Tuesday, September 02, 1997

Diary: What I did in the Candy Store; Bonus Fantasy: Long-Distance Relationship

So I went there and did it.  My god, what an experience!  One of the most intense, ever!  I tend to have some quite amazing sessions when I write about it first, but there was a little bit of time before my escapade of the day.  But boy, did it ever work.

I didn't know quite where to start.  I looked for shoes, but found nothing that could even come close to fitting my feet.  I was disappointed at first. Then I went to the basement and found another of A__'s bras, and brought it up with me.  I put it aside and looked through the closet and dresser again.  

The first thing I put on was that little high-cut leotard, which was probably the most high-cut thing I've ever worn.  I rubbed myself around a bit before I took control of myself and put it away for future reference.  Nice and tight on the crotch, very high up the thigh, but a little old and worn out.

Next I put on that little silky off-white teddy.  It was exquisite to rub around in silk.  But then I took control of myself again, and went back to the closet.  I didn't want to take this one off.  I went right for the two dresses.  First the short little blue one.  I felt incredibly sexy.  I rubbed a bit more, perpetually close to coming, and stopped myself again.  There was more to do.

I put back the blue dress and slipped into the black and white gown that she wore to my grandparents' 60th anniversary.  It's much tighter on me than it is on her.  I was totally amazed at how wonderful it feels to have a skirt flowing around my legs.  I could barely stand it any longer.  I had to continue, but not with that dress on.  I didn't want to ruin it.

I got up and took it off.  When I returned to the closet, I noticed that the black teddy that I wanted a piece of was hanging behind a corner, out of sight!  I immediately stripped out of the lacy teddy and put it on.  It was quite wonderful, too.  But I had more things to try.  I was like a kid in a candy store.

I took it off and I had to try on that bathing suit again.  It looked so interesting to me, and the first time I wore it, I wasn't totally in the mood for it.  But I was intrigued by the back of it, which is high around the shoulders.  I squeezed myself into it, and promptly fell onto the bed again in exctasy.  There was no more stopping me.  I wanted to try to put on some panties, but I simply could not stop myself this time.  It was incredible.  I was so horny, and I was so far gone into it that I simply could not contain myself.  I came into my hand, an extremely viscous load, and spilled it all over my leg, dropped my dick right onto the bathing suit, and dripped onto the comforter.  I made a bit of a mess.  But it was so worth it.  Probably the best one-piece bathing suit experience ever.  It was most likely due to the other things I wore, and to the fact that it is A__'s (I admit that I thought of her much of the time, and thought about how I was feeling where her genitals once touched).  That bathing suit will now forever remind me of an incredible sexual experience.  I'm doomed.


And to think that I have yet to sample so much of her underwear!  I still need to come inside those two teddies, and in her many panties, and in those leotards. . . God, I'm glad that she asked me to go back there again tomorrow to throw out the garbage.  I'll be overjoyed to continue my experiments.  I want to hang around in her dress, wearing her panties underneath, and maybe some stockings (perhaps my own fishnets, on my own garter belt?).  

Just in case, I took her silky off-white teddy with me for tonight.  I came already this evening, but I think I won't be able to resist doing it again.  I even feel like wearing that velvety underwear she keeps in my drawer.
Anyway, I wanted to record a new fantasy:



My beloved girlie is leaving me for a trip somewhere with her family.  I can't go because I need to work.  So she goes alone, without me.  But she makes sure that I don't feel too lonely.

We make love the night before she leaves.  An incredible night of passion, with kinky touching and positions and the whole bit.  But as we get dressed, she notices how sad I am about her departure.  

"Don't worry, sniffy, you don't have to forget about me."

"I won't."

"I know.  But here's a little something to keep you thinking of me."  She scooped up her undies and dangled them in front of my face.  I playfully swatted them away.

"What's all this about?"

"I don't want you to forget about me while I'm gone," she began again. 

"Yes, darling, I'll treasure your dirty underwear," I said with a chuckle, somewhat turned on about keeping such an intimate memento.

