I was about 9 years old or so when I began to notice our next door neighbour Penny. She was a very pretty blonde-haired woman who dressed very smartly in the latest fashions. It was the dresses that she wore which particularly attracted me, for in the 1950s women tended to dress in pretty and very full shirt-waister dresses and skirts with cinched waists, supported by multi-layered bouffant petticoats. I noticed with excitement how Penny’s skirts swayed when she walked, how the hem would lift to reveal layers of white lace, so exquisitely feminine, and how the different layers of skirt and petticoat rustled. I also noticed the faint wafts of her perfume which also made my head spin and gave me a strange feeling which I hadn’t experienced before. I would watch her closely whenever she came to see my Mother and would try to get close to her so that I could indulge all my senses to the full. I yearned to smell that perfume, to hear the swishing of her clothes, dreaming of her glorious petticoats as they rubbed against her stockings and skirts, and the glimpses of petticoat lace which came and went as the hem of her skirts swayed, lifted, twisted and fell. I could not take my eyes off her and her clothes and I am sure she must have been aware of my interest, excitement and closeness to her. She was not yet aware, I am sure, of my yearning to see, hear, touch and smell her most intimate garments alone.

There were times when I could indulge my pleasures for female clothing, especially when my Mother or I persuaded Penny to stay a while and sit down to talk. I watched intently as she sat down in a chair, sweeping her skirts under her. I was able to listen to the rustling, crackling sounds of her underthings, the crackle of what I discovered later was paper nylon and the swishing of her multi-layered petticoats. I would sit at her feet as she was speaking to my Mother and gaze upwards at her, allowing my eyes, when she looked away from me, to feast on the layer upon layer of frilly lace petticoat hems. How I longed to feel the exquisite materials, to rub the lace between my fingers, to indulge my senses by enveloping myself in the folds of these intimate underpinnings and to find out what the whole frilly garments looked like, even to wear them myself. I remember becoming light-headed and immensely excited at the thought of perhaps one day being able to get close to and touch her bouffant petticoats. Perhaps one day my dreams would come true, but I couldn’t see how that could happen.

The years passed and I was able to occasionally indulge some of my pleasures when I found my mothers slips and petticoats in the airing cupboard and I was able to sneak a passing touch. She did not have any bouffant petticoats, a great disappointment to me, but I did manage on one occasion to rub against her petticoat as she was drying me after a bath. The feeling of satin caressing my skin and the aroma of her scent was electrifying, and my Mother gave me a sideways glance as I involuntarily gasped with delight when the sensuous silk satin momentarily caressed my body.

I was also able, as these were the days when girls and women regularly wore full skirts with masses of crinoline petticoats, to watch the girls in school position themselves when they sat down at their desks and gaze in amazement as they turned to talk to others without keeping control of their skirt hems. The occasional glimpse of lace ribbon hems and net was enough to sustain me through the day. I saw older women in the streets as they walked around, with swinging hips lifting their skirt hems to reveal masses of lace which could only be the hems of bouffant petticoats underneath. I even joined in the conversation when they discussed how they starched their petticoats, to make them stand out stiffly, and how many they were able to wear under their skirts at any one time. Some said that they could wear 3 or 4 bouffant petticoats and that their skirts would stand out so far that they had difficulty walking through doors or sitting down in chairs. I silently sighed with longing and as time went by, yearned to try out these things for myself.

I digress. It was in September, just after my 11^th birthday, when the day arrived which was to change my life. Penny and her husband had gone on holiday and my Mother was looking after their cat. This involved feeding it once a day during the morning when I was at school. On this particular day, my Mother got a phone call at 8 o’clock from a friend who said she had been going up to town for the day shopping with a friend but the friend had had to drop out at the last minute and would my Mother like to go. My Mother said she would, so I was told to get my own breakfast, feed the cat next door and then go to school. I don’t really know initially why, but my heartbeat started to race as my brain began to work overtime. My Mother left in her friend’s car and I was on my own. With rising excitement, I phoned up the school and with a handkerchief over the mouthpiece, told the secretary that I would not be coming to school today because of a sore throat. I then went upstairs and had a long and luxurious bath. I slipped on a tracksuit and armed with the Penny’s back door key, went to feed the cat, knowing that I was really going there for another reason altogether. I had been dreaming of seeing for myself, the awesome array of skirts and petticoats which I knew Penny must have and the time had come. The thought of it made me breathless and light headed. I quickly got some food out of the fridge, fed the cat and closing the kitchen door behind me, ran up the stairs to the bedroom I knew was Penny’s. I went straight to the wardrobe and opened it. There they all were, a lovely range of bouffant circle skirts, some of which I had seen her wear in the past year and some I had not. I was unable to control my feelings as I stroked them one by one and held them to my nose, inhaling the sweet aroma of her perfume which still lingered in the many folds. My eyes wandered along the rack until in the far corner I saw the object of my dreams, her supply of bouffant petticoats, previously seen only in part with intermittent glimpses of petticoat lace at the hem and the sound of paper nylon and the swish of rustling taffeta. Here they were in all their glory.

