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The scarf was lying on top of a pile of magazines. The sheer fabric shimmered attractively. I couldn’t resist. I had to touch it, feel it flowing over my fingers. I was more excited than I had ever been before. I reached out with a trembling hand and gently took hold of it, gasping at it’s soft, slippery texture and almost letting it slide to the floor. I wanted to touch my face with it, breathe through its delicate fibres. Then as I let it caress my lips and then my nose, I became giddy with it’s perfume. Suddenly I was awake and wanted more than anything to be back in the dream, which was a memory of something that had happened a few weeks earlier at a friend’s house.
It must have been around this time that I started getting excited when viewing certain images and I had no idea why. Now because this was the very early 60s, there were no images of naked women on TV, movies or in the media. This was still considered obscene and pornographic. However, magazine and newspaper editors, especially of the more lurid publications, knew what sold more copies and published as many pictures of scantily-clad women as they could under the guise of publicising films, fashion and TV programs.
And amongst those many pictures, films and TV programs were women frequently wearing see-through clothing over their underwear, the more transparent the better as far as I was concerned. This was what got me really excited and there were many similar images (for me, at least) everywhere, even in my mother’s magazines on the fashion pages where I might be lucky enough to see a model wearing a chiffon blouse.
Incredibly, I even found excitement when my cousin Rita lent me a whole years supply of a comic for girls called Bunty which contained an illustrated story about a girl who wanted to become a ballerina and ended up performing finally in a transparent harem costume. I pored over the drawings of the young dancer performing in her lovely sheer harem pants (As I say, images that were exciting to me were everywhere, even in an innocent comic for adolescent girls!).
The great thing about this was that I could feast my eyes on a photo of a glamorous film star clad only in a chiffon gown, for instance, without arousing suspicion. But the main attraction of these images was guessing how nice it would be to wear one of these garments. I don’t know how, but I knew the transparent fabric would be exciting to touch. Perhaps it was the early incident with the sheer scarf. And it didn’t matter that the garments were all ultra-feminine, that was irrelevant. However, and this was the worst aspect of my particular obsession, they were all out-of-bounds to a teenage boy.
Once, I spent ages poring over the publicity photograph for a comedy film set in arabia, which showed the star actress dressed in one of the lovliest harem costumes I’ve ever seen, complete with soft, sheer, shimmering pantaloons. I wanted to feel those pantaloons against my legs more then anything in the world. To get a better idea of the texture of the pants, I even tried looking at the photo under a magnifying glass, forgetting that newspaper photos used to be reproduced using a series of different-sized black dots. So all I saw were bigger dots!
I mention this because harem costumes (made from sheer nylon) are the main feature of this story. Of all the transparent garments I dreamed of being able to wear, this is the one which gives me the most excitement and I discovered this fact during my puberty.
All throughout the very late 50s and for the whole of the 60s, there was a continuing TV advert campaign for a product called “Fry’s Turkish Delight”. As you can guess, it featured one or more dancers dressed in transparent harem pants in the style that was popular at the time. I watched them with mounting interest, even eager anticipation, until one day, the advert came on and this time instead of just finding the advert interesting, I was overcome with excitement. I was blushing, my heart was pounding and, by the end of the 15-second slot, I was beginning to get so excited I couldn’t think straight. I don’t know what had happened for me to suddenly have such overwhelming feelings about women dressed in sheer harem costumes.
Just as the advert ended, my brother added to the considerable confusion I was suffering by turning to my mother and asking, “Why do they wear those silky trousers?” She told him that it was because they lived in a hot climate. I quickly imagined the streets of somewhere like Istanbul full of women wearing sheer pantaloons, trying to keep cool, and almost fainted at the image I had conjured up in my mind. I toyed with the idea of saying to my mother that they were wearing the ‘silky trousers’ because of the delicious feeling they got as the fabric caressed their legs and could I have a pair of see-through pyjamas just like them for my next birthday, please. But I knew this must remain my little secret.
Then one day, a few years later, not long after my eighteenth birthday, I was on my own at home for about an hour with the TV bayrampaşa escort to myself. As usual, I hoped that a turkish delight advert would be shown during the advert breaks and I was in luck. It was one of my favoutites at the time, featuring about five dancers, all in sheer harem pants. Unfortunately the adverts were only about 15 seconds long, so I had to concentrate very hard. Rather pathetically, because in such short adverts you only got tantalising glimpses of the costumes, I cried out, “Please let me join you!”.
