I was pretty saturated with the last shipment. I have so much feminine stuff now I don't know how I'll ever wear it all. Remember my declaration that I'd focus on swimwear? Well not too long ago, I got tired of all the bikinis, and got a strong hankering for some lingerie.
On a strong impulse, I went for the white garter slip I'd been dreaming of for months, and an appropriate pair of white panties. They finally arrived today.
I must admit, I wasn't feeling particularly keen on my little adventures lately. With the package in my car with me on the long ride home from work, I tried so hard to get myself into a little fantasy so I could get more enthusiastic about my new frillies. Try as I might, I just couldn't sustain a fantasy. Too much else on my mind.
Tonight was perfect for bringing this home, because the wife is out. When I arrived, I promptly unpacked my goodies, and inspected them, more interested in hiding them than wearing them. When I felt the unreal softness of the slip, my heart melted. It's exquisite! And now I had to put it on!
I rushed into the bedroom and squeezed myself in. It's wonderfully tight, all the way to my butt, where a set of garters await my stockings. It clasps in the back like a bra, which gives that wonderful feeling of being harnessed into something feminine, with no way out. The panties are OK. I have similar ones. I think I would have preferred something a little different, but I'm sure I'll enjoy them anyway.
Tomorrow morning, I'll put them both to the test. I'll have the time to put on some stockings and shoes with them.
Saturday will be even better, as I'll have the entire day and night to myself!
Another order...
Having committed myself to a life in women's swimwear, I stumbled onto a 20% off sale at Victoria's Secret. I spent less than $30 on the ringed bikini, and a plain neon pink string bikini.This is what I really wanted in my original order, but they no longer have it in pink, which I would have preferred. This will do just fine.
The Unboxing II
At lunchtime, I slunk down to the parking garage to spend some quality time with my newly acquired girlie clothes. I had been thinking about them all morning, especially since my brief glimpse of one of my new shoes amounted to a religious experience.
I nervously looked over each shoulder as I exited the elevator and walked to my car. There was nobody here, and even then, I'd be fairly well hidden in my car. Nobody would even come by, much less have any idea what I was up to.
Once again, I opened my box and unloaded its contents onto the passenger seat. This time, however, I would not be content with merely contemplating each item through its clear plastic wrapper. I needed to examine them much more closely, if for no other reason than to confirm whether they met my expectations. The problem with ordering clothes online is that things look much better on the screen (especially when worn by a stunningly beautiful supermodel) than in the hand. I was already surprised by the apparent padding in both the lingerie bra and the bikini top, never mind the boldness of the shoes. What else might be different from my expectations? Would any of it disappoint?
I started with the satin panties. The first thing I noticed, before I even opened the wrapper, was a pretty bow on the front. I hadn't noticed it in the picture. I was pleased to notice the pretty stitching along the legs, and the lace accents on the front. When I tore open the wrapper and took them out, I unfolded them in front of me. They looked fantastic. I trembled with glee at the thought that someone might see me admiring women's panties in my car. I regretted that I had no way of putting them on then and there. The satin was absurdly soft. This was better than I had even thought it would be. I had expected something much smaller and flimsier, like my wife's microfiber panties. These are more elaborate and somehow more substantial.
Next came the matching bra. I was already delighted by the padding, which I now confirmed was the reason for the volume of the package. I never expected to get this kind of help! Now I could look like I have a reason for owning a bra! Even better was the satin all the way around to the back. This bra is prettier in many ways than any of my wife's. I couldn't wait to wear this with my new panties. I had fairly low expectations for my new underwear, and this far exceeded them.
Then I unwrapped the bikini bottom. I had ordered the double-string bottom, which was new to me. With all the bikinis I've worn, I have never experienced one like this. The closest was my ex-girlfriend's, which didn't have the string bows, just two parallel strings on each side. I wasn't sure what it would look like in practice, but in the pictures on the website, they were sometimes crossed, sometimes not, sometimes had a string bow, sometimes not. This was the first mystery I wanted to solve; but before that, I couldn't help but notice that the material was not at all what I expected: it was more plastic than smooth like a normal swimsuit. This was going to be a new experience altogether. Also, the silver was more lustrous than in my previous silver bikini. The effect is once again shockingly sexy, far more so than any other bikini I've worn. The sides, meanwhile, turned out to be much closer together than in the picture. At first, I thought they might be completely different from the pictures, but then I realized that the strings are stretchy, and possibly adjustable. I have no doubt that this will be a fantastic new addition to my secret wardrobe. The double string is the best of both worlds: the width of the side and the string combine beautifully to accentuate feminine hips.
The bikini top was a mild surprise as well. This, too, was padded, which should be fun to play-act with. I was expecting more of a brassiere, with a clasp at the back. Instead, it ties both behind the neck and at the back. The material makes it hang together in a way that is completely unlike any other bra I've ever worn. It should be quite fun to experience it.
The metallic silver teddy was the wild card in all of this. I ordered it because it was cheap, and because it appeared to have lace accents and bows at the bottom, which made them much more appealing than a simple metallic bodysuit. I was blown away by the wispiness of the fabric: even though it covers much more than my bikini and undies, it's much less substantial than any of the other pieces I'd unwrapped. It clasps at the bottom, like a good bodysuit. I couldn't hope to fold it again because the material flowed in my hands like liquid. This should be fascinating to put on. It should go quite nicely with my shoes, too.
Last but not least, I released the right shoe from its paper trap and examined it much more closely. I had planned to eyeball it to see if my gargantuan abomination of a foot would even come close to fitting in it, but now that I saw it, the shape made such comparisons utterly impossible. This shoe is so completely different in shape from anything that I've ever touched that looking at it gave me no clue as to whether or not it would fit. This left me with the dizzyingly attractive option of having to try it on.
