Saturday, February 15, 1997

Diary: Still Grasping for an Explanation

I might have a partial solution to all of this.  And I've probably said it all before, too.

It's a quirk of my sexuality that I love to wear women's clothes, that I want to become female by doing so.  I have solved the chicken-or-egg dilemma: that first experience was the crucial moment, I think.  Or was it?

That first time wearing women's clothes, for that kindergarten pantomime, allowed me to associate a pleasurable experience with wearing women's clothing.  From that moment on, I knew that wearing girls' panties would be extremely exciting.  I knew that it would stimulate my little pecker.  And that's the whole story.  I associated sex with women's clothes.

Therefore, the idea that wearing women's clothes would bring me sexual pleasure infiltrated my impressionable mind.  Ever since then, I have sought to relive that moment.  The intense pleasure comes from that primal memory.  Oh, how I remember planning in my little brain to have fun with those little stockings at night.  I knew that they would bring me lots of pleasure.  And I'm sure that I would have been right.  So I had formed an impression that wearing any women's underwear would make me feel good sexually.

That explains how I want to be a girl.  Girls wear women's clothing all the time.  Therefore, I will be a girl, wear women's clothing all the time, and feel incredible sexually all the time.  That this was patently forbidden made it all the more appealing.  I knew what I would experience if I dared to wear it, and that made the anticipation that much more intense.

But there is another aspect: I remember masturbating even before that.  I would think of girls capturing me somehow and doing things to me that felt good.  I wonder how much of it is related to transsexualism, though.  Have I fogged my memories with it to make them consistent with my present existence?  I remember thinking that girls would capture me and "girl" me somehow.  What this meant, I wasn't too clear on.  I'm quite certain now that I think of it that it had nothing to do with women's clothing.  They just affected me in a way that I didn't understand or control.  That must be where the capture scenario came from.  

So, was I born with this fetish, or was it bred into my by that one incident when I was 5 years old?  Probably the latter.  Imagine the implications: how many of my classmates have the same secret?  They all wore white pantyhose.  Did they all feel the way that I did?  I'll never know, will I?

Anyway, it's quite obvious now where the thrill comes from.  There is no complex psychological noodling necessary in my mind to excite me when I wear women's clothing.  I tend to intellectualize it far too much.  It really isn't all that complicated.

This is how it works, in a nutshell: I know that wearing women's clothing turns me on, and that I can get the most intense sexual thrills imaginable from it.  Therefore I do it.  And I fantasize about having to do it.  I fantasize about people who do it all the time.  Like Kim from that story.  He gets to wear it all the time, and that's what appeals to me.  It's not that he becomes female eventually, or at least not entirely.  It's that he wears all sorts of girlie stuff, all the time, and that he gets to be quite comfortable in it out of habit.  Part of his appeal is that he remains male throughout.  He never actually loses his dick.  He only suppresses its existence.  I'm not crazy about his crossing over into homosexuality.  That seems somehow distasteful to me.  Even the kid who gets teased by his stepmother has that problem: I don't like when he kisses a boy, enjoys it, and finally decides to become completely female and live forever after as his stepmother's daughter.  I love the idea that his girlfriends turn him into a girl, and that he gets to hang out with them, sleep with them (innocently, that is), and be like them.  He gets to share in their femininity.  The same with Kim.  He gets to share in femininity.  That's the cool part.  They both get to be as feminine as possible, by wearing all sorts of kinky sexy lingerie all the time.  And that's what I want to do, too.

I have fantasized (as these pages will attest) about becoming like them.  I have fantasized about sucking dicks and getting fucked up the ass; and I've also fantasized about getting fucked up the cunt that I eventually acquire.  It's part of becoming female, I suppose, but it's rarely the end of my fantasies.  The end is rather to enjoy being feminine.  And I do that by wearing panties of various kinds.

This raises a question, though: why do I want to be feminine?  Is it simply because that would allow me to wear women's clothing full-time?  It makes some sense, I guess.  I'm almost trembling thinking about wearing lingerie again, and thinking of what I fantasize about.  That idea of discovery, of humiliation, really interests me when I masturbate, when I dream, even.  Wearing women's clothes enters my dreams quite frequently.  I don't think I ever fantasize about fucking.  I do a bit when awake, but it seems to be in a completely different context.  I dream about stealing bathing suits, and about wearing panties and bras, and about playing with A__ in her underwear.  It's the ultimate goal: to wear women's clothing.  It's a bit mundane, because I do it all the time.  But so would fantasizing about sex.  

So there we are.  I wear panties just for fun.

It's just not as exciting to think of it that way.  I enjoy thinking about the psychological implications.  I saw an episode of Frasier tonight and the plot made me think about how serious a part of my sexuality it has become.  In this episode, Frasier struggles with a recurring dream in which he wakes up in a cheap motel in bed with a naked man.  He denies that his sexuality might be suspect.  But then I think of my own sexuality.  I've known about it for a very long time.  I suppressed it for a very long time.  But now it's the main part of my sexuality.  I dream sex dreams about wearing women's clothes, and trying to acquire women's clothes.

I just read a few more stories.  God, I want to wear stuff.  I just love the idea of discovery.  All of a sudden, a man discovers that he actually enjoys wearing women's clothes, and never takes them off again.  Humiliation is fun too.  The man is forced to appear in public in women's underwear, and ends up enjoying it too much to give it up.

So you like it, do you?  YES!  Give me MORE!  I beg you!

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