Naturally the dancers carried on to the end of the advert, which culminated in the chocolate bar being raised aloft on an embroidered cushion and a big gong being sounded. As usual, I was concentrating so hard on seeing what little I could of the dancer’s costumes, that at first I failed to notice that the next advert wasn’t being broadcast. In fact the main dancer had lowered the cushion and was speaking to me!
“Of course, Peter, come and join us.”
This threw me as the cast of these adverts never spoke any lines.
“Did you just say I could join you,” I said.
“Yes, take my hand,” she said, reaching out. I nearly fell off my chair as I realised her hand had come through the TV screen without any damage to either. I’m not normally a very brave person, but I grasped her hand immediately. There was a whooshing sound, I was lifted off my seat and suddenly found my self in heaven, surrounded by five beautiful women dressed in luscious harem costumes. What I hadn’t expected was the obvious. TV was black and white in those days, but in their world everything they wore was in bright, attractive colours.
“Sit here, Peter,” the main dancer said, patting a large cushion next to her. I didn’t need to be asked twice and lowered myself onto it. As I did I took the opportunity to look round and noticed there were only the six of us in what appeared to be an otherwise empty film studio. I stared in disbelief at the lovely dancers dressed in yards of soft, shimmering chiffon in appealing colours. They all giggled and smiled kindly at me and as they did so the chiffon bounced and fluttered about with every movement they made. I was transfixed.
“So,” she continued, “why are you so anxious to be here?”
I was still struck dumb and more than a little embarrased about revealing how much I wanted to be dressed like them.
“Don’t worry,” said the main dancer, gently touching my arm. “We won’t laugh or make fun of you. Come on, we’d love to help you, wouldn’t we girls?”
“Yes, of course we would,” agreed one of the others, giving me a huge smile. The rest all nodded enthusiastically, the chiffon of their costumes bouncing around and picking up the studio lights. I found the sight so overwhelming, I couldn’t think clearly, let alone speak. I just sat there, unable to respond.
After a while, they all patiently began to try and help me. “Come on Peter,” said the main dancer again. “Tell us, we’re dying to know,” said another.
I blushed deeply.
“No need to be embarassed, Peter,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “Let me tell you a secret.” Then she cupped her hands around my ear and whispered, “It’s not unusual for boys and men to like wearing women’s clothes.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice starting to fill with relief.
She whispered again, “Did you want to come here because of our costumes?”
“What is about them then?” she continued, still whispering.
I still couldn’t bring myself to say it in front of the whole group.
“Whisper in my ear, then,” she said.
“OK, thanks.” I cupped her ear and whispered, “It’s your silky trousers.”
“How lovely,” she beamed. “Can I tell the others?”
“OK,” I said, suddenly gaining confidence.
“Girls, Peter is here because he loves our beautiful silky trousers.”
The other four girls were all delighted with this, giggling and nodding at this news.
The main dancer touched my arm. “I would guess there’s more to it than that,” she suggested kindly.
One of the other girls, the only one with dark hair, cried out, “I know what it is!”
“Go on, then,” said the main dancer, adding, “is that OK with you, Peter?”
“Of course,” I said, feeling relaxed at last.
“He wants to wear some himself,” the dark-haired girl said kindly.
“Yes, that’s right,” I finally spoke for myself.
“How sweet,” she said.
“I can’t blame him,” said another.
“Have you ever worn any like this before?” asked the main dancer.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen any in real life.”
“What, not even at fancy dress parties?”
“I’ve never been to one, or been invited.”
“So you must be fit to explode, I would guess. This must be all your christmases and birthdays at once.”
“Are you going to let me wear some, then?” I said expectantly.
“You’re such a sweet boy. Of course we are! In fact, you can choose any costume you like. Now be honest with us, otherwise you’ll miss the opportunity beykoz escort to wear what you really like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there any feature of a particular costume that you prefer?”
“The feeling of the material against my skin. It’s got to be very see-through and very soft and silky.”
“Is there any particular style that takes your fancy?”