As I removed my own shoe, a young man walked behind my car, and entered his own, which was parked directly to the right of mine. Only a mere glance into my passenger window would have shown him the open shoe box with pink and white paper strewn inside it. I pretended to fiddle with my music player while he climbed into his car, backed out, and drove away. I got no indication that he even looked at me, or noticed anything at all about what I was doing. Nothing feminine (other than the pink paper and shoe box) was visible.
As soon as he left, I dutifully resumed my mission of trying on the lovely shoe. I kept my sock on, to avoid defiling it with my horrible naked manly foot, and also to have a little slipperiness, like the little nylons they provide at women's shoe stores. I tried desperately to squeeze into the toe, but it wasn't getting to the tip of the shoe. As I forced in my foot, the shoe kept tipping over, and digging into my floor mat. I couldn't see what I was doing down there. At last, I decided to try strapping it on, but I couldn't see the strap, either. However, I was able to get such a length of the strap into the buckle that I am confident that I will succeed, when I have more time and space. Anyhow, there is no larger size. Also, I am able to fit into one pair of my wife's shoes, which are at least two sizes smaller, albeit with much struggle and stretching of straps. The bigger challenge will be walking in them, which will probably also squeeze my toes down lower into the shoe.
As soon as I was satisfied with my divine footwear, I packed it into the box again, and moved all of the paper aside for easy access. I put everything back into the packing box, closed it, and went back to my office. All of this was done in less than 15 minutes.
Now I find myself unable to concentrate, and avoiding work by writing this. I would love to spend more time hidden in the shadows admiring my purchases. Getting to know them will require much more intimacy, however, and much more time.
I nervously looked over each shoulder as I exited the elevator and walked to my car. There was nobody here, and even then, I'd be fairly well hidden in my car. Nobody would even come by, much less have any idea what I was up to.
Once again, I opened my box and unloaded its contents onto the passenger seat. This time, however, I would not be content with merely contemplating each item through its clear plastic wrapper. I needed to examine them much more closely, if for no other reason than to confirm whether they met my expectations. The problem with ordering clothes online is that things look much better on the screen (especially when worn by a stunningly beautiful supermodel) than in the hand. I was already surprised by the apparent padding in both the lingerie bra and the bikini top, never mind the boldness of the shoes. What else might be different from my expectations? Would any of it disappoint?
I started with the satin panties. The first thing I noticed, before I even opened the wrapper, was a pretty bow on the front. I hadn't noticed it in the picture. I was pleased to notice the pretty stitching along the legs, and the lace accents on the front. When I tore open the wrapper and took them out, I unfolded them in front of me. They looked fantastic. I trembled with glee at the thought that someone might see me admiring women's panties in my car. I regretted that I had no way of putting them on then and there. The satin was absurdly soft. This was better than I had even thought it would be. I had expected something much smaller and flimsier, like my wife's microfiber panties. These are more elaborate and somehow more substantial.
Next came the matching bra. I was already delighted by the padding, which I now confirmed was the reason for the volume of the package. I never expected to get this kind of help! Now I could look like I have a reason for owning a bra! Even better was the satin all the way around to the back. This bra is prettier in many ways than any of my wife's. I couldn't wait to wear this with my new panties. I had fairly low expectations for my new underwear, and this far exceeded them.
Then I unwrapped the bikini bottom. I had ordered the double-string bottom, which was new to me. With all the bikinis I've worn, I have never experienced one like this. The closest was my ex-girlfriend's, which didn't have the string bows, just two parallel strings on each side. I wasn't sure what it would look like in practice, but in the pictures on the website, they were sometimes crossed, sometimes not, sometimes had a string bow, sometimes not. This was the first mystery I wanted to solve; but before that, I couldn't help but notice that the material was not at all what I expected: it was more plastic than smooth like a normal swimsuit. This was going to be a new experience altogether. Also, the silver was more lustrous than in my previous silver bikini. The effect is once again shockingly sexy, far more so than any other bikini I've worn. The sides, meanwhile, turned out to be much closer together than in the picture. At first, I thought they might be completely different from the pictures, but then I realized that the strings are stretchy, and possibly adjustable. I have no doubt that this will be a fantastic new addition to my secret wardrobe. The double string is the best of both worlds: the width of the side and the string combine beautifully to accentuate feminine hips.
The bikini top was a mild surprise as well. This, too, was padded, which should be fun to play-act with. I was expecting more of a brassiere, with a clasp at the back. Instead, it ties both behind the neck and at the back. The material makes it hang together in a way that is completely unlike any other bra I've ever worn. It should be quite fun to experience it.
The metallic silver teddy was the wild card in all of this. I ordered it because it was cheap, and because it appeared to have lace accents and bows at the bottom, which made them much more appealing than a simple metallic bodysuit. I was blown away by the wispiness of the fabric: even though it covers much more than my bikini and undies, it's much less substantial than any of the other pieces I'd unwrapped. It clasps at the bottom, like a good bodysuit. I couldn't hope to fold it again because the material flowed in my hands like liquid. This should be fascinating to put on. It should go quite nicely with my shoes, too.
Last but not least, I released the right shoe from its paper trap and examined it much more closely. I had planned to eyeball it to see if my gargantuan abomination of a foot would even come close to fitting in it, but now that I saw it, the shape made such comparisons utterly impossible. This shoe is so completely different in shape from anything that I've ever touched that looking at it gave me no clue as to whether or not it would fit. This left me with the dizzyingly attractive option of having to try it on.
As I removed my own shoe, a young man walked behind my car, and entered his own, which was parked directly to the right of mine. Only a mere glance into my passenger window would have shown him the open shoe box with pink and white paper strewn inside it. I pretended to fiddle with my music player while he climbed into his car, backed out, and drove away. I got no indication that he even looked at me, or noticed anything at all about what I was doing. Nothing feminine (other than the pink paper and shoe box) was visible.
