When I was a teenage boy, I tried on my mother’s girdle.
I loved the thrill of doing something so wrong and loved the feel of it on me.
There was no forgetting what I was wearing when I had it on – that tight grip on my belly, my backside, my thighs it was a constant thrilling reminder of my perversion, my breaking of the rules.
I eventually stole a really formidable one from my aunt and occasionally wore it at school.
She was slightly smaller than me so it was a good tight fit!
The idea of being seen in it started to fascinate me.
It became an obsession.
So one day when a group of three girls from the class below me were walking a few yards behind me I impulsively turned round, unfastened my trousers and dropped them, lifted my shirt and let them see me in my bright white, firm control, heavy panelled, high waist, long leg panty girdle.
And, as if they couldn’t see for themselves, I announced like an idiot that I was wearing a panty girdle.
The looks on their faces!
Then they started to laugh and I realised with horror how stupid I’d been.
I frantically dressed and ran off to the sounds of their taunts as they screamed with laughter.
Of course they told their classmates.
As I stood with my friends, one of them came over, pointed at me and told them what I was wearing.
I was petrified. I imagined them pulling down my trousers to see.
Hell, a tap on my taut backside would have told them all they needed to know.
But they never did check, though they taunted me mercilessly for months afterwards.
I got all sorts of nicknames, the most common one being The Corset Kid.
Eventually it all died down.
But, even during the worst of it, I continued to wear my girdle regularly at school.
A masochistic part of me wanted them to check!
So, if any of them see this and recognise the story then I freely admit that it was all true.
I was (and still am) The Corset Kid!
