24 Hours En Femme: a Follow-Up

After I wrote about my day dressed as a woman, I took a long bath in the Jacuzzi tub. I played for a bit with my bathing suits, since I couldn't leave them out of the picture. I modeled each of them in the bathroom mirror, one after the other. It was such a tease, so different from my usual furtive sessions. I settled on the one-piece, which for whatever reason felt the most feminine to me. I tried to draw it out as long as possible, but I came pretty quickly, and very hard. While in the bath, planning my night's escapades, I had decided that I would taste my own jizz, as a way of succumbing to my desire for a feminine experience, so I slurped up some of it, even as the pink fog was lifting. It tasted gamy, not altogether bad, but overall quite gross. It's very hard to remain in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. Nonetheless, I was still excited about sleeping in panties and a nightie. I was fully committed to it.

I had washed some of my lingerie, and had it drying on my towel rack, and it was liberating having all my feminine stuff out in the open. I put on my nightie and panties, and got ready for bed. I had tossed my drab pajamas in the hamper already. As expected, I could hardly help myself from luxuriating in feelings of femininity and reckless abandon. I could take my time, enjoy the idea of remaining in my feminine attire all night, and probably repeat the experience, multiple times.

I eventually dozed off, sleeping uneasily with my tired arousal keeping me in a state of semi-sleep. At some point, the baby woke up crying. He had never seen me in such an outfit, and I had to think about whether to change or not. In the end, I thought it best to just remain in my nightie. I comforted him for a good 30 minutes, rocking him back to sleep while wearing panties and a satiny nightgown! I was a little bit uncomfortable about it. What if he somehow remembers someday? Did he even notice at all? Certainly he rested his head on my bare shoulder, which is usually covered in a t-shirt.

In the morning, I brought myself to climax yet again, and thoroughly exhausted my drive to dress like a woman all day. I had decided to return a couple of things to the store, because I have far too much girlie stuff now to easily conceal. So I ended up not keeping the sports leggings, which I had planned to wear that day. I put them on one last time, and loved how comfy and cozy and sexy they were, and questioned my decision. But in the end, I had to part with them before I ruined them.

I was done for the time being. I cleaned up after myself, the guilt and shame washing over me in anticipation of T__'s return. I was anxious about leaving some trace of my activities. In the end, everything was fine, and she remained oblivious. I was a bit disappointed in my lack of determination to see my plan through, but in the end I came only a couple of hours short. 

Thinking back on it now, I fondly remember pushing the stroller around the neighborhood with girl clothes just under the surface, partly visible, and wish I could do it again soon. I think I might even do it in women's leggings, in public, for all to see, because who even cares? I even put on the dress and tights and shoes last week again during a brief moment alone at home, and thoroughly loved it.

Getting My Fill

By the time I ended my business trip, I had lost all enthusiasm for wearing my nightie overnight. But, since I hadn't brought any of my male pajamas, I had no choice. I was stressing out about having nail polish on my toes, and the effort I would need to remove it in the morning. I was experiencing a girlie hangover.

I found myself hideous in my girl stuff. I couldn't stand the sight of myself. I'm so hairy and pudgy in all the wrong places that I would recoil at the touch of my own body. It wasn't so much a dysphoria as a realization that my body in women's clothes is grotesque. I'm fine with being masculine, and the feminine clothes only made me feel ridiculous and gross.

Of course that didn't cure me of my fetish. One thing that kept nagging at me was a latent desire to wear a bathing suit, which I neglected to bring on my trip. Within a couple of days of arriving home, I put on a one-piece and made myself feel better. Ever since, I've been on a back-to-basics kick centered on swimwear. This culminated a couple of days ago in wearing my most special bikini, and I've been dying for more ever since.

So what the hell happened?

I think this confirms the sad fact that I don't have gender dysphoria. I only wish! I'm perfectly at ease as a man, and if anything I'm uncomfortable about presenting as a woman. I have a long way to go to be even remotely passable as a woman. I haven't even actually ever really tried. All I ever do is fantasize about it, and wank about it, and indulge in a bit of crossdressing. I think if I ever did try to transition, I would have an incredibly difficult time of it.