“Nice baggy trousers and see-through sleeves as well, if at all possible, but the trousers are more important.”
“OK,” she said , with her finger on her chin. “There’s only one way for you to find out which chiffon you really like isn’t there?” She gently pinched two layers of the chiffon her trousers were made from and held them out towards me with her eyebrows raised in encouragement.
“That’s right,” she added as I took hold of the chiffon. “Now slide the two layers back and forth between your thumb and fingers.”
I had never touched this kind of material before (the scarf wasn’t the same) and a thrill ran through my whole body as the delicate fibres rubbed gently over each other, transferring a lovely caress to my fingertips. “That’s gorgeous!”
“Try all of the others before you make up your mind,” she said as the next girl in the circle offered me the chiffon covering her legs.
Each one was slightly different, but all were lovely to touch. Not until I came to the last in the circle, the dark-haired girl, did I realise what I had been missing. I took hold of the chiffon from which her trousers were made and it was as if a thousand tiny electric shocks had been applied to my fingertips. The feeling was heavenly as the two layers of chiffon ran over each other like buttered silk, but still I could feel every gossamer fibre run over the others. I didn’t want to let go and kept running the two layers between my fingers.
The dark-haired girl said to me so that no one else could hear, “I think you’ve found what you’re looking for, Peter.”
“Yes, I replied, it’s so luscious.”
I sat back on my cushion.
“Well,” said the main dancer, “I think we all know which ones you’ve chosen.”
I laughed and looked at the dark-haired girl’s pantaloons, which, as well as being by far the sikiest, were more transparent and much baggier than all the others. Her costume also had a long flowing sheer veil attached to a headpiece and a bolero top with billowing sleeves the same colour as the trousers, which were purple.
“Those are lovely, really lovely,” I said, pointing at them.
“OK,” said the main dancer. “Follow me you two.”
“Take your costume off, Deborah,” the main dancer said, as we reached the dressing room. “First, I’ll find you a replacement.”
“It’s Deborah’s costume you want to wear, isn’t it?” Maria said, turning to me.
“Yes, please,” I said, nodding enthusiastically.
“You’re going to love wearing Deborah’s ‘silky’ trousers and her ‘silky’ sleeves and her ‘silky’ veil,” Maria said, emphasising the word ‘silky’ each time. “What a treat you’ve got to look forward to. All that lovely chiffon caressing your body.”
With that she moved down the rack of costumes, finding one almost immediately, which she handed to Deborah. Maria’s deliberate teasing had left me delirious. How would I get through the next few minutes whilst Deborah changed costumes? I started shaking so badly that I could barely stand straight. Maria saw this and rushed up to me, grabbing both my hands in hers.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you so nervous. The truth is I really envy you. I’d love to be in your shoes right now, with a lovely dream about to come true. There, that’s better. You need to be calm to enjoy the experience. I won’t tease you again.”
A couple of minutes later, Deborah was back in a different, but equally as attractive harem costume, with the previous one, the one that was going to be covering my eager body soon, folded over her arm.
“You’re about the same size as Deborah,” Maria said, as Deborah handed me the costume, “so this should fit you perfectly.”
“I never dreamed I’d be able to wear a whole outfit like this,” I said, my voice shaking with excitement and anticipation.
“Well don’t lose control just yet,” Maria said.
I didn’t know what she meant, but I smiled anyway.
“Now, off you go,” Maria added. “I’ll be waiting, just in case you need any help. Oh, and don’t worry about the cuffs. I’ll do those up for you”
I closed the dressing room door behind me and immediately draped the costume over a chair. I ran my fingers over the legs of the trousers and gasped at the smooth, cool texture. It was so light and silky. I then held one of the gossamer legs up to my face and breathed in Deborah’s perfume. After that I was in such a rush to get my own clothes off, I almost fell over. I won’t describe in detail how I even managed to get the costume on in the first place, my hands were shaking so much. But the cool, slippery touch of the fabric as it slid across my skin was beylikdüzü escort almost too much to bear. My rock-hard cock was only just concealed inside the attached panties under the waistband of the trousers.
I wanted to wear the headpiece and veil as well, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix them on to my head. So I left the bra behind and opened the door.
“Wow!” said Maria, “It fits perfectly.”
