SPECIAL SQUARE DANCE SESSION

Warning to those who care: Contains sexually explicit material!


"PETTI PIE'S " SPECIAL SQUARE DANCE SESSION

When I was a teenager, my folks joined a square dance club and began taking an active interest in square dancing as a hobby. Within a few months, my mom had collected a few dresses, petticoats and pettipants. I always thought she looked exceptionally pretty in them, and was particularly fond of a cute blue one that had white lace around the neck, pouf sleeves and skirt ruffle.

I was old enough to stay home alone and do homework on the nights that they went out dancing. I soon realized that on the nights that they were taking lessons, I could be fairly comfortable that they would not return home for a full 3 hours. After a few weeks of internal agony over whether I was about to commit some horrible sin, I finally decided one night that I was going to try on one of the dresses.

Standing in front of my mom's closet, I took the dresses out one by one and held them up in front of me. I knew the blue one would be the one I would pick, but it was fun to see how the others looked. I got very aroused by just touching the fabrics, holding the dresses against my body with one hand and swishing the skirts around with the other. Finally, I took the blue one into my room, along with a full blue petticoat, a soft nylon white petticoat
and a pair of white mid-thigh pettipants.

In my room, I laid the things out on my bed and took off all my clothes. Seeing how erect I was, I figured I had to do something to prevent "leaking" anything onto my mom's clothes that she might detect later. So, I went down the hall to the bathroom and gathered 6 or 7 tissues. Taking them back to my room, I slipped on the pettipants, pulling them up to just below my crotch. After wrapping the tissues around me, I then pulled up the pettipants the rest of the way, such that they pressed against the tissues, holding everything in place. I wasn't sure whether to pull the petticoats over my head and shoulders and pull them down, or whether to step into them and pull them up. I picked up the white one and decided to try stepping into it. It pulled up quite easily, the elastic waist being similar to the stretchy kind in the pettipants. It felt fantastic! I couldn't help gathering the folds of it in my hands and holding it out, over and over. It was mesmerizing to hold it daintily near the bottom and slowly pull the fabric up, such that it glided over the lace ruffles of the pettipants. There was such a wonderfully tactile sensation in doing this, and the image of a kitten pawing around in a laundry basket came to mind.


The blue petticoat was stiffer and stuck out more, so I pulled it over my head and pulled it down over the white one, being careful to spread it out evenly. I then tried twisting my hips back and forth so that the petticoats fluffed out and then settled into place. Next came the dress. I unzipped it quickly, pulled the dress over my head, put my arms through the sleeves and smoothed it into place. I wasn't used to zipping anything up my back, and it took me a while to get the dress zipped, but when I did I felt as if I had entered seventh heaven. The dress came with a wide white sash that I tied around my waist, making a large bow in front that I then slid around so that the bow was in back. I couldn't stop admiring myself in the mirror, running my hands over the material of the dress, pressing down on the
skirts, fingering the lace trimmings. I suddenly realized that I was "leaking" a little fluid, and I started to panic - what if the tissues had moved out of place? I tried laying on my back on the bed, and lifting all the petticoats in front up over my chest so that I could then lift up the
waist of the pettipant and check out what was going on. Sure enough, the tissues had bunched up somewhat, and I was worried that they would not catch everything that might come shooting out.

I took everything off and went to get some more tissues. As I passed by the hall linen closet, I remembered my mom's sewing basket was in there, so I decided to get a piece of ribbon to use to tie the tissues on snugger. While looking for the ribbon, I came across her rag bag. Fishing through it, I found an old white silk hankie with frilly lace trim. Taking the hankie and a piece of white satin ribbon into the bathroom, I pretended that I had a little doll between my legs and proceeded to dress her up as a bride! First came plenty of layers of tissues, that acted like little petticoats, next came the hankie-gown covering it all, followed by the ribbon wrapped around the whole affair covering my shaft and balls several
times and tied in a little bow in front.

