I use to wear ladies underwear for the best part of a year, when several ex`s ago found a matching French knickers and suspender set with fishnet stockings on the bedroom floor, and she asked `Who the hell do these belong to?` and I sheepishly replied `Me`
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That reminds me....
A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand. She hires one, and within a couple of weeks, the ranch is running smoothly and he's doing a great job.
One Saturday night, the widow said to the hired hand, "You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels." The hired hand readily agreed.
One o'clock came, however, and he didn't return. Two o'clock and no hired hand. Finally around two-thirty he comes stumbling into the ranchhouse to find the rancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him.
She quietly called him over to her.
"Unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said.
Trembling, he did as she directed. "Now take off my boots."
He did as she asked, ever so slowly. "Now take off my socks."
He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.
"Now take off my skirt."
He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.
"Now take off my bra." Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.
"Now the panties," she said, staring directly into his eyes, "and if you ever wear my clothes into town again, you're fired."