divide it in half. Where the separate sheets of metal were joined, it was easy to "spring" the metal apart and I was able to slip into the other side and make my "sorties" in order to obtain panties. The daughter of the owner, who was a divorcee and her daughter lived in the lower flat. When I went on my "sorties," I didn't care whose panties I got, I took whatever was available. If they happened to belong to the young daughter they fitted better, but I obtained that delightful pleasure from wearing them.

Many times I would wear these panties under my trousers when playing baseball or some other game we played in the alley directly behind my home. However, someone must have suspected something because of the panties disappearing from the clothes hamper at the bottom of the clothes chute, for after a period of time I could search the hamper thoroughly and would never find any panties although there was a lot of other clothing. Because of this, I had to go other places for my "panty raids" and the clothes lines in the area of my home were frequently raided.

Although I had two sisters, I felt I could only "borrow" their panties and return them to the hamper before wash day in order to avoid any suspicion in my own home. During some of my raids to obtain a pair of panties, I had to shinney up a pillar to obtain my "loot" from the clothes line which was strung between the two pillars of the porch. As I think back, this was a very risky thing to do, but nothing happened and I got what I was after.

Many a time I walked up and down the alleys of the neighborhood looking in trash cans for items of clothing. I remember one time "striking it rich" just three doors from home where two very beautiful girls lived. I found everything I could use. There were several dresses, hose with runs in them, garter belts, slips, shoes, panties and brassieres

the whole works. It was spring cleaning time. I took everything and "cached" them away in many wooden crates my father had in the garage. Many evenings after dark, I would slip into the garage and dress com- pletely and stroll up and down the alley in femme attire until it was time for bed-call at home. I was thrilled during those moments of dressing. With each article I donned, the excitement increased and breathing would come in “short pants."

Most of my early TV life revolved around panties. It was not until I arrived in California fifteen years ago that I started wearing the rest of the garments of the opposite sex. This dressing was on again, off

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