Gurls I Admire

I've been longing for some feminine action lately, to the point where I'm contemplating wearing panties at the office under my man-clothes. I ran a quick errand today with my off-white satin panties, and it just feels so much more comfortable! I put on the matching bra when I came home, and felt what I can only describe as relief at feeling the soft fabric against my chest.

Kyoko Matsushita

Of course, I've been looking at my favorites as usual. Some gurls out there deserve recognition for what they've accomplished. They are an inspiration to me, and I envy them deeply.

First and foremost, there's Kyoko Matsushita. She mostly wears swimsuits and pantyhose, and she is absolutely gorgeous. She manages to look like a real woman every time. Her body is slim and curvaceous, and her pictures tickle my swimsuit fetish. She also wears all kinds of form-fitting dresses and lingerie.

Amazingly, she does this in secret. She lives as a man the vast majority of the time.

This makes me fantasize about how practice makes perfect: she's worn girl stuff so many times, and so many different outfits (surely hundreds!) that she practically looks like a woman now. I love the idea that wearing women's clothes will gradually turn a man into a woman. He may think it's harmless at first, that it's OK to get a thrill from it now and then, but that every time he does it, it makes him that much more feminine, until he starts looking like Kyoko Matsushita, and can no longer hide how feminine he's become.

Almost Caught

My wife has a reasonably predictable schedule. Since I got her pregnant, she's been going to a particular place for some exercise twice a week. I have often taken advantage of these 2-hour absences to frolic girlishly in my secret stash of lingerie and swimwear. As I noticed her preparing to leave a couple of days ago, my heart leaped with anticipation for the fun I was about to have.

Janet Leigh wearing a gorgeous teddy in A Touch of Evil

No sooner did she leave did I retrieve my secret stash from its difficult-to-reach hiding place. I eagerly stripped out of my male clothes, and pondered my many feminine options. I had ivory satin on my mind from a scene in an old film noir I had just watched, so I chose my matching panty and bra set. It wasn't really anything like in the movie, except for the color and fabric. I put on my fishnet pantyhose and my little black dress, and finally my lovely 4 1/2 inch heels.

I figured I had a plenty of time to savor my femininity, so I pranced around like this for some time. I made myself a cup of tea, and tried (but failed) to take pictures of myself in my outfit. I love how my shoes make my ass stick out, and how lovely it looks in my LBD, and I wanted to capture it for posterity. I fiddled around with this for a little while and gave up because I wasn't getting the photos quite right.

By now I had worked myself up into quite a lather, so I retired to the bedroom, and wanked. I had just cleaned up the semen, and taken off my dress, when I heard the unmistakable sound of keys fiddling in the front door! And here I was in the bedroom with my stash on the floor, wearing high heels, fishnet pantyhose, satin panties and a bra! I had to hide myself and all my stuff, and fast.

I picked up my stash, and locked myself in the bathroom. I frantically stripped out of my girl clothes, as quietly as possible, and shoved them into my overflowing secret stash box. I had trouble closing it properly because of the haphazard way in which I threw everything in. Once I got it to close and snapped it shut, I noticed a baby blue ribbon from my garter slip sticking out the side. So now I had this ridiculous box, with nowhere to hide it in this small bathroom! She would undoubtedly see my stash box, and wonder what it is and why it's there, and what the blue ribbon is sticking out of it. I was carefully shoving it into a cabinet, the only one where it might fit and not be immediately obvious, when she finally came looking for me.

"Honey," she said from the other side of the door, "you seem to have lost your clothes. What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a crap," I replied, voice quivering, much too close to the door, still trying to conceal my stash box, and making all kinds of suspicious noises.

"Are you O.K.?"

I muttered something in response, and heard her walk away to the other bathroom. "You're funny," she said. I took this opportunity to finish hiding my stuff, put on a sweaty t-shirt I had hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and came out of the bathroom. I wasn't wearing anything but the shirt. She came back as I was putting my pants back on.

"What's wrong," she asked, concerned. "You're so pale! And you're all clammy. Are you sick?"

"Uh, yeah. It must have been something I ate."

"Hey, didn't I make the bed earlier? Did you take a nap or something?"

"Umm, yeah, I was feeling bad,so I had to lie down for a bit."

I couldn't believe I was getting away with this so easily! My heart was pounding as she comforted me in my presumed sickness. I think I was trembling a bit, too. She gave me a couple of almonds to eat, which she had read are good for digestion, and which she happened to be munching on at the time. They were like ashes in my mouth. "I need some water," I said, and stumbled to the kitchen, relieved that she was following me. I poured myself a glass from the tap, and gulped it down. Even that was difficult, but it did help me play sick.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "I leave for half an hour, and all Hell breaks loose!"