What self control I had disappeared when I saw these lovely underthings and I tore off my clothes in a frenzy of excitement and, in a breathless and highly uncontrolled state, went to the wardrobe and took the petticoats off their hangers one by one, rubbing them in turn against my body and feeling the exquisite texture of all the material. I felt my breathing getting shallow as I was caressed by the sumptuous silks, satins and lace. I gazed in awe at the different layers of these wonderful garments. Three of them were similar, having 2 or 3 layers of tiered organdie with lace at each tier and at the hem. I saw one was black, the second white and the third pink. The 4^th bouffant petticoat was completely different and simply luscious. It comprised 5 layers, the top was of embroidered pink satin with a deep lace hem in white, the second layer was glistening purple taffeta, then there were 2 layers of pink nylon net with lace hems of pink and finally a tiered under-layer of paper nylon, which crackled at the slightest touch. I drew it to my face a rubbed it against me, sending tingles through my entire body. I could stand it no longer. I placed all these bouffant petticoats on the floor and fell squirming into them. The pleasure was complete and all enveloping. After a while I stood up and totally immersed in this wonderful pink bouffant creation, stepped into it and pulled it slowly up my body to the waist. The feelings were exquisite and I was lost in heaven. I looked at myself in the mirror and did a couple of twirls, watching the hems lift, at the same time hearing the sensuous sounds of the materials rubbing against each other. I went to the wardrobe and took a short circular evening skirt of dark blue taffeta from its hanger and slipped it over my head. It fell to the waist and I was adorned as I felt I also should have been. I smoothed it down carefully and noticed that it had its own underskirt of 2 layers of blue net. The bouffant petticoat was slightly longer, so half an inch of delicate lace appeared at the hem, exciting me beyond measure as I spun and twirled, watching the hem lift and the seeing the intimate revelations below. The paper nylon was harsh against my leg, and although delightful, I decided to move into a realm of Penny’s which I knew little about. I went over to her chest of drawers to try and find a slip to put under my clothes. I later discovered that women tend to have their underwear in one of the top two drawers and I found Penny’s petticoats in the right hand drawer, a lovely array of delicate femininity. I took out with great care a blue satin petticoat with rouleau straps, masses of blue lace around the bodice and hem. Having slipped the other clothes off, I pulled this petticoat over my head and felt the sheer sensuous delight as it smoothed itself over my skin. I admired myself in the mirror for a long time before stepping into and then pulling up the bouffant petticoat and skirt. There I was in all my feminine glory. I was totally at ease with myself and the fear of being caught had temporarily departed . I was in heaven. Although I didn’t know it, for the next 3 hours, I paraded in front of the mirror trying all the combinations I could imagine. I tried on some of Penny’s satin knickers in pink, blue and black, a suspender belt and stockings, and I dressed up in a black bra, placing a roll neck sweater on top. I even cinched my waist with a belt. I taught myself to walk without throwing the skirt hem too high, but enough to give a glimpse of petticoat lace, as Penny was able to do, and I learnt to sit on a chair in front of the mirror, without showing too much petticoat. I have to admit there were moments when in sheer delight, I would let the skirt hem ride up, so that I could indulge myself in the sheer delight of petticoat gazing and feast on the layer upon layer of curvaceous frilly hems. I twirled and twirled until I was dizzy, all the time gazing in rapture at the feminine clothes and underclothes in which I was adorned.

The time sped passed, without me noticing, as I remained in a high state of excited bliss. I did not hear the back door go. It was only when my Mother called up the stairs to see if I was there that I froze. "I thought I heard a water leak", I spluttered out. "Well check it carefully and then come home", she said. What panic and relief at the same time, although I secretly felt I would have loved my Mother to see me in all my borrowed finery. As carefully as I could, I folded up the knickers, suspender belt, bra, stockings and beautifully sensuous blue satin petticoat and put them back in the drawer I took them from, and inhaling my favourite pink bouffant petticoat against my nose, said a sad farewell to the skirt and bouffant pettis which I had come to adore over the last few hours. I looked at my watch and I saw I had been there for 5 hours. I rushed down the stairs and back home to my Mother, trying not to show my confusion at the thought of nearly being caught in female underclothes, but secretly aroused by the chance of being found out.

