back. Not only did it make jerking off better, but now I could jerk off in different positions without the bottle slipping out.

A couple of weeks later, I was passing my sister’s room, and she was in there looking at a flyer that came in the newspaper from an aerobics store (they had those back then). My sister was looking over what new leotard to buy. My cock twitched like crazy just then.

Grabbing some courage, I said “Whatcha doin’?”

Very innocently (girls can sometimes be so naïve about boys’ how look at female bodies), she passed me the flyer and said “I can’t figure out what outfit to get.”

Trying to hide my extreme nervousness, I looked over the page she had open for a little bit. “Hmmm,” I said, trying to sound thoughtful. Then my mind slipped back to my days with the babysitter; could I get something out of this? I already had my own leotard now, could I get another?

“It’s no fair,” I whined. “Girls get to wear such great outfits when they work out.”

“What do you mean? These are girls clothes,” she replied.

“Yeah, but guys would wear them if they could. Look how comfortable they look, and with such a variety of colors and styles. But guys would NEVER admit it.”

“Really? Would you wear something like this when you work out?” she asked. I guess it hadn’t occurred to her that although I played lots of sports, she had never actually seen me “work out”, because like most boys at that age I never did.

Seeing my “in”, I went for it.

“Sure, and we could work out together,” I replied. “Keep each other motivated. But… I could never go in a store to buy this, even with my own money. I would die of embarrassment.”

“Oh I’d LOVE to have someone else to work out with,” she replied with excitement and a big smile. “Here, let’s pick out our outfits, and then I’ll go buy them tomorrow.”

As I said, this is a true story… my sister helped me pick out my leotard. Even now, I look back and think this is crazy how this worked out for me, especially because my sister and I weren’t THAT close otherwise.

And so, we spent the next 10 or 15 minutes looking through this flyer and picking out our upcoming purchases. She quickly settled on a two-toned short-sleeved number. I already had her tank leotard hidden away, and I knew I was pushing my luck with a more-feminine camisole leotard, so I decided that a long-sleeve leotard was the way to go. Then I saw one with an attached skirt, and suddenly I realized that there was no way I could wear a leotard in front of my sister with my bulge visible, especially because I knew that I would have an erection at least some of the time.

“I should get this one,” I said as I pointed to the red long-sleeved skirted leotard. “I would feel better with a little bit of… covering.” I neglected to point out that a pair of shorts over my leotard would have accomplished the same thing. “I think I also need some leg coverings for the same reason.” I wanted to appear a little innocent still, so I avoided the word “tights” even though I knew it.

“Oh, some tights, good idea! I need a new pair, too.”

Oh my God, I couldn’t believe how well this worked. Sure enough, the next day she returned late in the afternoon from the mall with some bags from the aerobics store. She brought me my new leotard and a package of white tights, and said that we should have our first workout tonight, after Mom and Dad left for the football game they were going to. She showed me the receipt and I paid her from my paper route money, a transaction so amazingly casual, like I was chipping in half for a parent’s birthday present.

I took my new items to my room and put them in a drawer, then decided to do my homework right then, so my night was free. I think it was the first time I ever did my homework before dinner. I was so distracted, however, and it took me forever to finish it.

After our parents left, I wanted so bad to change into my new outfit, but at the same time I was very scared. How was my sister going to REALLY react? Was this a ploy to embarrass me? Was she really as naïve as she was acting? I waited in my room. A few minutes later she walked by my bedroom door and stopped. “Hurray up, silly! You’re not going to back out now.” She went to her room and closed the door.

Grabbing my new items and all my courage, I closed my door and stripped, then slipped on my new tights. My erection was totally at attention, pressed by the tights against my lower abdomen. I put on the leotard, took it off again to remove the sticky tag that covers the crotch, then put it on again. I didn’t have a mirror in my room (I was a young boy, remember), but I figured it I had everything on correctly. Then a knock at my door.

“Hurry up! Let’s go,” said my sister.

I was suddenly mentally freaking out for a moment. Not only was I about to walk out into the hallway wearing tights and leotard for my sister to see, but my sister herself was also wearing tights and a leotard. Wow.

I opened the door and stood in front of her, almost certainly blushing like crazy. Her neutral expression changed to a small giggle, then she said “Let’s go” as she walked away, my eyes transfixed on her taut, teenage body in her skin-tight leotard and tights. This isn’t a story of incest; I really had no lust for my sister normally, but this was a perfect female body in an amazing situation for me, you have to admit. Thank God my leotard was skirted.

