Thongs of Innocence, Thongs of Experience

Brad turned the item this way and that. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"A thong," Stephanie answered, smiling.

He looked equally annoyed and disappointed. "Why couldn't you have just bought the jockstraps, as we'd agreed?"

"These are better," she pointed out. "They're more comfortable and they'll look better on you, too. They're fashionable."

"I can't wear these," Brad contended.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a faggot, that's why!" he snarled. "Queers wear this kind of shit."

Stephanie repressed the urge to laugh, because she knew how sensitive Brad was about his sexual identity. Although he slept with her, sucked her cock as frequently as she sucked his (and with as great a devotion and pleasure), and fucked her in the ass on a regular basis while masturbating her, it was important to Brad to maintain the fiction that he was just as straight as the next heterosexual guy. How he managed to deceive himself was beyond her, but she certainly wasn't going to challenge him and end up in a big argument about something he wouldn't admit even to himself.

"All right, Brad," she said evenly. "I'll take them back."

"Why couldn't you have gotten the supporters, the way I asked you to do?" he asked angrily.

His tone of voice upset her, and Samantha snatched the thongs from his hands. "Excuse me!" she cried. "I was trying to do you a favor. I thought you might appreciate the gesture, but, don't worry, I won't make that mistake again!"

Brad regretted yelling at her, especially when he saw the tears in her eyes. She'd meant no harm. She'd meant only to help him, to do him a favor, and he'd responded by screaming at her like an idiot. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft and contrite. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I'll wear them."

Her anger was unappeased. "Don't bother. I'll exchange them."