It was four weeks after my first encounter that my story took another strange turn. My parents one Friday night were summoned to a business evening which was to be a late function, so my Mother spoke to Penny next door, to see whether she could baby-sit, or more accurately, as I was 11 years old, keep an eye on me. Penny said she would and suggested that I should stay over with her, because of the late return of my parents. She said that her husband was away and she would be glad of my company. So, on the appointed evening, I went next door with my toothbrush and overnight bag, with a flush of excitement as I was secretly very fond of Penny and I admit, I had a crush on her, for she was very pretty, wore gorgeous smelling perfume and most of all, dressed in the loveliest full circle skirts and flouncy bouffant petticoats underneath. I knew because only 4 weeks earlier, I had worn those skirts and all 5 of her petticoats when I went to feed her dog, while she and her husband were on holiday. I hoped that tonight she would be dressed in one of her circle skirts accompanied by some scrumptious billowing petticoats. I could feel my excitement rising in anticipation as I knocked on her door.

Penny opened the door dressed in a pair of trousers and my heart dropped, although she looked very pretty with her hair in a ponytail and a pink lacy bra showing through a flimsy voile blouse. She looked delectable anyway, I told myself. She suggested I take my things up to the guest bedroom and then come down to watch TV. I went up the stairs, passing her bedroom where I had immersed myself in her feminine underthings. I had a secret desire to go in and touch the bouffant petticoats hanging in the wardrobe, but I did not have the courage and dropped off my things in the guest room and returned downstairs.

I sat on the sofa and Penny joined me. She was drinking a vodka and tonic and asked whether I would like one. She poured me a glass when I said I would, although I had never tasted vodka before. She hated being alone, she said, so she had already had two drinks. Until then, I hadn’t realised her husband had been away for 4 days.

The drink warmed me and I relaxed beside the object of my affections. We chatted about what I was doing at school and I felt after a time that Penny was teasing me. She then told me to watch TV as she had to disappear to do something. She would be back in a minute. I watched TV, inhaling her perfume as I sat on the sofa. A few minutes later, Penny came back into the room. I gasped as she entered, because she was wearing a dark blue taffeta evening skirt with an obvious frilly bouffant white petticoat peeping from underneath the skirt hem. "Oh, you look beautiful", I said before I realised what I had said. "Is that a new skirt and petticoat?" Penny said that it was a new outfit for a dance which she and Mack, her husband, were to attend in a few weeks time. She had put it on to get my reaction. "Your reaction was very positive", she smiled. What else could I have said; it was a heavenly skirt, it rustled when she moved and it was heavyweight material so that, as she walked, the skirt hem swished and moved, revealing glimpses of whispery white lace petticoat hem. In a trembling voice, I said it was quite lovely and asked her to give a twirl, which she did allowing the skirt hem to flick up to reveal her stoking tops, a glimpse of pink satin French knickers and a full 6 inches of flounced petticoat hems. Penny noticed my adoring amazement , a breathlessness and, although I was sitting down on the sofa, my obvious excitement with her appearance. She smiled knowingly and sat down beside me, sweeping her skirts under her. I nearly died from excitement. I was in heaven. The sound of the underskirts was dramatic, the swishing from the taffeta and crackling from the layer of paper nylon. What was even more exciting was the hem of the skirt fell over my lap as she sat down and my hands were suddenly being caressed by masses of lace, taffeta and net. I could hardly control myself and Penny noticed the effect all this was having on me. Suddenly she drew in her breath, laughed, and turning to me said, "Of course, it’s all clear to me now". "The chair left in my bedroom when we came back from holiday, in front of the mirror, and your comments about a new petticoat tonight". "The chair was not there for checking for a water leak, was it?" "You used that chair to sit on once you had put on my underwear". You dressed up in my skirts and petticoats, didn’t you". "And you knew tonight that the petticoat I am wearing was new because you have seen and dressed up in all my other ones". "Am I right", she said, looking straight at me.

