The nightie was short, the knickers frilly, his thigh was silky and smooth. He opened his eyes and looked up at the pink walls, a fairy castle on one wall and a Disney Princesses poster on the other. Over the dressing table hangs a cheap painting of a ballerina which he can just about make out on the half-light. The dressing table itself, even in relative darkness oozes femininity. He roll over to turn his back on it, and realises that this nightie needs rearranging with almost every movement. It’s like it was designed to ride up! But no matter how much he tried to hate it… it was just as thrilling as anything.
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