I just woke up from a vivid dream in which I was caught wearing a woman's swimsuit.
I was living in my parents' old house, in my old bedroom. It was night. I had a shopping bag full of women's clothes, fresh from the store. I was putting on a one-piece swimsuit, which was completely unlike any I have ever seen: it was a sort of monokini, where the sides of the bottom had to be attached with hooks, like the back of a bra. Putting it on was quite erotic, as I had to delicately attach each side on my hips. The top part had wide shoulder straps. It was brownish, with a sort of wavy pattern. The material was thick, and it was delightfully tight.
No sooner had I strapped myself in, my mother barged into the room -- which she never did in real life -- and started talking as she dropped off some laundry or something. She walked right past me, and I covered myself with dirty clothes that had been piled on the floor, so she wouldn't see what I was wearing.
Somehow, she managed to talk for some time without taking note of me obviously hiding something. I couldn't completely cover myself, so when she turned around, she could clearly see what I was wearing, in spite of my pathetic attempts to hide it. She was obviously annoyed that I was wearing women's clothes "again" and wondered aloud if I was ever going to move on from this phase.
She then proceeded to pick through my shopping bag, and making fun of the slutty tops I had bought myself. For some reason, they were all tops. She was telling me that I had atrocious taste in women's clothes, and asking just why I wanted to wear such things. I sat cowering in the corner, humiliated.
As she got up to leave, I also got up, and came out from under my covers. She had caught me, so there was little point in hiding anymore. I told her firmly that I wear it because I like it. She didn't understand what I said, so I repeated it, heatedly, and felt a swell of pride as I asserted myself.
Then a bunch of other things happened, which I don't clearly remember. It had something to do with my brother passed out in the bathtub of the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, and my mother being more concerned with him and his obviously more serious problems than me and my relatively harmless ones. After she'd taken care of him, she fell asleep on my bed, exhausted (because this all happened in the middle of the night). I was still wearing my swimsuit and walking around the house now, and I was annoyed that she would sleep on my bed. There was nothing even remotely sexual about her being there, in case you're jumping to some Freudian conclusions. I went back to sleep beside her, in my swimsuit.
I woke up disoriented, in a different room, in a different bed, with a different woman sleeping beside me. The dream was so vivid, it took several seconds to adjust back to reality.
Secretly living in my wife's closet: the musings of a closet transvestite. Adult content.
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