Panty-Juicing in the Street    by Prim

I was in town the other day with my friend Suzanne for a meeting of the church committee and what should we see in the High Street but two big girls wearing very fussy party dresses. I say big girls, but it turned out they weren't girls at all. "Look at them, Suzanne," I said as we got up close, "it's two of those weird men from the sissy school in the park. They're pretending to be girls." They both had exaggerated girls' hair-dos and their dresses were ridiculously short. In fact we found ourselves staring at the panties they were wearing. "Edna," said Suzanne, "their panties are stretched over male erections. I'm going to get to the bottom of this." I wouldn't have said anything, but before I could stop her she got hold of one fellow's bare arm to get his attention. "Excuse me," she said, "I see that your panties are stretched out in front. Is that because you are very excited about the feminine clothes and lingerie you're wearing?" You should have seen his face when she asked this. You would have to describe him as pretty. It was a girl's face and it was rapidly turning bright red as he put his white gloves to his cheeks with embarrassment. "Oh dear," he whimpered as he turned away from us towards his partner, but Edna took his arm again, saying: "Don't turn away from me when I'm talking to you. I asked you if you feel sexual pleasure, wearing a girl's dress, and I expect an answer." Would you believe it but her words made the sissy start crying. He wanted to cover his face but Suzanne had hold of his arm so we were able to watch him weeping and blushing in front of us. The other sissy was agitated too and put his arm round his friend as if to soothe him, and it was at that moment that a couple of real girls - they must have been about twenty - came up close to the other 'girl' and said: "You're a sissy from the Frilly Dress Institute, aren't you? What's your name?" He wanted to turn away from her and escape along the street, but the four of us had them sort of surrounded so he stood holding hands with his friend and squirmed with humiliation in front of us. "M-My name ith Waymond Piper," he murmured in a tiny voice, "and thith ith Cathpian Hollith." "Raymond and Caspian?" said the girl with a chuckle. "Oh come on," said her friend, "You're both girls, we can see that. You must have girls' names." The sissies stood in a pathetic cringe together as if to find some shared courage to answer the questions from the superior women around them. Then the first one, Caspian Hollis, said: "M-My name ith Felithity, sob - sob." And after a moment the other one replied, "and my name ith M-M-Melody-Jayne." He wasn't quite crying like his partner but his voice was very close. "But we were asking you if your lovely dresses make you excited?" I said, and you didn't answer me, which is very rude." "It certainly is," said Suzanne. "I think you get stiff in your penises when ladies talk to you about looking like girls. Come on now, lift up your dresses and show your panties to us." The two of them squirmed with anguish in the middle of us and looked at each other as if trying to make up their minds. Then, with their knees pressed together and their heads hanging with misery, they softly lifted the edges of their dresses and petticoats and revealed how their panties had become unbelievably more stretched than they were to start with. "Oh my God!" cried one of the girls. "They're both close to cumming!" declared the other. And it was as the two demaled sissies held their dresses out of the way for us to watch that their panty-points began jerking vigorously. Droplets of white cum pushed into sight, then started pumping, until the full force of their squirting was spraying from the front of their panties. It went on and on as they stood there, squirming and crying in front of their tormentors. I can honestly say that Suzanne and I had never seen such a display of unsexed effeminate disgrace in our whole lives.

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