Thursday, June 01, 1995

Diary: Mail-Order Lingerie

I have begun seriously inquiring into mail-order lingerie.  Really.  With my access to the internet via the school computers, I have browsed text files to find the lingerie sites.  Some offer mail order, others do not.  I was VERY interested in a French Maid Uniform, but I can't see any images.  I inquired further into that particular item, and discovered that they don't deliver to Canada anyway.  Another place doesn't mail to PO boxes.  However, I have found a way, I think, to view some images, and perhaps I can choose some of those items, and wear them in the future.  It's all a matter of my seeing what I want and ordering it, covertly.  I wish I had a JPG viewer.  Then, I could really know what it is I'm getting into.  I want to wear lingerie so badly.  Or more specifically, I want to own a woman's wardrobe.

I went shopping for clothes today, and I couldn't help be be drawn strongly towards ladies' swimsuits and lingerie.  I want it so badly.  I fantasized in the changeroom about trying on women's clothes instead.  I imagined hiding in the store at night, and when everyone is gone, try things on for fun, at my leisure.  I would be a kid in a candy store.  I'd visit the swimwear, women's apparel lingerie, cosmetics, and have a BLAST!!!  My heart pounds to think of it.

I should make a list of what I want to get:

* little satin panties
* little silk panties
* little lace panties
* (various combinations of the above, and many, each with a matching bra, and in various colours, especially white and black)
* my own one-piece swimsuit, very tight and high-cut on the thighs, but no thongs
* a string bikini, with triangle top
* a sexy silky, lacy, satiny smooth one piece lingerie thing
* a garter belt
* fishnet stockings
* silk stockings
* regular stockings
* control top pantihose
* regular pantihose
* a tight miniskirt
* a summer dress
* a tight minidress
* a French maid's uniform

I would love to just have a dresser FULL of women's clothes.  Exclusively women's clothes.  I would enjoy playing dress up all the time, and wear all the things I want at my convenience.  God, this is so cool.  It's somehow so gratifying to dress up like a girl.  I always go back to it.  It's always on my mind.  One of these days, I'll go all out.  I swear it.

I came across a web site for transvestites.  There was a text file about dressing guilt free that was very accurate.  It said that many men love to wear women's clothes because they love women so much that they want to emulate them, and that they often feel guilty when they do it.  It advised doing it in private, to avoid embarrassment.  It said that many men, because of their guilt, like to imagine being forced into it, to absolve themselves of guilt in their fantasies.  It even said that dressing up is at least as gratifying as intercourse (I get aroused thinking that it's MORE gratifying).  But there was one innacuracy: it didn't fully explain my psychology when I do it.  It seemed to say that men just want to feel the sexy soft silks against their bodies, and that they get turned on by it;  but the psychology behind it is much stronger than that.  For me, the thrill is in doing something naughty, for one thing, doing something that men are by no stretch of the imagination supposed to do; also, the thrill is in thinking of becoming a woman, whether she forces you or not.  The greatest thing is imagining that I'm becoming a girl, and that I am ecstatic about it.  Yes, that's it: imagining that, despite the mental barriers that I as a man have against displaying femininity, the feeling is so strong that I admit to wanting to become female.  It's the most taboo thing possible, to become a girl, in every way.  Just look how many of my fantasies become homoerotic, just because an integral part of female sexuality is loving dicks.  The thrill is not simply in being in contact with silk, otherwise men would get the same thrill out of wearing their own silk boxers.  No, the thrill is in putting on something designed for women, and women only, to make them look sexy, and being thrilled by it despite social taboos.  The thrill comes in realizing that you are thrilled about becoming (in your fantasies, at least) feminine.  I feel so sexy when I wear girls' clothes.  I usually imagine a girl to look up to, a girl that I want to look like, in having an hourglass shape, tits, hips, a pleasant looking fleshy flat spot between the legs.  I imagine being in that girl's skin, being that girl, that ultimate sexual object.  

It's weird sometimes how it happens.  I can be dead tired, and I'll be rolling around in bed, and get one of those incurable hardons which demand attention.  My fantasies demand girl's panties.  They are so incoherent in my half-sleep that they are nothing but symbolic.  The idea that something can be designed for women rarely coagulates: it's too complicated for the circumstances.  I blindly concentrate on some abstract idea of femininity, a thing that I worship because of the pleasure that it gives me through my dick, and somehow translate that into an idea which I can recognie even in these moments as pervertedly arousing: that I can abandon my masculinity and join the abstract idol of femininity.  The only way to do that is to wear her clothing.  That's the way I perceive it when I'm in such a state.  Sometimes, I fail to finish, out of fatigue, or insufficient desire.  Other times, I can't help but finish too soon, and the boner remains, and I need to do it again, but I'm still satisfied slightly.  

Another interesting factor is the absolute irreconciliability of my two sexual urges.  I always have the urge to fuck women, especially when in contact with real women.  When I'm alone, I inevitably think of my own femininity instead, and exploit it.  But when I'm with a girl, the last thing on my mind is wearing her clothes, or living a fantasy of her forcing me to become a girl too.  I just want to fuck her.  Even when I think of fucking when I'm alone, I can't usually turn to thoughts of effeminating myself.  When I do, I end up either fluctuating between them and accomplishing nothing, or choosing one over the other.  Probably 99% of the time, or more, it's got to be effeminacy.  It's just so much more thrilling.  When I have chosen effeminacy, I can never turn back.  It overpowers me.  Obviously, I'm not always successful at reaching my climax, but the other option becomes unattractive.  The opposite usually holds true as well, except that the idea that she would ask me in mid-fuck to wear her clothes usually creeps in and slows me down.  The rush of the climax is totally different, too.  I feel ultimately unsatisfied, most of the time, when I effeminate, probably because I know that I can never become a girl, and that really, the ultimate objective is to just masturbate forever and ever wearing girls' clothes, because that way I would never stop effeminating, which would make me a girl, I suppose.  But when I imagine fucking, I reach a climax, and I'm finished, and I've acheived everything that I fantasized about.  I keep promising to wear the little black satin lacy panties to sleep, but I always choke after I masturbate with them.  Not tonight.  I must do it tonight, just because I want to be that much more of a girly.