As soon as he left, I dutifully resumed my mission of trying on the lovely shoe. I kept my sock on, to avoid defiling it with my horrible naked manly foot, and also to have a little slipperiness, like the little nylons they provide at women's shoe stores. I tried desperately to squeeze into the toe, but it wasn't getting to the tip of the shoe. As I forced in my foot, the shoe kept tipping over, and digging into my floor mat. I couldn't see what I was doing down there. At last, I decided to try strapping it on, but I couldn't see the strap, either. However, I was able to get such a length of the strap into the buckle that I am confident that I will succeed, when I have more time and space. Anyhow, there is no larger size. Also, I am able to fit into one pair of my wife's shoes, which are at least two sizes smaller, albeit with much struggle and stretching of straps. The bigger challenge will be walking in them, which will probably also squeeze my toes down lower into the shoe.
As soon as I was satisfied with my divine footwear, I packed it into the box again, and moved all of the paper aside for easy access. I put everything back into the packing box, closed it, and went back to my office. All of this was done in less than 15 minutes.
Now I find myself unable to concentrate, and avoiding work by writing this. I would love to spend more time hidden in the shadows admiring my purchases. Getting to know them will require much more intimacy, however, and much more time.
The Unboxing
Today I retrieved from my secret postal box my first secret delivery of feminine attire. This was a bold initial experiment, which cost me quite a bit of money, and delivered me more new stuff at once than I've ever attempted before. I picked up my package from the post office on my way to work. It came in a simple, nondescript cardboard box.
For days, I had anticipated this moment. I could even dare to wear my new panties this very day! That would be incredibly risky: I contemplated how I could even get them on, given the lack of necessary privacy even in the men's room at the office. I also worried about defiling them before I could even really appreciate them.
Already back on the road, yet unable to contain my excitement, I cut the tape sealing the box while waiting at a traffic light. When I pried open the box flaps, I immediately noticed each item sealed into its own plastic bag. One by one, I pulled out these bags and placed them on the passenger seat, for all the world to see: the bikini bra; the satin bra; the bikini panties; the metallic teddy. But where are my satin panties? Did they mess up my order? The shoe box lay at the bottom of the box, with a packing slip and catalog on top of it. Were my panties together with the bra? That would explain the volume of the bra bag. But the packing slip shows it as a separate item, and I did order it separately. The label on the bra bag says nothing about panties. My heart sank with fear of disappointment.
These quick explorations were cut short when the traffic light changed, and I had to go. I quickly tossed everything back into the box, and drove on. Almost every traffic light was green, which would normally be a good thing, but I wanted to spend time inspecting my goods. Where were my damned panties? They had to be hidden inside somehow. I finally hit another red light, and pulled out the shoe box. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the panties in their bag, folded flatter than any other item, underneath where the shoe box had been. I pulled them out and put the shoe box back in, followed by all the other items. Everything was now accounted for.
I finally arrived at work, and pulled into a parking space in the garage. I arrived just in time for a morning meeting, but it would have to wait. Well hidden from prying eyes, I again pulled out all of my new garments, and marveled at each one in its plastic wrapper. Both bras were much puffier than I expected; were they padded? But what I really wanted to see were the shoes. I pulled the shoe box out of the packing box, and placed it on the passenger seat. I cut the tape that held it closed, and peered into it. The shoes were covered in paper. I peeled aside the top layer, revealing the right shoe.
I was stunned by the boldness of the pattern, the shine of the leather, the height of the platform at the toe, and the outrageously feminine shape of the shoe overall. I moved more paper out of the way, and tried to lift it out of the box to get a better look at it. It was still tangled in some packing paper, and as I pulled at it, the sheer height and slenderness of the heel, which had remained hidden, became shockingly evident. I couldn't even see it, yet I was awed and disconcerted by it. I had touched the shoe of a Goddess, and I would soon giddily sacrifice myself to its overwhelming femininity. Somewhat intimidated, I gently released the shoe, closed the box, and put everything back into the packing box. I didn't have time for this.
My heart racing, I rushed up to my office to join the meeting, only five minutes late, still reeling from the realization that I now have incredibly sexy 4 1/2 inch heels, of which I am woefully unworthy. The rest of the day would be spent fantasizing about my new stash.
For days, I had anticipated this moment. I could even dare to wear my new panties this very day! That would be incredibly risky: I contemplated how I could even get them on, given the lack of necessary privacy even in the men's room at the office. I also worried about defiling them before I could even really appreciate them.
Already back on the road, yet unable to contain my excitement, I cut the tape sealing the box while waiting at a traffic light. When I pried open the box flaps, I immediately noticed each item sealed into its own plastic bag. One by one, I pulled out these bags and placed them on the passenger seat, for all the world to see: the bikini bra; the satin bra; the bikini panties; the metallic teddy. But where are my satin panties? Did they mess up my order? The shoe box lay at the bottom of the box, with a packing slip and catalog on top of it. Were my panties together with the bra? That would explain the volume of the bra bag. But the packing slip shows it as a separate item, and I did order it separately. The label on the bra bag says nothing about panties. My heart sank with fear of disappointment.
These quick explorations were cut short when the traffic light changed, and I had to go. I quickly tossed everything back into the box, and drove on. Almost every traffic light was green, which would normally be a good thing, but I wanted to spend time inspecting my goods. Where were my damned panties? They had to be hidden inside somehow. I finally hit another red light, and pulled out the shoe box. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the panties in their bag, folded flatter than any other item, underneath where the shoe box had been. I pulled them out and put the shoe box back in, followed by all the other items. Everything was now accounted for.
