Lifted Laundry

My name is Robert and I have a confession. I stole some woman’s bra and panties. It isn’t what you’re thinking though. I’m sure you think they were taken from a conquest as a trophy, or as part of a frat initiation stunt, but the simple truth is that I stole them outright. Honestly I had not ever planned to do it, or anything like it. It just kind of happened. I saw the opportunity and I did it.

Everyone steals something at least one time.

Right?

Okay, it happened one day several years ago because I went to the Laundromat. It sat a street over from our apartment, on the opposite end of the street, so it’s not too far. Jordan had been sick and throwing up the night before, so there was too much stuff to wash in our little apartment sized washer, so after my wife left to take her to the doctor’s office I loaded everything into the car and ran down to the Laundromat.

After I got everything going I came back home and cleaned the carpet. My wife and daughter made it back, and the doctor said she just had a 24 hour bug and that she should be fine by the next day. Since she had to work that afternoon and she knew I had to go and get the laundry back to the house she called her mother and arranged for her to watch her until I was done.

So we all left, June taking Jordan to drop her off on her way back to work, and me going back to the Laundromat. I walked back inside with everything I needed for the clothes and to keep me occupied as they dried. Inside the bushel bucket I carried the clothes in were fabric softener sheets, a roll of quarters, my lighter and a pack of Marlboro Medium, and a copy of William W. Johnstone’s Toy Cemetery.

I got to work transferring the wet clothes from the washing machines to the dryers. As always when at the Laundromat you have to be glad the dryers are so large, because they can take two or three washers worth in one depending on how big the loads you’re washing are. But, anyhow, I got them started and lit a cigarette, intent only on sitting and reading my book as I waited.

I had only gotten a chapter or two further than I had been before they came in. It was a pair of young women, best friends or roommates. One was tall and slender, with pale skin and curly red hair, and the other was short and chunky with black hair that curled around at her cheek line. They looked as if they were in their 20′s. Apparently they had already been in earlier, because they took some clothes from one of the far dryers and folded them. Then the redhead took some more clothes from the last washer on the end and put them into another dryer.

“Wanna get McDonald’s?,” I heard the short brunette ask.

“That’s all the way in St. Joe,” the redhead replied. “Couldn’t we just get Hardee’s?”

I suppose I should mention that at the time we lived in Savannah, Missouri, which is a really small town with barely anything in it, but sadly not the smallest town in Andrew County. If you wanted anything from a major fast food chain, or if you wanted to do any decent grocery shopping you have to go to St. Joseph, which is between 15 and 25 miles away depending on the route you take.

“We can pick up some stuff at the fight for food place while we’re there,” the pudgy girl suggested.

“Okay, but what about this?”

I looked over the top of my penny dreadful horror novel to see the redhead was indicating the load of clothes now spinning and floating up to the glass door of the dryer.

“Like who would steal our clothes?,” her friend asked.

Well certainly not me.

But at the moment I didn’t realize how quickly I would make myself into a liar.

“Okay,” the redhead said. “Let’s drop this at the house first.”

A minute later I watched them walk out the door, a couple of thin laundry baskets in their arms. I put out my cigarette and lit another, turning my attention back to my book. Outside I heard the engine of their car start, and glancing out of the corner of my eye I saw them back out of their parking spot.

Once they had been gone about five minutes my mind was turning. When I was 16 I still liked to play dress up. Yes, I know, maybe a little beyond the age that it was appropriate. I had for the longest time imagined I was a girl. Everyone I went to school with had picked on me and called me a sissy and a fag, and I thought it would be better for me if I could turn into a girl.

When I had dressed up when I had been younger though, the one thing I always lacked was under-things. My mother had humored me a little bit, picking up a dress or blouse here and there at the second hand store, but bras and panties were out of the question. One night I heard her talking to my aunt about my desire to dress up like a girl all they way, and she told my aunt she was considering taking me to see someone about my problem.