I was dumbfounded, helpless and embarrassed and I felt tears begin to fill my eyes. She had found out about my deep secret and I there was nothing I could say. She then gave me a big smile and put her arm around me, stroking my hair and drawing me to her. I buried my face in her bosom, smelling her scent and I that calmed my worries to an extent and my embarrassment partially drain away. I stayed like that for maybe a minute before she eased her grip and looking into my eyes, said that I had better tell her the full story about my obviously strange behaviour.

I blurted out my life history, so relieved was I to get it off my chest. I told her how my Mother had dressed me in her underclothes from as early an age as I could remember, because she had always wanted a daughter. After having me, she was told that she could not have any more children, so the next best thing was to dress me as her daughter, which she had done until I went to school at the age of five. Wearing silk and satin petticoats and lacey silk knickers became synonymous with pleasing my Mother, and I came to love the gently soothing texture of her delicate underclothes, the glistening of the material as they caught the light, the contrast of the layers of lace and the feel of such wonderfully soft frilly things against my skin. When I had to revert to boy’s clothes, it was something which I could not understand and it left an indelible mark and trauma which I would never get over, but events in my early life had indelibly turned me into a lover of feminine underclothes and the excitement of wearing bouffant petticoats, crinolines and slips had a profound effect on me, more so than anything else.

Penny hugged me and said that she thought she fully understood my desires and asked me whether I would like to see the petticoat which she was wearing, laughingly saying that I knew all the others she had hanging in her wardrobe so there was no point showing me them. With that she lifted the hem of the taffeta skirt to reveal the most beautiful petticoat I had ever glimpsed, on top a layer of white patterned satin, in three tiers, with pretty white lace at the hem and pink silk ribbon on the two tiers. It was so pretty, that without realising, I put my hand out and gently stroked this beautiful piece of femininity, gasping in sheer pleasure at its beauty. Penny hugged me and lifted the satin layer to reveal a second and third layer of net, both with lace hems, then she showed me a layer of white taffeta with frothy lace hem, another layer of beribboned net and finally, at the bottom, a layer of pink paper nylon taffeta which gave body to the bouffant petticoat and provided the crackling sounds whenever she moved. I was in sheer heaven. I lost control, fell sideways and buried my face in this exquisite underthing, indulging my senses to the full, the smell of the material, the sounds of the crackling and swishing and the different feel of the satin, net and taffeta. Penny didn’t mind and stroked my head fondly. For the first time in 11 years I felt blissfully happy and content as I fell asleep.

It must have been an hour later when Penny woke me up and said it was time for us to go to bed. I went up to my room while she turned off the TV and locked the doors. I heard her come up the stairs and go into her room. I got into bed still trembling from the excitements of the evening, when Penny knocked on the door and said that I could do something for her in return. She was scared of sleeping on her own and would I keep her company in her bedroom. My love of petticoats and me sleeping in her bedroom would remain our secret. I jumped out of bed and went into her bedroom. As I got into her bed, Penny said that she had something for me and produced a long black shimmering satin nightie, which I noticed had lace shoulder straps and a wispy black lace hem. She told me to put in on as it would keep me warm. The feeling as I pulled this sensuous feminine delight over my head and allowing it to caress my body as it fell was unreal. The sheer pleasure of me dressed in such a lovely satin garment as I admired myself in the mirror was overwhelming. I got back into bed and watched as Penny undressed, taking off her cinched belt then her swishy taffeta skirt. She stood admiring herself in her white swinging bouffant petticoat, before she pulled it down to her ankles and stepped out of it. She was dressed only in her sexy white satin and lace French knickers, pulled tight over her bottom. She was so pretty, at that moment, I fell madly in love with her. Facing away from me, she undid and took off her blouse then released her lacy bra, before picking up a crimson satin nightdress which she lifted over her head and let fall the length of her body. She then jumped into bed and together we lay, side by side, feeling the sensuous materials caressing our bodies and revelling in the sheer feminine delight which can only be enjoyed by lovers of female underclothes. I fell into the most blissful sleep of my life, only awakening when Penny reminded me that I had to leave for school in 30 minutes and suggesting that I remove my nightie, for safekeeping.

After breakfast, I thanked her for all her kindness and I told her she had made me the happiest person alive. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and said that she had a number of ideas for me if I would like to be her petticoat boy and told me to think of a female name to be called when I was dressed up. "It has to be Eleanore", I said, as I went out of the door, chuckling to think that that was the name my Mother told me I would have been called, had I been a girl.

So happy was I, that I bounced along the pavement to school, without noticing a thing, for I was dreaming of what things Penny would devise for me in the coming weeks.