I smiled. “I don’t know how to attach the headpiece,” I said. “Can you help, please?”
“Of course,” answered Maria, holding out her hand. In no time at all, she had secured the jewelled cap on top of my head.
“Would you like to wear the veil across your face?” she said, as if she knew the answer already. “To feel its silky smoothness caress your lips?”
All I could do was nod in agreement.
Maria then draped the veil, which was folded in two so that it was semi-sheer, across my lower face and the tip of my nose and deftly secured it in place above my ear. “How does that feel?” she asked.
“So it should for a boy who loves the caress of the silkiest chiffon.”
My knees nearly buckled at the way she said this.
“Now for the cuffs,” said Maria, doing up the sleeves. Then she squatted down to do the ankles and her eyes came in line with my waist. She opened her eyes wide, staring at the bulge in the panties and said, “I can see you certainly find this costume exciting!”
“Am I right?” she continued.
“I’m in paradise,” I answered.
Maria took hold of one of the sleeves. “I’ve never felt the chiffon this one’s made from,” she explained, as she started to run it back and forth between her thumb and fingers. She gasped. “My goodness, what a fabulous texture! No wonder you picked this one,” she exclaimed as she ran her hand down my arm.
I don’t know if she said that just for my benefit, but it added to the mounting excitement that was taking over all my senses.
Maria took my hand. “Now let’s join the others.”
As she led me back to the other dancers, my knees buckled slightly as I felt the silky fabric flutter deliciously against my limbs and face. Deborah noticed this and clapped her hands together with delight and cried, “He’s really loving this, Maria.”
“I know,” Maria said, smiling at me. “Only a few more feet to go, Peter.”
I lowered myself onto the same cushion as before and all the dancers gathered around me. “Is this silk?” I said, taking hold of one of the trouser legs.”
“No,” answered Deborah. “It’s nylon.”
“You mean, like nylon stockings?” I said.
“Not exactly, that’s very delicate and easy to snag. I heard the wardrobe mistress say that all of our costumes, well the see-through bits anyway, are made from nylon chiffon.”
I said, “Well I think it’s the most wonderful material in the world. It feels like fairy wings against your skin.”
“I really envy you, Peter,” said Maria. “Getting so much pleasure from a simple delicate fabric.”
I smiled at her through my veil.
“If you’ve never seen or touched this fabric before, how did you know that you would find it exciting?” asked Deborah.
“I can’t explain. I think I just knew from the way the chiffon drifted about that it would be exciting to touch. I can’t explain either why I find harem trousers much more exciting than skirts.”
“Now,” Maria continued. “Have you ever come, Peter?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” I replied.
“Ever had an orgasm, I mean,” she said kindly.
“Not unless you count the odd wet dream I’ve had recently.”
“Can you remember what they were about?”
“One was about a silky scarf, another was about kissing a girl at school and the latest one was about seeing a clothes rack full of harem costumes, but I made a mess and woke up before I got to touch them.”
“And now you’re actually wearing one, you lucky boy,” said Maria. “So you’ve never touched yourself for fun?”
“Do you mean masturbate?” I replied. “No, I haven’t touched myself in that way.”
“Well, in that case,” said Maria, turning towards Deborah, “you know what to do Debbie?”
Deborah nodded in agreement, grinning at me. The two women had obviously agreed on something whilst I was putting on my costume.
Turning to me, Maria said, “I think you’re so excited about being dressed in this lovely fabric and feeling it drift across your skin, that in no time at all you’ll be out of control.”
Before I had time to think about it Maria took hold of her long veil (they all had veils that came down to their waists) and slowly caressed my arm with it, up and down from wrist to shoulder. The delicious feeling as one layer of nylon chiffon slid over the other was indescribable.
“Is that nice, Peter?” Maria asked.
“It’s heavenly,” I sighed.
“OK girls,” said Maria. “You know what to do.”
“Lie back and enjoy this,” she said to me.
Suddenly four pairs of hands began caressing my limbs through two layers of chiffon and I gasped. The feeling of pleasure I was getting from having a constant erection began to change, started to move higher, slowly and steadily and with it my breathing began getting heavier. Maria had been lying next to me with her face close to mine.
“How are you feeling, Peter,” she asked, grinning at me.
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