After I heard that I hid me desire to dress in girl’s things and be a girl. But it didn’t mean I stopped wanting to. It didn’t keep me from sometimes dreaming about having a sex change, so I could really be a girl and meet a nice man to love me.

As I sat there alone in the Laundromat I suddenly realized I had been presented with an opportunity. I sat my book down, knowing that if nothing else I was still curious. I rose from the row of bolted down hard plastic chairs, and a little nervously, made my way to the end of the row of dryers. I honestly had no intention of stealing anything. I just wanted to see what those girls’ panties looked like.

I opened the dryer door and the drum stopped spinning. As if by magic, when the clothes came to rest, there was a pair of light yellow panties sitting at the edge of the pile by the door. I reached down to them, my hand shaking a little. Lifting them out I realized I had never seen a pair quite like them. They looked quilted, almost like the material they make long johns out of, but they were also so soft. There was a little pink flower in the center just beneath the middle of the waistband, and under that a tiny pink ribbon had been made into a bow. The waist and leg bands were a powder blue and scalloped lightly around the outer edges.

Not thinking, unable to help myself, I brought them to my cheek and rubbed. They were very warm, just barely damp even though they had been in the dryer no more than ten minutes. I felt my blood rushing in a way I hadn’t felt it do in quite a while. Down below I realized that I was instantly rock hard.

I think it was at that moment I made the conscious decision that I was going to steal them. I held them up, hooking my fingers in the waistband and giving it a stretch. I was sure they would be a perfect fit, and since they were smaller than my wife’s I was sure they also belonged to the redhead.

I can’t tell you why I had never thought of trying June’s panties on before. Maybe it was because I had suppressed my urge to dress for so long that it just never entered my mind. I often bought her clothes that she never wore, things that I thought were pretty, but she for some reason did not. Standing there with a stranger’s panties in my hands made me realize that I had been buying those clothes for myself all along, saving them back and waiting for a day like this.

Having already deciding to take the panties I knew that I might as well have a full set. I reached back inside the dryer and rummaged around in the pile of damp clothes until I found a bra. Feeling the familiar feel of a strap I gave a tug and was in luck. It was simple and plain white with A cups and a plastic clasp that hooked up front. I had no doubt that it too belonged to the redhead.

Looking out the widows of the Laundromat I saw that here was no one outside on the sidewalk. I closed the dryer and restarted it, and then I headed out to the car and stuffed my lifted laundry in the glove compartment. After that I went back inside and waited for my laundry to finish drying, smoking one cigarette after another. I was far too distracted to read anymore. All I could think about was, that for the first time in years, that I was going to get to dress up and be a girl.

After the laundry was done I folded it and put it in the car for the short drive home. When I pulled up to the apartment we lived in I took the bra and panties out of the glove box and put them on the top of the bushel basket. I took everything upstairs, hiding the stolen items in one of the drawers under our waterbed that June never went in to. Then I put the rest of the clothes away and put fresh sheets on Jordan’s bed before heading to my mother-in-law’s to pick her up.

It was not until the next afternoon that I had a chance to dress up. I had barely gotten any sleep I was so excited, despite the fact that I should have been exhausted from being up with Jordan the night before. June slept like a rock, perhaps blissfully unaware of what I was thinking about.

Since she was better Jordan was off to the bus stop after breakfast. June had a little time before she had to go to work, but once she left the apartment at ten I was going to have it all to myself until two. I would even have enough time to take a nap before Jordan was out of school so that at least I would have some sleep before going to work that evening.

I busied myself, cleaning the kitchen, as I waited for June to leave. She had always been good to me, but I knew that she would not understand, and I did not want her to have to be ashamed of me.

After she was gone for half an hour, enough time to be at work and clocked in, I went to the closet in our bedroom and pulled out one of the outfits that I had bought her and she had only worn once. It was a peach blouse and matching knit sweater that went with a floral patterned, ankle length, skirt. June did like the sweater. That she had worn on several occasions, but the rest of the outfit-.