I finally arrived at work, and pulled into a parking space in the garage. I arrived just in time for a morning meeting, but it would have to wait. Well hidden from prying eyes, I again pulled out all of my new garments, and marveled at each one in its plastic wrapper. Both bras were much puffier than I expected; were they padded? But what I really wanted to see were the shoes. I pulled the shoe box out of the packing box, and placed it on the passenger seat. I cut the tape that held it closed, and peered into it. The shoes were covered in paper. I peeled aside the top layer, revealing the right shoe.
I was stunned by the boldness of the pattern, the shine of the leather, the height of the platform at the toe, and the outrageously feminine shape of the shoe overall. I moved more paper out of the way, and tried to lift it out of the box to get a better look at it. It was still tangled in some packing paper, and as I pulled at it, the sheer height and slenderness of the heel, which had remained hidden, became shockingly evident. I couldn't even see it, yet I was awed and disconcerted by it. I had touched the shoe of a Goddess, and I would soon giddily sacrifice myself to its overwhelming femininity. Somewhat intimidated, I gently released the shoe, closed the box, and put everything back into the packing box. I didn't have time for this.
My heart racing, I rushed up to my office to join the meeting, only five minutes late, still reeling from the realization that I now have incredibly sexy 4 1/2 inch heels, of which I am woefully unworthy. The rest of the day would be spent fantasizing about my new stash.
Why Fight?
Whenever I browse for girlish things to wear, I inevitably end up concentrating on swimwear. Even before I got myself a PO box to get secret deliveries, I would always spend most of my time contemplating bathing suits.
This goes back to my initial fetish for swimsuits, which were, during my formative years, the only reasonably sexy garments available to me. To this day, I still wear swimwear far more often than anything else. In my nascent fantasies oh so long ago, I used to imagine that lingerie was the next level up, an unattainable wish that I would never be able to fulfill. You'd think that by now I would have made the switch, now that I have virtually unlimited access to just about anything.
I've already placed an order. I'm already getting excited about my next one. And what is it that I'm mainly interested in? Swimsuits! I want to have every possible kind of swimsuit!
It's really quite ridiculous. I keep telling myself that I need more lingerie, that I need to build a panty collection, like any self-respecting sissy. But when I browse, I can't help but gravitate to the swimwear.
So why fight it? It's what I like, isn't it? So what if I have more swimsuits than any woman even has? So what if when I get horny, I have dozens of bikinis to choose from? I might as well just embrace my preverse need for bikinis, and enjoy it!
Therefore, I've decided to stop trying to conform to what I think I'm supposed to do, and either explore every possible facet of swimwear into infinity, or get this swimwear fetish out of my system, whichever comes first.
I hereby embrace my predilection for swimsuits, swimwear, bikinis, monokinis, tankinis. All hail the mighty bikini!
This goes back to my initial fetish for swimsuits, which were, during my formative years, the only reasonably sexy garments available to me. To this day, I still wear swimwear far more often than anything else. In my nascent fantasies oh so long ago, I used to imagine that lingerie was the next level up, an unattainable wish that I would never be able to fulfill. You'd think that by now I would have made the switch, now that I have virtually unlimited access to just about anything.
I've already placed an order. I'm already getting excited about my next one. And what is it that I'm mainly interested in? Swimsuits! I want to have every possible kind of swimsuit!
It's really quite ridiculous. I keep telling myself that I need more lingerie, that I need to build a panty collection, like any self-respecting sissy. But when I browse, I can't help but gravitate to the swimwear.
So why fight it? It's what I like, isn't it? So what if I have more swimsuits than any woman even has? So what if when I get horny, I have dozens of bikinis to choose from? I might as well just embrace my preverse need for bikinis, and enjoy it!
Therefore, I've decided to stop trying to conform to what I think I'm supposed to do, and either explore every possible facet of swimwear into infinity, or get this swimwear fetish out of my system, whichever comes first.
I hereby embrace my predilection for swimsuits, swimwear, bikinis, monokinis, tankinis. All hail the mighty bikini!
First Order
Having secured a PO box for deliveries, I wasted no time in starting to put together an order from my favorite vendor.
The main mission was to fill in my underwear collection. I realized recently that my current stash only includes two pairs of panties, one of which is part of a lingerie outfit. I thought it would be important to embrace my feminine side by wearing panties more often, possibly even when out in public, but I would need a whole lot more for that to be possible.
The first order of business was finding suitable panties, and then getting a matching bra. The ideal panties, in my mind, are silk or satin, and off-white. This is perhaps the first distinction I was able to make between boy underwear and girl underwear, and it seems quite true in its simplicity. Surprisingly, this wasn't the easiest thing to find at a lingerie store, given that they specialize on the edges of the spectrum: fantasy lingerie from the minds of horny men on one side, and comfortable everyday cottons on the other. However, I did pick out a winner: ivory satin bikini panties with lace accents, and a matching bra. For good measure, and given the discount when buying more than one, I also selected the same in black.
Then I fell into the usual trap: I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at swimwear. I wanted something cheap to fill out my collection, and wanted something with decorative hardware. I almost ordered a lovely bikini with rings at the sides, but I balked at the color and pattern, and anyway was unsure whether it really did come with the rings. I instead chose a double-string bikini, in the same metallic silver of my old favorite bikini that I wore hundreds of times back in the day.
The bra I chose was a push-up halter, pictured here in gold.
Now I was ready to complete my order, but I wasn't quite convinced. The total was rather high, and I wondered whether I was really getting exactly what I wanted. I thought about ditching the teddy, but it was so cheap as to make no difference. Then I thought about the underwear. Sure, it would be nice to have more underwear, but I wasn't even totally sure if the kind I had chosen would be suitable. I realized that I was getting sucked in by the discount for buying more than one, and that it wasn't a very good deal after all. So on a whim, and with a devilish grin, I dropped the black panties and bra, and added a pair of super-cute shoes.