Things settled down after that. She's 8 months pregnant, and no longer feeling very mobile, so she sat on the sofa to watch some TV and catch up on Facebook. This gave me a chance to eventually move my stash box from the bathroom to a closet, where I could hide it a little bit better and less conspicuously. But then I worried about it constantly for the next few hours, and eventually moved it somewhere better. I couldn't put it back to its normal place without making a ruckus.

My wife isn't stupid. She surely suspects that I was jerking off in her absence. But bless her heart, she hasn't mentioned it since. This stage of her pregnancy makes it pretty hard for us to be properly intimate, so she knows I'm losing my mind from lack of sex. But at least she still has no idea that I'm a sissy. Somehow, especially now, it would be disastrous if she found out.

The icing on the cake: she now habitually wears some of my t-shirts to bed, because her pregnant belly is so huge that her own pajamas no longer fit around it. Funny how that works, isn't it?

"I miss my clothes," she whines as we cuddle in bed.

"What's the matter? You don't like mine?"

"You don't have dresses, skirts, and pretty shoes!"

Considering how shell-shocked I was (and still am) about that day's incident, I couldn't even look her in the eye as I freaked out inside. "Do you wish I did?" I asked, not hopefully, but accusingly.

Sadly, and predictably, she answered, "No."

The Joy of Tights

As I sit here enjoying my little black dress, I feel like elaborating a bit on how important tights and stockings are to my feminine psyche.

The very first item of feminine clothing I ever wore was a pair of white tights, when I was a wee toddler. It affected me deeply. It was part of a costume for a Kindergarten class play, in which all the children dressed up as flowers. All the boys and girls had to wear white tights as part of the costume.

Already, we boys all knew how taboo this was, but we all did as we were told, and nobody complained. In my mind, they were so different from anything I'd ever worn, and only girls wore them. I liked them, and wanted to wear them to bed, but I wasn't allowed to. I had had my first taste of femininity, and I liked it, even though I had no idea what it implied.

Years later, as I hit puberty, I remembered my white tights. I found myself strangely excited by pretty women, and loved how they all wore tights, stockings, pantyhose. I eventually found the courage to borrow a pair of my mother's pantyhose, and it all went downhill from there. I'm now wearing satin panties, a fancy satin bra, black tights, a little black dress, and knee-high boots with 3-inch heels.

I'm still gaga for girls in tights. Sadly, my wife seldom wears any. There's something fabulously feminine about how they caress the gentle curves of a woman's legs. Their clinginess is like a second skin, and it's incredibly arousing to me to contemplate how feminine they are. They are also mainly worn with dresses and skirts, which makes them even more feminine. I love how smooth and soft they are to the touch.

When I wear stockings or tights, as I am now, I am embracing something uniquely feminine. There's no getting around it: only girls are supposed to wear tights and dresses. There's nothing more girlish. Yes, I love swimsuits and lingerie, too, but this is somehow more fundamental, more public. If I were a real girl, I'd wear tights or stockings almost all the time.

Incorrigible

I've had a decent bit of fun with the garter slip I ordered, but not as much as I'd imagined. Not yet, anyway.

This happens to me every now and then with certain outfits, particularly ones that I'm experimenting with. I latch onto a lovely picture of some garment, and I become obsessed with wearing it. Then I get one, and it's not as much fun as I'd hoped.  In general, I think the first time is never as much fun as later incidents. Often, however, the same garment later becomes one of my favorites.

For example, there's the blue one-piece swimsuit I bought years ago. I had picked it out of a rack at a drug store, and gotten nasty looks from the cashier. When I first wore it, I didn't like it at all. Eventually, it became the one thing I wore most of all! Then there's the teddy I ordered from VS a few months ago. I was unhappy with it the first couple of times, but now it's definitely one of my favorites. I haven't worn it all that often, but something about the lacy fringe on the leg holes drives me absolutely crazy with femininity.

Anyhow, I found my stash to be quite complete after that last purchase, so I didn't renew my P.O. box. I have so much girlie stuff now that I can't even hope to keep up!

But there's always more stuff to be had.

T__ decided to do a bit of spring cleaning. She was going to donate a bunch of stuff, and while she had stepped out for a bit, I inspected the items she was getting rid of. Sadly, one of them was the bikini panties, missing their bra, which she often wore when we first started seeing each other. I've certainly worn those panties far more than her. Those are now gone.  But at the bottom of one of the boxes was a little black dress that she used to wear in those days. I saw an opportunity to have something I wouldn't otherwise be likely to get for myself, so I stashed it away.

Yes, I now own my very own little black dress! Finally, I can wear something reasonable with my stockings and knee-high boots!

I'm wearing it now, along with some pantyhose I bought at the grocery store the other day, and my VS satin panties and bra. I feel like I'm living the dream now.