When I was eleven, I was the toughest kid in the neighborhood. The one who came home with black eyes (but who gave more black eyes than he got), the one who was always ready for a fight, a real scrapper.
What nobody knew was that this young neighborhood tough liked to wear girls’ panties.
It had started one afternoon when my sister asked me to get a handkerchief out of her dresser, and while I was looking for the handkerchief, I opened her lingerie drawer by mistake.
I was ready