I've wanted some tall strappy sandals for a long time, but I've never had the courage to buy any. I've bought FMB's, but I've grown tired of them. At last, I will have appropriate footwear to feed my perversions.
I filled in my info, and clicked submit. I now have a bunch of lady clothes on their way to my secret postal box, and I can't wait to get my hands on all of it.
I'm particularly excited about the shoes.
The main mission was to fill in my underwear collection. I realized recently that my current stash only includes two pairs of panties, one of which is part of a lingerie outfit. I thought it would be important to embrace my feminine side by wearing panties more often, possibly even when out in public, but I would need a whole lot more for that to be possible.
The first order of business was finding suitable panties, and then getting a matching bra. The ideal panties, in my mind, are silk or satin, and off-white. This is perhaps the first distinction I was able to make between boy underwear and girl underwear, and it seems quite true in its simplicity. Surprisingly, this wasn't the easiest thing to find at a lingerie store, given that they specialize on the edges of the spectrum: fantasy lingerie from the minds of horny men on one side, and comfortable everyday cottons on the other. However, I did pick out a winner: ivory satin bikini panties with lace accents, and a matching bra. For good measure, and given the discount when buying more than one, I also selected the same in black.Then I fell into the usual trap: I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at swimwear. I wanted something cheap to fill out my collection, and wanted something with decorative hardware. I almost ordered a lovely bikini with rings at the sides, but I balked at the color and pattern, and anyway was unsure whether it really did come with the rings. I instead chose a double-string bikini, in the same metallic silver of my old favorite bikini that I wore hundreds of times back in the day.The bra I chose was a push-up halter, pictured here in gold.Then I threw in a super-cheap but sexy teddy just for fun. It was only 6.99, and the lace and bows at the legs were simply too pretty for me to pass up at that price.
Now I was ready to complete my order, but I wasn't quite convinced. The total was rather high, and I wondered whether I was really getting exactly what I wanted. I thought about ditching the teddy, but it was so cheap as to make no difference. Then I thought about the underwear. Sure, it would be nice to have more underwear, but I wasn't even totally sure if the kind I had chosen would be suitable. I realized that I was getting sucked in by the discount for buying more than one, and that it wasn't a very good deal after all. So on a whim, and with a devilish grin, I dropped the black panties and bra, and added a pair of super-cute shoes.
I've wanted some tall strappy sandals for a long time, but I've never had the courage to buy any. I've bought FMB's, but I've grown tired of them. At last, I will have appropriate footwear to feed my perversions.
I filled in my info, and clicked submit. I now have a bunch of lady clothes on their way to my secret postal box, and I can't wait to get my hands on all of it.
I'm particularly excited about the shoes.
The Next Level
I've been going crazy reading a set of blogs about some college girls who turn a couple of guys into sissies. Their stories have me obsessed with emulating their predicament.
Over the last few days, I've caught up with all of their collected posts, in order. Every time I come near those blogs, I'm possessed with such an intense desire to feminize myself that I can barely get through reading a post without rushing off to my secret stash and indulging myself.
Alarmingly, as satisfying and gratifying as these sessions have been, I inevitably return moments later, and find myself in the exact same position. No matter how hard I come, I still want more the moment I allow the fantasy to re-enter my mind.
As such, I find myself at a crossroads. For years, I've been dressing up in secret, on average, about twice a week. It'll range from full-on lingerie to simple little prances in bikinis. I've even been documenting all of these incidents in a spreadsheet for the last two years, to keep track of all the things I've worn, and how much fun I've had wearing them. Part of the reason why I've gone to such lengths to track my excursions into womanhood is to figure out just how big a part of my life it really is. I'm a married man, and my wife has no idea; I struggle with hiding my secret from her, and wonder if there's any way I could ever tell her. Another solution would be to stop, but we all know that's not feasible. I've been doing this since I was about 10, and I tried to quit many times when I was a teenager, but I always found myself fatally drawn to resume, always with more intensity. There have been dry spells of months when I didn't feel any particular need to do it, but eventually, the desire comes roaring back, and I'm mincing around in panties again.
In short, I know what I've gotten myself into, and in many ways it's not good. This fetish is baked into my psyche. I'm a sissy, and all of my sexual thoughts revolve around it. Even when I'm making love with my wife, I'm invariably fantasizing about what it must feel like to be her. She has, as I've mentioned, no idea.
My stash is anemic by most sissies' standards. I've had to keep it that way for it to remain well-hidden. But my needs are outgrowing my modest collection. I borrow a lot from T_'s wardrobe, but it's always stressful to avoid leaving suspicious stains or wrinkles, and to put everything back exactly as I found it. Also, she doesn't have everything I want, and some of her clothes (i.e. ALL of her shoes) don't fit me. There are some things she'd never wear, and for those, I've had to take matters into my own hands.
I've developed a strategy for hiding my stash, which I haven't followed particularly well. Sometimes I keep it all in a place where even if I died suddenly, nobody would find it. Currently, I keep it hidden in almost plain view, although under lock and key, such that it could be discovered at almost any time by a determined snoop. Since I never want my wife to find out, I fear that this will lead to disaster. But I need my girlie stuff close at hand! The super-secret spot is not easily accessible, and therefore not conducive to easy pleasure sessions. I had been thinking recently of returning my stash to this spot, for fear of getting caught. Then I found those blogs.
Now I'm seriously considering expanding my collection in a big way. I realized as I followed the sissies' progress that I have very little actual underwear! In fact, I am so biased to swimwear that it takes the place of everything else. Therefore, I desperately need at least a matching bra and panty set, so I can pretend that I have the beginnings of a realistic feminine wardrobe. Then I need to get some variety of panties and a few bras to fill it out. And of course, what would be the use of this if I didn't wear them as often as possible?
