At what point is it forced? At what point does it become voluntary? How and when does he succumb? Does he do it knowing that he will love it? Does he do it because he thinks he won't? Or does he simply get caught up in it, unable to explain it or deny it, unable to understand what is happening to him?
It's the danger of forbidden knowledge. We are made to feel ashamed of our sexual urges as children. We learn to hide our secret desires, feel embarrassed by them. Interest in women and everything associated with them becomes dangerous. It's a matter of identity: I'm not a girl, I'm a boy, and I must therefore do boy things; I must make a distinction between the sexes, and make it as rigid as possible. We struggle all our lives to discover who we are. We make choices based on what others do and how they appear. I had to identify with other boys. Girls identify with each other. But secretly, we all want to know more about the other camp. I secretly adore girls, and everything about them fascinates me in ways that I cannot begin to explain. But I'll never admit to that in public.
So it's forbidden for me to know much about them. I know how they look clothed, but I'm not allowed to see them naked. That's far too intimate. Only girls should see girls naked. That's why they have segregated washrooms. What would happen if I did know what they wear under their clothes?
Now I know. I know that I know too much. I have seen girls in their underwear. In their swimwear. I know what their clothes look like from the inside. I have been initiated. I found out how it feels to wear their clothes. Their swimwear. Their underwear. I know how to put on pantyhose, stockings, panties, a garter belt, a brassiere. Now that I know, I can never go back.
Secretly living in my wife's closet: the musings of a closet transvestite. Adult content.
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