"If you ever get really, um, lonely, just put them on."

"Oooh, as if I don't all the time," I kidded, thinking she was putting me on.

"No, seriously."

"Yes, dear.  But as much as I would like to, I don't think that I can.  They're probably too small.  And what would the guys say?"

"Oh, don't worry about that.  I'm sure they'll fit you.  And nobody ever has to know.  It'll be our little secret.  Besides," she purred, rubbing her hand on my semi-dormant prick, "you know what part of my body is in constant contact with those, don't you?"

"Well, if you put it that way. . ."

So we fell asleep, and she left in the morning.  She left her panties on my dresser, just as a token of her suggestion of the night before.

That evening, I felt so incredibly horny thinking about her, but she wasn't around.  I missed her already.  But I ignored my urges and went to sleep.  This went on for a few days, until it became completely unbearable.  Shedding away all my dignity, I decided that I might as well jerk off.  I was quite eager to get going, but for some reason, I simply could not feel as good as I would have liked.  I thought of our last conversation, and remembered the panties she left me.

I got to thinking about her in those panties, how they caressed her sweet, smelly cunt, that lovable curvaceous little lump of flesh and hair, the locus of my greatest pleasure.  I wanted to touch it again.  But she wasn't there.  All I had were those panties, which hugged her snugly where I love her most.  I compulsively snatched the panties off my dresser and sniffed them, and rubbed them on my dick.  

It was fantastic.  But I needed more.  I needed to be in contact with that lovely little middle part that cradles her cunt at all times.  I ran my finger along the lovely little lacy trim, and along the silky material, and I nearly swooned.  I took her advice and put them on, and thoroughly enjoyed myself remembering her.

She was a bit surprised to find me still wearing them when she returned.  I wore them every day since that first day.  She giggled when she saw them.

"So I see you took my advice, hm?"

"Yes, and I'm still wearing them to show you how much I missed you."

She was touched, and we fucked each other's brains out immediately.

Her mother was ill, so she had to leave almost every weekend.  I relied on the same ritual to remember her, and it served as an adequate replacement.  She told me to simply grab whatever panty appealed to me at the moment, and I wore something sexy every day she was gone.  She encouraged me to wear anything I wanted, including her bras, bathing suits, and lingerie, because she thought it was so sweet of me to think of her so much, and to be so attached to her things.  She is so sentimental.

We became closer through this little ritual.  I always felt so much love for her when I felt the divine fulcrum of her panties, my crotch rubbing up against what touches hers.  I began to miss her so much even during our daily separation for work that I began to wear her panties every day.  She was even more impressed.  The ritual had become a daily one.  Our sex life grew to a fever pitch.

We had so much fun getting dressed in the morning.  I pretty well dumped all my own underwear.  I didn't need it anymore.  All I needed was hers, and I could think of her all day.  We picked out the panties that we would wear each day.  I wore her teddies sometimes, when it appealed to me.  I even began to wear bras, even though I didn't need any support for my non-existent tits.  I almost wished that I did.  Our sex life consisted of this day-long ritual: we would dress each other up in similar clothes, careful not to do anything more than tease each other.  Then we would think about sex all day, come home, and parade in front of each other in silky lacy girlish glee.  The foreplay was the best part: we would cavort around in her underwear until almost the point of climax.  I loved feeling close to her by wearing her underwear, and showing off to her how much I enjoyed feeling it on my body.

Our ritual escalated.  I started shaving my body to feel more appropriate in her underwear.  It looked so barbarous with all that hair sticking out everywhere.  She helped me do it, she was so enthusiastic about it.  My whole body was shaven clean, and I felt and looked sexier than ever in her panties.  For the first time, I wore her stockings on my smooth legs, with her garter belt, and was amazed at how beautiful a girl I had become.  So was she.  She loved the idea of having me so devoted to her that I would want to be just like her.



There's so much room for psychological detail: showing how I move from man to woman, and how I rationalize and accept my transformation.  Talk about how I never saw it coming until it was too late, and then I embraced it.  It's lovely, isn't it?

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