So we went downstairs to the family room, and she popped in a tape to the VCR, which turned out to be one of Jane Fonda’s workout videos. We ran through the workout, sometimes side-by-side facing the TV, but sometimes we had to stagger her in front of me when we needed to go horizontal. I went behind her originally, and I spent much more time looking at her hard body gyrating in her spandex covering than watching the video. But she was taller than me at that age, and she said she should go behind so I could see the TV better. Probably a good idea for me anyway; if I looked at her leotard and tights-covered body much longer, I was probably going to ejaculate right there. And the image of all the girls on the video was still pretty great.

The workout was fine, not too tough for a fit kid like me. One thing I noticed was that as I put effort into the workout and moved around a lot, my erection not only disappeared, but much of my non-erection bulge did too. I didn’t do any manual shuffling of my genitals, but after a while my balls seemed to flatten out a bit, as did my penis. Even to this day, working out in a leotard and tights seems to make my genital area semi-flat and almost girl-like. Almost.

Before I knew it, the workout was over. She took out the tape, and turned to me.

“So how was it,” she asked.

“Good, I felt very motivated.” If only she realized HOW motivated I was.

“We should do this every day,” she said, then paused deliberately, looked nervously at her feet, and softly asked “Are you gay?”

Nearly every teenage boy would react angrily to his sister asking him that question, but let’s face it, I was standing in front of her wearing a skirted leotard and tights.

“No, not at all,” I replied. “I don’t like boys. I like girls. I can’t wait until I can start dating. It’s just… I like wearing this.”

“But how did you know you would?” A pause, then realization set across her face. “Oh my God, you took my other leotard! Why?”

I shrugged, and I told a small portion of the truth… that I’ve always been attracted to leotards since I was a small boy, and when I saw her leotard, I wanted to put it on, and after that I wanted to keep it myself. I admitted I had slept in the leotard as well. I left out everything about masturbating, obviously. I was worried about her reaction, especially since today had gone so well, but she just giggled, and then said that I owed her the money she had to spend on her new leotard. I gladly paid her back a week later after I made some more money from my paper route.

And so everything was good, and we continued to do our workouts for years, usually after school but occasionally at night if our parents went out. My sister liked the arrangement because since I was motivated to work out, it helped keep her motivated as well. She had her own life with her own friends and generally didn’t associate with me outside the home like most older sisters with their younger brothers. But a few times we headed to the dance store to look at new leotards and occasionally buy a new one. In all, I ended up with four leotards, her original tank leotard (which she never actually saw me wear), the original long sleeve skirted leotard, plus a short sleeved skirted leotard, and a black UNSKIRTED tank ballet-style black leotard. This last one was her idea; she got the same leotard herself, as she had bought a beginning ballet tape and insisted I learn ballet basics with her. I was very uncomfortable with this idea, since my now full-grown bulge would be much more visible. In a nervous but subtle way, I told her of my hesitation.

“Oh, I won’t look, silly. You’re just my brother,” she insisted.

Not wanting to mess up my great arrangement, I went along with it, but this time I wore my white tights OVER the leotard like guys in ballet apparently did. It didn’t help much, my erection seemed to me to be fully visible. I didn’t get why we couldn’t just wear our regular leotards to do ballet; they’ve functionally the same!

She didn’t make any comment when she saw me dressed with the tights on the outside, but as we got doing the basic moves in the video, I noticed that my tights kept slipping down. Without the leotard to hold them up, I had to constantly tug at them. It was distracting for both of us. She paused the tape.

“Why don’t you just wear the tights underneath,” she said, more a request than a question.

Sighing, I went back to my room and swapped my outfit around. I walked out, and while my erection was probably only at 50%, she clearly noticed.

“How come you always get an erection when we work out?”

ALWAYS? Wow. Clearly, the skirted leotards hadn’t hide my bulge as much as I had thought.

I blushed and mumbled an “I dunno, it just happens.”

But at least from that point on, I wasn’t as worried about whether she noticed my erection when we worked out. Clearly she had. No sense worrying about it when we both know it. So there we were, teenage brother and sister, now wearing identical leotards and tights, doing simple ballet moves. Crazy.

While we bought our leotards at the dance store (their selection was vastly superior to any of the local department stores), we regularly bought our tights from Sears, which had the brand we liked at a cheap price. Like most department stores, their hosiery department was right beside their lingerie, and like most teenage boys (regardless of whether they liked to dress up or not), my eyes would occasionally glance over to the lingerie.

On one trip to the store, my sister wandered over to the lingerie area, and was looking at bras, and then over to some one-piece lacy garments, similar in designed to a leotard or one-piece bathing suit. She motioned with her head for me to come over.