That's when the idea popped into my head that I, like the blogging sissies, should wear panties at work, in secret, since it would be so easy for me to do given T_'s schedule. Now I'm obsessed with getting started. I wore my one pair of everyday panties (a blue stretch lace boyshort) all day at the office today.
Now, the trick is getting my new stuff. I tried in the last couple of days to go to Victoria's Secret, but I chickened out. I just don't have the nerve to do it. So instead, I've hatched up a plan to get a post office box, and order everything I want. I would pick up my deliveries during my lunch break, and T_ would never know about it, because I'd stash it all away before she comes home. I can even return stuff I don't like, without having to face the humiliation of going into the store in person! Imagine the possibilities: lingerie, swimsuits, skirts, dresses, SHOES, SHOES, SHOES! All with minimal chance of ever getting caught!
So, the big question is: am I nuts? Just a short while ago, I was going to tone everything down a bit and try to scale back. Now I've swung completely in the opposite direction, and I'm planning to scale up, dramatically. I'm succumbing to my perversion even further than I ever thought possible, by planning to wear women's underwear all day, five days per week, from now on, and essentially placing no limit on what else I can wear.
Should I wait a bit to come to my senses, and abort this crazy plan -- which I've fantasized about before, but gave up as impossible? Or do I go ahead with it anyway, and increase my risk of being caught?
Is it worth it?
Right now, as much as I resist it, the answer is a resounding YES, it is worth it.
Over the last few days, I've caught up with all of their collected posts, in order. Every time I come near those blogs, I'm possessed with such an intense desire to feminize myself that I can barely get through reading a post without rushing off to my secret stash and indulging myself.
Alarmingly, as satisfying and gratifying as these sessions have been, I inevitably return moments later, and find myself in the exact same position. No matter how hard I come, I still want more the moment I allow the fantasy to re-enter my mind.
As such, I find myself at a crossroads. For years, I've been dressing up in secret, on average, about twice a week. It'll range from full-on lingerie to simple little prances in bikinis. I've even been documenting all of these incidents in a spreadsheet for the last two years, to keep track of all the things I've worn, and how much fun I've had wearing them. Part of the reason why I've gone to such lengths to track my excursions into womanhood is to figure out just how big a part of my life it really is. I'm a married man, and my wife has no idea; I struggle with hiding my secret from her, and wonder if there's any way I could ever tell her. Another solution would be to stop, but we all know that's not feasible. I've been doing this since I was about 10, and I tried to quit many times when I was a teenager, but I always found myself fatally drawn to resume, always with more intensity. There have been dry spells of months when I didn't feel any particular need to do it, but eventually, the desire comes roaring back, and I'm mincing around in panties again.
In short, I know what I've gotten myself into, and in many ways it's not good. This fetish is baked into my psyche. I'm a sissy, and all of my sexual thoughts revolve around it. Even when I'm making love with my wife, I'm invariably fantasizing about what it must feel like to be her. She has, as I've mentioned, no idea.
My stash is anemic by most sissies' standards. I've had to keep it that way for it to remain well-hidden. But my needs are outgrowing my modest collection. I borrow a lot from T_'s wardrobe, but it's always stressful to avoid leaving suspicious stains or wrinkles, and to put everything back exactly as I found it. Also, she doesn't have everything I want, and some of her clothes (i.e. ALL of her shoes) don't fit me. There are some things she'd never wear, and for those, I've had to take matters into my own hands.
I've developed a strategy for hiding my stash, which I haven't followed particularly well. Sometimes I keep it all in a place where even if I died suddenly, nobody would find it. Currently, I keep it hidden in almost plain view, although under lock and key, such that it could be discovered at almost any time by a determined snoop. Since I never want my wife to find out, I fear that this will lead to disaster. But I need my girlie stuff close at hand! The super-secret spot is not easily accessible, and therefore not conducive to easy pleasure sessions. I had been thinking recently of returning my stash to this spot, for fear of getting caught. Then I found those blogs.
Now I'm seriously considering expanding my collection in a big way. I realized as I followed the sissies' progress that I have very little actual underwear! In fact, I am so biased to swimwear that it takes the place of everything else. Therefore, I desperately need at least a matching bra and panty set, so I can pretend that I have the beginnings of a realistic feminine wardrobe. Then I need to get some variety of panties and a few bras to fill it out. And of course, what would be the use of this if I didn't wear them as often as possible?
That's when the idea popped into my head that I, like the blogging sissies, should wear panties at work, in secret, since it would be so easy for me to do given T_'s schedule. Now I'm obsessed with getting started. I wore my one pair of everyday panties (a blue stretch lace boyshort) all day at the office today.
Now, the trick is getting my new stuff. I tried in the last couple of days to go to Victoria's Secret, but I chickened out. I just don't have the nerve to do it. So instead, I've hatched up a plan to get a post office box, and order everything I want. I would pick up my deliveries during my lunch break, and T_ would never know about it, because I'd stash it all away before she comes home. I can even return stuff I don't like, without having to face the humiliation of going into the store in person! Imagine the possibilities: lingerie, swimsuits, skirts, dresses, SHOES, SHOES, SHOES! All with minimal chance of ever getting caught!
So, the big question is: am I nuts? Just a short while ago, I was going to tone everything down a bit and try to scale back. Now I've swung completely in the opposite direction, and I'm planning to scale up, dramatically. I'm succumbing to my perversion even further than I ever thought possible, by planning to wear women's underwear all day, five days per week, from now on, and essentially placing no limit on what else I can wear.
Should I wait a bit to come to my senses, and abort this crazy plan -- which I've fantasized about before, but gave up as impossible? Or do I go ahead with it anyway, and increase my risk of being caught?
Is it worth it?
Right now, as much as I resist it, the answer is a resounding YES, it is worth it.
Coming Out and Acceptance Dream
I was in a hotel room with T__, and we were getting ready to go to the swimming pool. I wore a brown tankini of some sort -- it doesn't really make sense, but it was more like a babydoll in that it flowed from the bra cups, even though it was definitely swimwear. T__ was not at all shocked or disturbed or even annoyed: if anything, she was indifferent.
I was excited and anxious, because I'd never come out like this before. It sure was bold of me to come out at a hotel swimming pool! As we went, I was confused by some spaghetti-strap strings hanging from my bathing suit. I didn't know what they were for, or where they went, so I asked T__, who dutifully explained that they tie around my legs, and as she proceeded to tie them for me, I noticed that my legs were totally hairless. It felt erotic to me, but I got the sense that T__ was quite indifferent about it. Yes, this doesn't correspond at all to any type of clothing I've ever seen or heard of, but it's a dream, what do you expect? It may have been some type of flimsy and feminine cover-up.
We got to the pool and settled down. I wasn't shy at all. I just acted like this was perfectly normal. People would come by and congratulate me. "Way to go, good for you!" they said. "Who cares that you like to dress like a girl? It's great that you can feel comfortable enough about yourself that you can come out in public like this." I felt silly for having been so secretive about my fetish for so long, and relieved that I could finally be freely feminine in public.
After that, somehow T__ disappeared to meet her friends, and I was to meet them all later at a restaurant. I went to find her, still wearing my swimsuit, and empowered by the earlier words of encouragement. I was now at peace with the world as a transvestite, and the world was at peace with me. I found T__ and her friends, and they behaved as if it were the most normal thing in the world that I'd be wearing feminine beach wear.
I was excited and anxious, because I'd never come out like this before. It sure was bold of me to come out at a hotel swimming pool! As we went, I was confused by some spaghetti-strap strings hanging from my bathing suit. I didn't know what they were for, or where they went, so I asked T__, who dutifully explained that they tie around my legs, and as she proceeded to tie them for me, I noticed that my legs were totally hairless. It felt erotic to me, but I got the sense that T__ was quite indifferent about it. Yes, this doesn't correspond at all to any type of clothing I've ever seen or heard of, but it's a dream, what do you expect? It may have been some type of flimsy and feminine cover-up.
We got to the pool and settled down. I wasn't shy at all. I just acted like this was perfectly normal. People would come by and congratulate me. "Way to go, good for you!" they said. "Who cares that you like to dress like a girl? It's great that you can feel comfortable enough about yourself that you can come out in public like this." I felt silly for having been so secretive about my fetish for so long, and relieved that I could finally be freely feminine in public.
After that, somehow T__ disappeared to meet her friends, and I was to meet them all later at a restaurant. I went to find her, still wearing my swimsuit, and empowered by the earlier words of encouragement. I was now at peace with the world as a transvestite, and the world was at peace with me. I found T__ and her friends, and they behaved as if it were the most normal thing in the world that I'd be wearing feminine beach wear.
Power in the Battle of the Sexes
Power: for a man, it's physical strength. For a woman, it's beauty, or rather femininity itself.
Thinking about how a woman's power is sly and naughty, while a man's is almost an entitlement, deserved. A man exercising his power is blunt and obvious, as are his objectives; a woman exercising her power is perhaps obvious, but certain subtle, and her objectives are inscrutable.
The crux of it is that a man's power over a woman depends on her power over him: he would not even think to subdue her if not for the fact that she has already seduced him.
This strikes me as incredibly important.
Thinking about how a woman's power is sly and naughty, while a man's is almost an entitlement, deserved. A man exercising his power is blunt and obvious, as are his objectives; a woman exercising her power is perhaps obvious, but certain subtle, and her objectives are inscrutable.
The crux of it is that a man's power over a woman depends on her power over him: he would not even think to subdue her if not for the fact that she has already seduced him.
This strikes me as incredibly important.
Hanky Panky Dream
I have a vague recollection of having a dream recently about frolicking in girl wear with someone else!
I think I was wearing something feminine -- possibly white short-shorts -- and feeling sexy. At some point someone else appeared, a playmate, and I was happy but apprehensive about meeting them. I wasn't at all ashamed or embarrassed about what I was wearing, if indeed I was en femme. Certainly, the person I met was wearing white short-shorts or boyshorts, and not shy about it either.
What little I remember is that this other person had a penis, and I wanted to touch it, to experience cock for the first time. I was excited, but apprehensive. I wanted to feel it in my hand, but worried that I wouldn't enjoy it. Then this person humped my hip.
His penis was small and wimpy, and I was disappointed -- not in the penis, not in my partner, but in myself -- for not being as aroused by it as I had hoped. Instead I was thinking about girls, and pussy, and that this proves what my true preference is. I was at peace with my realization, as I let the gurl hump me.
That's all I remember. The thought of it now is massively arousing.
Go figure.
I think I was wearing something feminine -- possibly white short-shorts -- and feeling sexy. At some point someone else appeared, a playmate, and I was happy but apprehensive about meeting them. I wasn't at all ashamed or embarrassed about what I was wearing, if indeed I was en femme. Certainly, the person I met was wearing white short-shorts or boyshorts, and not shy about it either.
What little I remember is that this other person had a penis, and I wanted to touch it, to experience cock for the first time. I was excited, but apprehensive. I wanted to feel it in my hand, but worried that I wouldn't enjoy it. Then this person humped my hip.
