Bra, Panties, And High Heels

Fbailey story number 642


Bra, Panties, And High Heels


Mom told Dad and I that we had to attend, that it was required, and that our admission had already been paid. Apparently we had donated several hundred dollars to Breast Cancer Research to save the Ta-tas.

My mother has a bodacious set of ta-tas. My sister is well on her way to an even better set. I have been totally engrossed with female mammary glands since I hit puberty. My grandmother has a saggy set that grandpa calls Meat Puppets. We won’t go into why. My uncle calls Aunt Mary’s breasts Fun Bags.

Anyway back to the mandatory fashion show. It was on a Saturday afternoon from one o’clock until five o’clock. Four long drawn out hours of torture. Dad would have to give up his golf game with his buddies. I would have to give up a football game. It just wasn’t fair.

That morning we all went out to have breakfast. Then we were required to go to the beauty shop with them. Mom couldn’t trust us. They got their hair fixed up, their nails and toes manicured, and their makeup applied.

When we arrived we were taken to our seats and the girls were taken back stage to get ready. We could not believe that we were seated right in the front row center, just a couple of feet from the end of the stage. No wonder Mom insisted that we both bring our digital cameras. She told us to be sure to include her and Cindy in our pictures and not just take pictures of the other women and girls.

The place filled in and some guys were standing around the walls.

A woman came out in a silk robe and walked right up to Dad and I. She lifted up a cordless microphone and spoke, “The Breast Cancer Committee and I would like to welcome all of you men here for our first annual Bra, Panties, and High Heels Fashion Show.