“This is a teddy,” she said as he held the black garment up by the hanger. “Do you like it?”

“What do you mean, do I like it?”

“Well,” she paused, “leotards aren’t really meant for sleeping. A teddy is.”

I could have ejaculated in my pants right there.

“Do you think I should?” I asked, semi-innocently.

“Your birthday is coming up,” she reminded me. “It could be my birthday present for you. You just shouldn’t open it up in front of Mom and Dad.”

Yes, this is a true story… my teenage sister bought me a teddy for my birthday. The 11 days between when she bought it and when I got to open it (she even wrapped it for me) were the longest 11 days in my life.

After school on my birthday, my sister presented me with the present and I tried to be as cool and calm as possible as I opened it. I realized it wasn’t the same teddy. As I took it out of the box, I first noticed the “boob area” was less defined and lacked the cups the other one had. I looked up at her.

“The first one I bought had underwires,” she replied in response to my unasked question. “Those wouldn’t make sense for you, and they’d probably bug you in your sleep. So I took it back and exchanged it for this.” Years later I would come to realize that she probably had to beg them for the exchange, since that usually wasn’t allowed with lingerie for health reasons.

As I finished pulling the teddy from the box, I noticed that a package of black stockings was underneath it. Oh my God. This was the greatest day of my life. I again looked up at my sister, blushing and smiling wildly on the inside.

“I’ll have to show you how to clip those on,” she said. I hadn’t noticed until just then that the teddy had attached garters. My sister had bought me a teddy with garters and stockings to sleep in! Our parents were home that night, so she waited until they went to bed and then stuck her head into my room and told me to get dressed, so she could show me how the garters work. Truth be told, I played hockey, and I knew how garters worked because hockey equipment included much more durable garters to hold up our long hockey socks. But I didn’t remind her of that (or she didn’t know).

I slipped on the teddy, and it was a totally different experience from leotards. It was lacier, and unlike the tank leotard, the shoulder straps were thin and adjustable, very much like a bra. They also didn’t really stretch like a leotard, so they were a little loose on me. I put the stockings on my legs just like my tights, but I did not attach the garters. After a few minutes, my sister came in and locked the door behind her. She first adjusted the shoulder straps for me, balancing out the “tug” on my shoulders, and then moved down to “show me” how to put the garters on the stockings. This was incredible; as she was doing this, her hands were amazingly close to my teddy-enclosed cock.

“Oh my God, you’ve got an erection,” she whispered loudly in mock disgust.

“Uh, yeah, and why would that be a surprise?”

She finished clipping on my stockings, then turned and sat beside me on the edge of my bed. She was clearly still curious about this part of my life.

“So you’re not gay, but you get excited wearing leotards and teddies. I don’t totally understand.”

“Neither do I,” I admitted. “It’s not like I want to dress in other kinds of women’s clothes. I just like this stuff.”

“Are you going to masturbate when I leave?”

Oh God, such embarrassment.

We talked a little more, including about masturbating (she was a virgin, but made a small admission that she had masturbated before). Until recently, she had no idea that a guy could find certain women’s clothing to be sexually exciting. I certainly didn’t tell her everything, especially the Brut bottles, my babysitter when I was younger, and especially my experience with Dan years earlier.

After she left my room, I locked the door and lied down on my bed, dressed in my teddy and stockings that my sister had bought for me and helped dress me in. It felt much more feminine than the leotard and tights, likely because unlike those outfits, a straight man could NEVER have a “real” excuse to wear a teddy and stockings without his sexuality at least being questioned. I jerked off several times throughout the night, always keeping a small towel handy to make sure I never made a mess of my new outfit.

Over time, I probably slept in my leotards more than my teddy, simply because they were less trouble getting in and out of on a nightly basis, and they were a little more flexible during sleep. But the teddy was still my overall favorite, especially because it was a gift from my great sister. The teddy was also my preferred outfit when I masturbated with my small Brut bottle in my ass, because it was less stretchy and tended to keep it shoved all the way in there, while it occasionally slipped out when I wore the leotards and tights.

In spite of my revelations of sexual excitement, my sister and I still worked out regularly in our outfits. Surprisingly, my sister never seemed to clue in that although I was never attracted to her as herself (remember that this isn’t a story of incest), I was tremendously turned on by her fit teenage body wrapped in a leotard and tights; I just imagined the body was someone else’s.

She agreed to keep this our secret. And as far as I know, she always has. Since she moved out of my parent’s home after high school, we’ve NEVER talked about this together. We got in absolutely amazing shape, and life was good. It was about to get even better.

up
149 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos