Yes, why do the other females of dating age in this town even hate me at all? Maybe it's because I was raised in a conservative and religious family, and this is a progressive and forward-thinking liberal college town. I used to think that other girls/women didn't actually hate me--that merely I had no status because I had old-fashioned ideas about a girl remaining pure before her marriage, and that the husband be the sole family bread winner. Although this town had it's fair share of conservative blue collar families and workers, most of it's red-blooded males are and were seduced by much faster women who 'put out' before mariage.

I guess for most males, this seductive availability is nearly impossible to ignore. My name is Nancy Suzanne, and it's not as if I am unattractive to eligable males--I'm a pretty, very feminine and girly-girl, 5' 7", 135 pound, slightly voluptuous (C cup breasts), slenderish but with good athletic muscle tone, 27 year healthy Caucasian female. I've had my share of date offers, and a few actual dates. But I don't just want to date for the sake of dating and release of sexual tension--I want to date as part of a very traditional and Christian oriented courtship, resulting in marriage for the purpose of raising a family. My prissy, prim and demure attitude is reflected in my shy wallflower personality, and in my appearance. My overall clothing style could best be described as 'cute' and often as 'juvenile'--I often dress like Alice Little of 'Alice in Wonderland', but with the pinafores. My skirts and dresses (typically, very 1950's American A-line) have modest hems that end almost at my knees; but when I'm feeling very lonely and a little down, I tend to psycholigically retreat into little girldom, and often wear little girls' party dresses with very very short hems. My shoes are pumps, usually with very prim 1" or less heels; but sometimes when I feeling sexy and adventurous and am trying very hard to attract a man, I wear pumps with 3" heels! And again, when I'm feeling sad and lonely, I wear Mary Jane flats with frilly ankle socks). My girly underthings: I always wear full-coverage white (or ivory, pale pink or other pale pastel color) Granny-style panties, usually of nylon or cotton material, and sometimes when I'm feeling very shy I wear very old-fashioned, spinsterish band-leg white cotton panties; and again, when I'm in my little girl mode, I will wear little girls' Disney princess or other very juvenile-motiffed, all cotton panties. And of course I wear very discreet makeup, and girly-girl hair bands, bows and barettes. My hair: I've always worn my wavy auburn hair long, and always will--none of those short, boyish, modern styles for me!   Yes, dating has been a disaster! The few dates I have been on didn't go well. While being very shy, I do tend to flirt, and I've found that I actually love flirting. It's probably my flirting style that doesn't seem to work very well for me--I like to act 'little-girlish' in that I feel inexplicably compelled to give my dates (and sometimes random guys) an 'accidental' quick look at my legs and my panties. I do so by sitting down or getting up very awkwardly like a very unaware 5 year old little girl may do, and 'accidently' letting my legs splay wide open, showing him the outline of everything I have underneath my panty crotch! Then I act all innocent, and smile and giggle and blush and look away, and sometimes ask him "Oh Sir, did you see my panties. I'm so sorry Sir, but I didn't want you to see my pretty panties!" And usually at that point (if we're mostly alone) they will rudely try to actually feel me up down there and grope me. And I have to push them away, and tell them nice girls don't let men other than their husbands touch them. Naturally, they're so frustrated and horny that they call me nothing but a tease, and sometimes even swear at me. But it usually ends right there with me crying and then they promptly taking me right home. But twice it turned very very scary when they unzipped their pants flys and pulled out their very angry and hard and large penises, and put me on my knees and tried to make me suck it. I was so very scared and also so very confused--for a split second I was aware of an almost overwhelming desire to kiss and lick and suck and worship and beg to have my virgin Christian pussy be raped by the horrible thing, but most fortunately my Christian faith won out and kept me pure for my future husband, and I shoved them away with all my might and told them they would have to kill me first! But alone at night in my bed, I would wake up thinking about big penises, and my virgin pussy would be so very wet, and I would have to tearfully rub my sinful pussy and ample breasts until I orgasmed.  So over time I was no longer asked on dates because I had developed a town-wide reputation as a prissy cock-tease. Then one day, a casual girl friend said she knew of a single guy in town who might be the perfect date and guy for me. I had long ago given up on accepting any blind dates because of my horrible luck. She wasn't a truly good friend and I didn't really trust her, but I decided to accept just one last time because I was so lonely and desperate. Little did I dream that my future date would turn out to be the most disasterous date of all, and possibly the most disasterous date conceivable! She said his name was Scottie Black and was looking for a new girlfriend; his first and only wife divorced him a year ago, and she had it on good authority that it wasn't because he was abusive or unfaithful; he was highly educated with a well-respected and well-paying job as a Woman's Studies professor at the local university. She told me he wasn't the most macho guy around, but was a nice guy who respected women (I thought to myself--I guess so since he teaches Woman's Studies!) and could easily support me and any future family I might want to start. So I accepted the date. It was an understate-on-steroids that Mr. Black wasn't macho!  