Tuesday, July 15, 1997

Diary: Pining for a Bikini, with a Touch of Denial

To Hell with all of that.  For tonight, anyway.  Well, not all of it: just the part about wanting to be female.  That's not necessarily true.  It's a little bit different.

Right now, I'm wearing A__ [my girlfriend]'s little velvety panty and bra set.  And I love it.  It's so tight, especially around the crotch.  And they're so smooth on the inside.  Very fun.  I'm not well disguised either.  I'm only wearing my old baseball jersey over it.  So if anyone were to see me right now, they would see my crotch caressed with deep red velvet.  I felt like being daring tonight.

Today, while at work, I began to fantasize about wearing a bikini.  Out of the blue.  It made me very horny.  I think I might even have blushed as I sat there daydreaming about it.  It made me realize something, though.
I didn't want to wear it to make myself more feminine.  Not at all.  Or at least not at all consciously.  I just wanted to wear it because it's so incredibly pleasurable.  I was picturing how sexy women look in bikinis, and how bikinis themselves look so soft and elastic and smooth and colourful.  There's something extremely arousing about bikinis.  And I remember the excruciatingly good times I had with bikinis in the past.  It had nothing to do with becoming feminine, only with having a sexual kick of the highest order.  I desperately want a bikini now.  I started planning to buy one during my lunch break.  How wonderful it would be if I could just stroll into a store, pick one out, and buy it!  But it's not like that.  I wonder if I have the guts to try it.  I wonder what I would say.  I wonder if they would say anything.  It would probably be painfully embarrassing, but I would have a bikini.  A small price (besides the financial one) to pay.  Maybe I should.

But anyway, I was thinking of it as an object of pleasure in and of itself, without the idea of femininity attached to it.  I wanted it as something that would be lots of fun to wear, not as something that would make me a girl.  That implication was not in my mind at all.

Of course, it's inevitable, probably, that I think of it when I wear it.  I mean, after all, it is women's clothing.  And the more I wear it, you know. . .the more I'd want to wear it.


Goddammit, I want one.  I have to think of something!


Meanwhile, I have these undies. . .

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