I remembered there was a pair of peach tights I had bought to go with it that had never been out of the package. I went to our dresser and opened one of the top drawers that we both considered to be the “junk drawer” and sure enough there they were, still unopened.

I put everything on the bed. Then I knelt down and opened the middle drawer under the water bed. I felt my heart pounding harder as I looked at the bra and panties I had stolen out of the redhead’s laundry.

After that I think I was in a daze for a little bit. I don’t really remember getting undressed. The next thing I was clearly aware of was standing in front of the full length mirror on the door of the single bathroom in the apartment and admiring myself as I pulled the cups of the bra close together and hooked the clasp. I smiled to my reflection, feeling absolutely radiant. I raised a hand and ran it through my hair, slightly bending my knees and trying to look sexy.

Turning I noticed a big bulge in the front of the quilted yellow panties. I took a hand and lightly ran a finger over the delicate little pink rose below my belly button. Then I raised my hand up and slipped it down my pretty new panties. I lightly closed my eyes, letting out a sigh as I adjusted what lies below. Then I looked in the mirror after taking my hand back out to admire the shape of my Mons Venus.

I stopped thinking about myself as a man. I was a girl, a pretty girl. The one I always wanted to be. I was a girl. I had girl parts. I loved the way my breasts fit perfectly into my new bra.

I could imagine Will, my best friend since middle school, someone I had imagined being with so many times, standing beside me and stroking my hair, telling me what a beautiful woman I was.

I needed more.

I went back to the bedroom and dressed in the rest of the clothes. First I opened the tights and peeled them onto my feet and legs and up my waist. Then I put on the skirt and the blouse, and then the sweater. Not done, though, I went to the drawer we keep our jewelry and got out a pair of dangling earrings that June did not like me wearing outside of the house because she thought the made me look a little girly. I smiled as I slipped the post into the holes, thinking, imagine that.

Looking into the mirror again I was even more pleased with what I saw. I posed, putting a hand on one of my hips. With a girlish giggle I thrust it out. Then I pursed my lips and made them into a kiss. Grabbing at the skirt I swished it back and forth, just enough to tease and show off my peach tight encased legs. I really wished that June had some shoes that would fit me. I knew it was the only thing that was missing.

I stepped into the bathroom and pulled out her make-up case, sitting it on the counter and opening it up. I did not spend too much time on making my face up. Just a touch of powder. Some eye shadow and mascara. God, my lashes were so lovely. Then some light colored lipstick, a tube of yellow June bought for Halloween one year. The shade was a match for my new panties. It did not go on perfectly, but I think it was a good try for a first time.

Again I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked perfect, again noting that the only thing missing was a nice pair of shoes. Black flats, I was sure, would be the perfect match.

My heart was thudding. Shania Twain’s ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’ didn’t come out until a couple of years later, but it is always the song I hear in my head when I think about dressing up with my lifted laundry for the first time. I imagine myself still, wearing those clothes I had never really bought for June in the first place as the redhead’s stolen under-things caressed my most private parts. I did dance that day to imaginary music in my head. For the first time I felt I was alive, being my true self.

My euphoric feeling extended to the sexual as well. My breasts felt tender, nipples erect and dying to be kissed. My “clit” was hard and throbbing, and my “pussy” was aching to be filled. I was at last a girl and I wanted someone to use me like a girl. Again there were visions of Will in my head, leaning over inside the hood of the old Mustang I drove in high school. His shirt was off, and his hands were covered with grime as he checked the engine and made sure there were enough fluids, things I was apparently too much of a girl inside to know how to take care of myself.

I imagined him after he was done, standing inside the kitchen of the little house he had lived in and shared with a succession of girlfriends after graduation. He was wearing nothing but jeans as he used a towel to dry his hands. I could see myself going to him, grabbing the front of his pants and undoing them so I could pull them down and take out his hard cock.