Now I decided to go all the way. I went back to my mom's room and got a bra, some soft stockings to stuff into it, a beautiful old slip, some white support pantyhose, a white hair band, white lace gloves and a silver cross necklace. I contemplated trying on makeup, but was too concerned that I might get some of it on the clothes, so decided not. Back in my room, I put everything on and stood for several minutes in front of the mirror in absolute awe looking at what appeared to be an absolutely adorable girl gazing back at me. I was extremely aroused, but in a completely calm and peaceful way. When I would skim my lace covered hands over the fabric of the dress, I would barely touch it. All my movements seemed so delicate and refined. I put a pillow in the middle of my bed and got up on it, on my knees with the skirts spread out all around me, straddling the pillow between my thighs, and positioning such that I could see myself in the dresser mirror. Gently rocking my torso back and forth, touching my "breasts" gently, running my hands down my sides and up under the petticoats, breathing deeply and feeling electrified, I imagined that the pillow was the girl who lived next door, that she was dressed similarly, and that we were rubbing our crotches against each other - within minutes I proceeded to have a very long and intense orgasm better than anything I had ever imagined.

I collapsed back onto the bed and lay there in a euphoric state, sort of napping, for about 20 minutes. Then I realized I better get up and get everything put away exactly as I had found it. Of course, I repeated this for several more weeks whenever my folks were out, until one night disaster struck - the zipper got stuck, I could not get the dress off. I nearly had a heart attack, and the girl next door came over to rescue me......

HERE IT IS!

"PETTI PIE'S " SPECIAL SQUARE DANCE SESSION

PART II

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So, here is the story about the time with the girl next door . . .)


First, you have to understand the situation with the girl next door. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I'll ever completely understand it myself, but here goes. She was a little over a year older that me, but because of how our birthdays fell, she was two school grades ahead of me. When we were little, we played together a lot with all the other kids in our
neighborhood. There were about a dozen of us, who hung out for what seemed like endless summers, playing kickball, exploring the woods out back, riding bikes to a nearby lake for swimming - I guess we had a lot more freedom in those days than most kids today. Our folks definitely didn't feel the need to have us "chaperoned" at all times. It was a different era, in a small town setting, and there was an enormous amount of trust that we all had in each other.

Anyway, as the years went by, we all gradually drifted apart. When the girl next door moved up from elementary school to junior high (no one had heard of middle school in those days), it was a big change for her. She started hanging out with an older crowd, and getting into art and music and social issues. By the time she hit high school, her parents had caught her smoking pot, and a "Girl, Interrupted" situation evolved. They checked her into a troubled teens rehab place for half the summer. I guess that whole experience helped her in a way to see who her real friends were. The next school year, I noticed her being friendlier to the old gang. Just little things, like if we passed each other in the hall she would smile real big and say, "What's happening, man?" or flash me the peace sign and say, "Peace, baby". I knew she had been dating some senior guys, but the word around school was that, even though she was really pretty, she didn't put out, and so no one guy was really stuck on her.

Over the Christmas holidays that year, I was coming home one evening from dirt bike riding, and I noticed her standing in the edge of the woods out back where we used to play. I put my bike up, and walked out to where she was to see what was up. She was smoking a joint! She said, "You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

I acted cool, and laughed, "As long as you don't bogart it!" We relaxed, and had a long talk about all kinds of things happening in the world, stuff at school, concerts she had been to,
family stress at the holidays, favorite movies, whatever. It struck me that she was the closest thing to a sister that I'd ever have.

And so, on that fateful night of the zipper jam, as I worked through the most massive panic attack I have ever had, I eventually sat down crosslegged in the middle of my bed to meditate a bit and to try to calmly consider my options - I knew I had to have someone help me, and I knew she was the only one I could really trust.