He was about my age and about 5' 6" with a very slender and frail-looking, slightly effeminate looking body (he seemed to have slightly feminine but boyish hips) and probably didn't weight an ounce more that 110 pounds. He had a 'pretty' fine-featured face with a small cute nose and thin pouting lips. His hair was styled in a very cute girlish pageboy bob, and it seemed as if he wore a very very discreete amount of makeup, only enhancing his eyelashes and eyebrows. His only visible jewelry was a very delicate heart-shaped locket necklace. He wore a white semi-sheer girl's long-sleved blouse with puffed shoulders, and it appeared as if he was wearing a barely visible little girl's training bra underneath! And he was wearing what looked like a woman's dark navy colored capri pants with no front fly but with a short zipper at on side. They were tight enough that I could make out what looked like a woman's full-coverage panty line underneath, but try as I could, I couldn't see even a hint of a penis bulge under his girly capris! She was correct--he's not the most masculine guy around. Even though he didn't lisp or have exaggerated limp wrists like the proverbial stereotype fag, his overall mannerisms and clothes strongly suggested 'gay'!  Anyhow, we went to a semi-fancy restaurant for a supper, and polite and inconsequential small talk. He drove me home, where I decided to find out if he was gay male, or even a lesbian woman! I invited him in and decided to flirt like I did on occassion with previous dates. I sat down only a few feet directly across from him.  I was wearing another of my A-line dresses, ivory colored with short puffy sleeves and Peter Pan collar, and with a very pretty lacey half-slip underneath. When I was fully seated, my dress hem rode way up my legs, which were discretely together, only allowing him to see a small triangular view of my very feminine and lacey, semi-sheer, pale pink Vanity Fair panties. I noticed his eyes were transfixed on my upper legs, so I guessed he was hetero, or at least bi. As I continued idly talking about nothing at all, I pretended to absent-mindedly spread my legs wide apart, giving him a lingering full-view of my pantycrotch. I could see he was getting uncomfortable--he was figeting in his seat, and his eyes were nervously darting back and forth between my mischevious eyes and my panty crotch. And seeing how I was effecting him, I was myself starting to get hot--and wet!  And then something sort of snapped inside my head--my Christian temperance and forgiveness vanished when I suddenly realized the power I had, both physically and sexually, over this wimpy little runt of a femme man! I decided to use this pansy as a scapegoat for all the decent men who weren't intersted in dating me, and the all crude men who did date me, but tried to force me into being a mere sex object. So I ordered him to stand up at once. He stammered an apology and begged me to tell him what he had done to offend me. I replied in feined anger "For being a man in a ladies presence". I strode over to him and touched the front of his pants and continued "For rudely getting an this erection and having the nerve to show it to me, you pervert!"  Poor Mr. Black started crying and stammered "But I...but I...I di...I didn't...you....you...showed me your...p...p...your lovely panties Miss!...I..I couldn't help..."  I interupted him with a hard slap across his pretty face, causing him to fall back into his chair. I ordered him to "Get up at once you disgusting pretty pansy. Can't you even defend yourself against a girl?" When he was back up I asked "So you like looking a girl's panties without their permission" and condescendingly continued "And you call this a penis...I can barely tell if it's even under there." Before he could reply, I added "And unzip the side of you girly capris and let them slide down to your ankles!"  He was now shaking uncontrollably and started stammering "Oh Miss. Oh Miss. Oh please don't make me...I...I...I...pleeease...d..." Whack-I slapped him again as his capris capris fell down. "OH MY GOD!..." I exclaimed in fake surprise "...the pansy wimp is wearing pretty little girl's cotton Disney panties." Scottie broke down sobbing and stammered "What are you going to do to me? What are you going to do to me? Oh please Miss, please Miss don't...please don't hurt me...I'm..." He tried vainly to hide the little panty bump from me, but I reached over and gently fondled it for just a second or two through his smooth panty material and continued "What is this tiny little thing? Is this skinny pixie stick actually your penis? I think you must be some sort of little fucking faggot!" With that, Scottie spurted and I exclaimed "Well well, it looks as if little Mr. Scottie Black is going to be my very own little panty boy?! I bet you'd just love that...wouldn't you faggot?! Having a pretty girl like myself fondling and milking your pretty little girly pantied peepee?!"  By now, poor Scottie was sucking his thumb, and as I reached back and started gently patting and rubbing the back of his pantied little tushie, his tiny and very thin little boy's penis sprang to life and grew again to it's full erect size of a pitiful 2 3/4". I noticed Scottie now had his other hand up under his blouse and cute training bra, and was fondling one of his own tiny breasts and nipples. And as I used a finger to poke at his pantied anus opening, he uttered a long, low, and sweet girly moan, and spurted into his pretty princess panties!