I imagined what it would be like to feel his fingers in my hair as I sucked him. I could hear him saying, “Yeah, that’s a good girl, Roberta.”

Yes, Roberta.

That’s what everyone that has ever made fun of me had called me at one time or another.

Roberta.

You would think I would hate it. But from the first moment I put on the stolen bra and panties that’s who I was. I was Roberta. Mind, body and soul.

The day of my rebirth Roberta had needs. I went back to the bedroom and into the corner at the back of the closet where June’s bag of toys sat hidden. I got out one of her favorites, the John Von Dong. It was a rubbery double dildo that had both cocks on it facing forward, the one on top fat and round, and the one on the bottom slim and slightly longer. It was one of my wife’s favorites, and I just knew I would love it too.

After digging in the toy bag for a tube of lubricant I went to the living room and stood the veiny cock toy on its base on the edge of the coffee table. I lubricated the shaft really good. Then I pulled down the tights and my new panties. I bent over, doing my best to get some of the lubricant around my tight little hole. Then I went to the table und hiked up the skirt. I quickly realized that it was not going to work with it on, so I took it down and tossed it on the couch before trying again.

I reached between my legs as I squatted over “Will’s” hard cock. Biting back I slowly worked it into my pussy. There was a lot of pressure, and it hurt. I managed to take a couple if inches before I had to stop. It was just too big for the first time.

Quickly I lubricated the slimmer shaft of the toy. Will would just have to get bigger over time. Again I grabbed it and squatted down. I got a couple of inches into my tight pussy hole, but it still hurt and was resistant. I closed my eyes, riding slowly, adding another quarter inch every few squats. It continued to hurt some but I worked through it. After all it’s supposed to hurt a girl when she looses her virginity.

My nipples and clit were hard. I imagined Will reaching up my blouse and feeling me, unhooking my new bra as I rode his cock. My clit was throbbing, the thing under it swung, and I felt the strong desire for release.

Finally I let the toy standing in for Will slip out of me. In a breathless trot I went from the living room to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. I squatted slightly, thrusting my waist out. I took my clit in hand and started to work it slowly up and down the shaft. I was so excited that it did not take but a few strokes before I moaned. White and sticky sperm dripped out of the end of my clit. It coated my hand and oozed to drip down onto the crotch of my new yellow and quilted panties.

It wasn’t my sperm, I knew. Girls don’t have sperm. It was Will’s, a gift for me, for Roberta, the girl who had been with him for so long without him knowing it.

Once I caught my breath I peeled the tights off. Then I slid my panties down and stepped out of them. Then I picked them up, licking my boyfriend’s thick and musky cum out of the crotch.

That was about 17 years ago. I only wore the bra and panties I stole from the redhead’s dryer at the Laundromat two more times before sneaking them into the trash one day, afraid that June would eventually find them. We divorced after Jordan graduated from high school. It was after our daughter left home that fall that I finally came out to her. As I knew, and as you can imagine, it was not something that she was willing to accept. It was a friendly divorce though, and June and I are still good friends.

It has been a little tough being on my own though. Jordan is very sympathetic and she hopes someday I will find a man who will love me as I am. I’m living in Kansas City now, not really a hotbed for the cd and ts scene, but people her find it a bit less unusual than they do in Savannah when they see a man in a nice dress and blouse with a sensible pair of flats.

I don’t feel bad about it. And I have no regrets, other than one thing. So, I have to get it off my chest and just say it.

Okay, here goes.

To the slim redhead, whoever and wherever you are now, I am sorry for stealing your unmentionables from the Laundromat in Savannah at the corner of South 5th and Main. But thank you. Thank you deeply, because without you and those beautiful panties and bra I would have never been able to become the person I am and was truly meant to be.

Thank you, again.

With lots of love, Roberta.

THE END

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