I've been getting heavily excited about transition before-and-after photos. I'm so envious of the people who have done it, and it fuels my fantasies. I let myself daydream about becoming a woman. I know that people who do actually have gender dysphoria have to live with an incredibly difficult burden. It's horribly shallow of me to wish I suffered from their affliction. It would give me a good reason for developing my fetish, and a goal to aim for. Instead, I have these delightful fantasies whose fulfillment would most likely make me deeply unhappy, and ironically grant me the gender dysphoria I currently and so callously envy, only in the wrong direction.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

The pumps I had ordered never arrived. First, I got a shipment of ugly pendant earrings as a consolation, with a note indicating that the Chinese shoe factory had to close for a while due to summer heat, and that they'd send the shoes as soon as possible. Why this was at all necessary, I'll never know. Eventually, a package arrived, but it wasn't what I had ordered. Instead I got some white knee-high boots, size 8--much too small for my gargantuan feet. I got my money back, but the whole ordeal wasted a couple of months of my time. It's the second time I've ordered glittery pumps, and the second time the order (and the wish) didn't get fulfilled. Never again.

The teddy turned out to be extraordinarily fun. The thrill I get from one-piece swimsuits gets amplified tenfold with a teddy! Somehow it feels like it fits better than any panties I've ever worn. It caresses my hips and naughty parts in a way that makes me feel more feminine than anything else in my stash. I tend to wear this most. The size M fits better, and it's black which unexpectedly gives me a bigger thrill than the size S, which is pink. Go figure.

The blue bathing suit was a bit disappointing. It's nice, but somehow the lining doesn't seem to stick to the outer shell, and it doesn't seem tight enough. I don't think size M is right for me for bathing suits, as they're not tight enough on the hips. Or rather, my hips aren't wide enough.

I'm planning to order pumps from someone more reputable. Maybe my troubles are a sign that it's not meant to be?

Building Up My Stash Again

I went nuts and bought a bunch of girl stuff again. I felt like I really need some shoes, so that was at the top of my shopping list. I ended up buying two pairs: wedge sandals and pumps, both glittery, along with a pair of teddies, back-seam stockings, and two more one-piece swimsuits.

The swimsuits are to replace my previous swimsuit purchases. I've struggled to get the right size. Too many t
imes, I've ordered something far too small, and struggled to get into it. Last time, I ordered size L, but ended up disappointed in the looseness of the fit. Bikinis are much easier, because the main problem with one-piece suits is the torso length. With the larger sizes, the hips end up not being nearly tight enough. This time, I ordered medium. I received one of them already, and it fits pretty well. It's just a bit too short, torso-wise, but the hips fit much better. We'll see how the other one fits when it gets here in September.

The teddies are something I've been thinking about for many years. I had "borrowed" one from a girlfriend many, many years ago, and it was exquisite, but I had almost no access to it. I think I wore it maybe once or twice. I ordered two, again because of concerns about the size: one S, one M. The S fits nicely, so I haven't bothered with the M, and will probably just return it.

As for the shoes, ever since my wife found my stash, discovered my secret, and forced me to purge, I've really missed wearing heels. Something about wearing women's high heels puts my fantasies over the edge. Usually, the focus is on my erogenous zones, but in this case, they're so unnecessary and so gratuitously feminine that somehow they become the best part. I especially like shoes with ankle straps, because they feed a sort of forced feminization fantasy. I've never had access to pumps that fit me. These new ones, when they arrive, will be a new experience. The wedges sprinkle glitter all over the place, so I have to be very careful with them.

The shoes also take up a lot of space, and I'm not sure where to hide them. I'll have to think about it before the pumps arrive, because my current hiding space is just about full.

Contemplating a New Swimsuit

My zip-up scuba one-piece

I currently own at least five swimsuits. Four of them are bikinis, and the fifth is a one-piece that zips up in the front. I tend to gravitate to two of the bikinis when I'm in the mood for some femininity, but I've got a soft spot for one-pieces in general, going back to my earliest dalliances in women's clothing.

A lost favorite. (sigh)

Over the years, I've usually had a go-to one-piece swimsuit that I'd wear about as often as my favorite bikinis. For some reason, there's always room for one in my fantasies. Long ago, in my formative years, I had a mind-blowing epiphany upon wearing a one-piece swimsuit, and the memory of it has stuck with me. In early adulthood, when I finally embraced my fetish, I celebrated by wearing a one-piece swimsuit.

Sexy Grommets

Unfortunately, now that I've fooled around with bikinis and lingerie and sexy shoes, one-piece swimsuits often disappoint me. Often, I'll fantasize about one and put it on, but while I'm wearing it I'll inevitably imagine a bikini, and the fantasy will turn to that instead. The one I have now is just not doing it for me, and it never did the way I'd imagined it would when I bought it. Others I've had have not had this problem. I could go back to them over and over again, and rarely slip into a fantasy about something else. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is that makes some of them more fun than others, but I suppose that's true of just about any category of garment I like to play with.