I had no idea how truly mind-bending this was about to get. When I called her, I told her I had a "big, big problem" and I needed her help right away, but that she had to promise that she would never tell a soul. She got concerned, and was asking did I kill someone, did I start a fire, did I steal money, what was it? This went on for a while, with her trying to guess my problem, and me saying, "no, no, no one has been hurt or harmed in any way, just promise not to tell". Finally she promised, and I said, "Well, do you remember one time when we were about 9 or 10, one time at the park playground? Julie Jacobs was there, and she was talking about how her mom had made her brother wear a pair of her panties one time on a trip because his had gotten messed up?"

The girl next door said, somewhat exasperated, "Yeah, I remember. What's that got to do with anything?"

I said, "Well, I was thinking about that recently, and wondering what did it feel like to wear girls' clothes, so I put on one of my mom's square dance dresses and now the zipper is stuck and I can't get it off." I could hear her putting her hand over the mouthpiece while she laughed her head off.

Finally she came back on, "Don't worry, it's happened before to plenty of girls. I'll be right over with the pliers, o.k.? Bye."

The pliers! What an idiot I am, why hadn't I thought of that? Then I realized I probably couldn't have worked them adequately behind my back anyway. I waited for her by the back door, and saw her trotting across the back yard in her "hippie-dress" nightgown and bathrobe. She came in grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding up the needle-nosed pliers, right away saying, "Oh My God, I can't believe how CUTE you look! You're adorable!
Baby, you look so sweet."

I turned my back to her, pointing over my shoulder, and said, "Just see if you can get it unzipped, o.k.? Please."

She said, "Say pretty pleeeease."

"Pretty pleeeease," I said.

I felt her trying the zipper to no avail. Then she led me over to the couch, where the reading lamp provided better light. I sat on the edge, leaning forward, and she got on her knees behind and to one side of me. I heard her mutter, "I see the thread it's caught on", and then I felt her yank the zipper free with the pliers! "Great! Thanks!" I said, starting to
get up, when I felt her push down on my shoulder, saying "Not so fast."

"Wait a second," she said. "I just have to make sure these other loose threads are out of the way." She was slowly zipping the dress back up, then down again, then up again, up and down, then she left it zipped up and patted me on the back. "There, all fixed," she said, "but before I let you out of this get up, I have something I want to share with you, o.k.?"

She sat next to me on the couch, arranging my petticoats over us, and told me a story about a babysitting job she had once had, where the little boy and girl played dress-ups in hand-me-down peignoirs and had a tea party with her and lots of stuffed animals and how much fun she had had doing that, and how the mother had told her that Dr. Spock says it's o.k. for little boys to play dress-up as long as it's fun and there's no teasing or meanness
involved, as long as it's innocent, and how she had been remembering that incident lately, because some of the older boys she had been dating recently had turned out to be insensitive jerks, and she wondered if she'd ever find a guy who was as sweet as that little boy had been, like when he cuddled up next to her to have a story read, and now here she was, next to me, telling me a story . . .

She was getting real dreamy-eyed, and I could tell she wanted to be kissed, so I leaned closer to her lips, and before I knew it, she was teaching me everything there is to know about French Kissing. Our hands were going everywhere, and I guess the reality of it all hit home with her when I got a hand under her nightdress and could feel her sopping through her panties, because she suddenly reached behind me, unzipped the square dance dress,
hugged me tight, stood up and said, "I've got to go. I'll never tell a soul, if you don't."

I can't even begin to describe all the emotions I felt, as I walked her to the door. Embarrassed? Elated? Blessed? Crushed? Ecstatic? Frustrated? In Love? I had an entire Lilith Fair going on inside me.

She kissed me sweetly on the cheek, and I watched her run home.

I lost track of her during our college years. Her dad got transferred to another state, and after a few Christmas cards, our folks lost touch. At my 25th high school reunion, someone had heard that she was living in a big city, and had "come out" as a lipstick lesbian. Wherever she is, I hope she knows that I'll always have a special place for her in my heart, and, now that I've told a soul, it's o.k. if she does, too.




This little "SSDS" is not mine but was found, OK!
As much as I love Square dancing I wish I was younger?