His penis was small and wimpy, and I was disappointed -- not in the penis, not in my partner, but in myself -- for not being as aroused by it as I had hoped. Instead I was thinking about girls, and pussy, and that this proves what my true preference is. I was at peace with my realization, as I let the gurl hump me.
That's all I remember. The thought of it now is massively arousing.
Go figure.
Swimsuit Shopping
T__ has been shopping for a swimsuit. This is fantastic news for me, of course, because I wear her swimsuits, unknown to her, far more often than she does.
This time, she's decided to order everything online from Victoria's Secret. At this time of year, they have little selection in their stores, so she has them mail her a few items at once, tries them on for size and fit, and returns what she doesn't like. They have a very flexible return policy.
She opened the package the day it arrived, and tried everything on. She had two suits, and preferred one to the other, but didn't like the way the panties fit. She decided to send back one entire suit, and order a bunch of different styles of bottoms, to see which fit best. So she folded up the rejected suit and left it in the foyer, so she could mail it back to them at her convenience. Lucky for me, she didn't pack it up.
This time, she's decided to order everything online from Victoria's Secret. At this time of year, they have little selection in their stores, so she has them mail her a few items at once, tries them on for size and fit, and returns what she doesn't like. They have a very flexible return policy.
She opened the package the day it arrived, and tried everything on. She had two suits, and preferred one to the other, but didn't like the way the panties fit. She decided to send back one entire suit, and order a bunch of different styles of bottoms, to see which fit best. So she folded up the rejected suit and left it in the foyer, so she could mail it back to them at her convenience. Lucky for me, she didn't pack it up.
I've had almost no opportunities lately, because I haven't had any time alone. It's been driving me crazy. The temptation was irresistible, and I knew that I only had a very short window of time before they'd disappear forever. I was determined to take advantage of my fortune, no matter how risky.
I couldn't sleep that night. I woke up early, and quietly got out of bed. I shut the bedroom door behind me, and crept to the foyer, to contemplate my torment. I went about my morning routine for a little while, to be sure that T__ remained asleep. Then I sneaked back to the foyer, took my prize, and rushed to the guest bathroom, where I quietly stripped out of my pajamas, and slipped into the glorious rejected bikini:
If you've ever ordered a new string bikini bottom from VS, you know that you have to tie the sides yourself. I fumbled nervously with it for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. I settled on holding it at my crotch with my legs, and tying each side together one at a time, rather than tying it first, then putting it on. The bra was a standard triangle top, which I've become an expert at putting on over the years. It was the first swimsuit I'd ever worn with chunky decorative pieces on it.
Sadly, I had little time, and I was terrified that T__ would wake up and discover that her bikinis weren't where she left them. I rushed to climax there in the bathroom, cleaned up, untied all the knots, and slipped the bra and panties back into their respective plastic bags. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as it could have been, but now I had to say goodbye. Back in my pajamas, I snuck back to the foyer again, and put my prize back exactly how I found it.
This was a few weeks ago now. Amazingly, T__ neglected to send these items back for a couple more days. I could have taken more time with them, but I never knew when they'd disappear. Anyway, I had another bikini to try on.
The very next day, I managed to get some alone time. The bikini she kept was in the bedroom by her dresser. T__ had stuck a panty liner into the panties, for good hygiene's sake, in case she wanted to return it. It had never even occurred to me to wear a panty liner, and I unexpectedly found this highly arousing. The panties were tight, small, and bright pink, but not skimpy like a string bikini. The bra, which she was definitely keeping, is a halter-top, which she likes because of the way it supports her breasts. I savored this one quite a bit more, since I had more time and privacy. The panty liner made me feel like such a limp-wristed sissy! I'll have to do that again sometime.
Finally, last week, the remaining bikini bottoms arrived. Unfortunately, this time I didn't get to even see all of them. She tried them all on, settled on the winner, and sent the rest back, all in one day. I am consoled by the fact that I've tried on so many different bikini bottoms in my life that none of them would have been a particularly new experience. I'll never know for sure, though, because I never even saw them. Except, of course, for the one that she kept.
The one she kept is a foldover low-rise bottom, in bright pink. I'd never touched one before. The part that folds over is the same material as the exterior of the rest of the panty. It softly caresses my hips, but folds sloppily over my ridiculous boy parts. It looks particularly awful on a man, but I didn't care. I had a wonderful time all the same with it and the halter bra she kept to go with it. Now that it's in her closet, it's available to me whenever I can find the time for it. I'll surely wear it again, although it's not my favorite.
Swim Shorts Dream
I was with T___ in a hotel room (IRL, we've got a tropical vacation planned), but we're more like friends than a couple. I think there's somebody else there, maybe my brother (IRL, we never hang out together), in a totally platonic way. We're getting ready to go to the beach. I had to borrow swim trunks, since I had none of my own. Somehow I ended up wearing canary yellow shorts, with white polka dots, which I thought were suspiciously feminine. I mentioned it to T___, and she said they were girls' swimshorts, but that it wouldn't be a big deal, and besides I should start wearing women's clothes in public anyway to get used to it, since I'm now determined to become a woman. That's when I noticed that my body hair was gone, and I was quite happy to venture out to the beach like this.
The Notebook Dream
I had one of those Composition notebooks, and I wrote the name Angélique on it, in fancy script, musing about how I'd love that to be my name. Then my mother arrived with a bunch of people, and she collected notebooks, and laughed jovially when she took mine and saw the clever name I had put on it, like it was a joke on my part. I laughed along with her, nervously, feeling like I came close to having my secret discovered.
Silver Sequined Dress
I dreamed that I put on a very tight silver sequined dress. It was particularly tight on the shoulders, and difficult to put on, but once I had it on, it was exquisite.
Swim race
I dreamed I was in a swim competition, and started out normal, but then I was in a women's one-piece competition swimsuit.
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