Every time I opened the drawer, I could barely resist the urge grab one of the panties and run my fingers through it, at times even slipping it on for a few minutes, imagining the day when the pull-ups and diapers were all discarded, and all that remained in the top drawer of the dress were rows of regular, normal, adult underwear.
Maybe I could wear them again this morning, if only for a few minutes while I did my hair. Privacy was another benefit of living with my aunt and uncle. I never had to worry about them abruptly barging into my bedroom. They rarely bothered me, but if they wanted to get my attention, they knocked, and then waited for me to come to the bedroom door and open it.