Metallic and Pink...

Therefore, I'm pining for a new one-piece that can fill that hole in my closet.

Not actually a swimsuit

At this point in time, with my limited opportunities to enjoy womanhood first-hand, it strikes me as foolish to do this. At best, I'll only get to wear it once a week, and that's likely to be pre-empted by a bikini or lingerie a lot of the time. So I don't want to spend much money on it, especially if I don't end up liking it. My wife doesn't own one, and even if she did, it's nearly impossible to borrow such things without leaving tell-tale stains.

Loving the ruffles

Looks like fun

Still, part of the fun of this fetish is trawling swimsuit vendors' websites and fantasizing about wearing the ones that catch my eye. I'm partial to blue and pink, and metallic, and unusual cutouts. What I love about one-piece suits is that they're ostensibly not as overtly sexy as bikinis and underwear, but they're still quintessentially feminine. There's no mistaking it for anything a man could ever wear. I used to fantasize that the tight fabric would shape my body into a woman's hourglass figure. With the style these days being quite different, many attractive one-piece suits no longer even cover the waist, but that makes them in many ways even sexier.

Cute cut-outs

It's always hard shopping online for such things, because it's hard to find the right fit. I struggled with the fit of my yellow zip-up one-piece, and actually had to return it for one that fit better. Even in person, I've bought one-piece suits that were far too small. The tightness of a small swimsuit can be fun, but there's a limit where it's just impossible to even put it on. So I might even dare to buy it in person to be sure that it's something I'll enjoy. Or maybe I'll get more than one, and hopefully at least one of them will work out.

Even if it doesn't, I'm such a sissy, buying women's swimsuits for myself!

Insatiable

While writing that last post, I mentioned knowing that if I had no boundaries, I would wank myself to death. I thought I had written about this before, but searched for it throughout my writings, to no avail. I wanted to link to the article I thought I had written, as a case in point. But there is no such article. Therefore, here's a little story about my insatiability when it comes to feminizing myself.

One evening, with my wife out of town for a bachelorette party or some such, I had decided to make full use of her absence to engage in as much girlish debauchery as I could handle. There was so much that I wanted to wear, and in only one night, that I hardly knew where to start. I have limited ability to recuperate at my age, so every wank must count.

Usually, when she's not far away, I have limited time to enjoy my femininity. I browse around the web for things that interest me for a while, which normally feeds some specific fantasy. I then fulfill it by wearing whichever girlie item fits the fantasy best. Sometimes, I'm already obsessed with some specific garment, and develop an elaborate fantasy around it. In any case, it's over after one wank, so I prefer my fantasy to match what I'm wearing, to maximize my pleasure. At times, this isn't enough to satisfy me, for various reasons. I actually keep a diary of every "incident", including what I wore, how much I enjoyed it on a scale of 1 to 10, and a brief description of the circumstances. Merely documenting this after the fact often launches me into another fantasy, so I find myself wanking again in another garment. This second orgasm is usually much harder to achieve. Interestingly, when making love to my wife, I can never muster the lust to come twice.

On this particular evening, I knew that I had all night. I was ravenous for femininity. I had a plan. Since I had no fear of interference, and total privacy for many, many hours, I decided that I would spend the evening wearing nothing but women's clothes, and sleep in my wife's little slip dress that she left behind under her pillow. I had fantasized many times about doing this, but inevitably my playtime would end after succumbing to the temptation of orgasm. This time, I was determined to at least see how long I could go, and try to avoid masturbating.

I whet my appetite browsing the web for the usual: pictures, stories, captions, videos, and so on. I probably wore swimwear while doing so (my records are sketchy, so I'm not sure). I tried to hold out, but probably lasted only an hour or so. In spite of my ambitions, I achieved my first climax quite quickly after all that preparation. In fact, it was too quick to be fully satisfactory. Thinking of my original plan, rather than giving up right then and there, I changed into a bikini. The thought of actually executing on my plan was so arousing that I couldn't resist coming again, soon after putting it on.

By now, I was already tired. My penis was sore from having climaxed twice. With resignation, I cleaned up the mess, and thought my valiant attempt had no hope of continuing. But there again was that thought: now that I've gotten it out of my system, I can surely wear women's clothes without having to masturbate. This would be somewhat less fun, but satisfying nonetheless, on an entirely different level. I slipped into my corset, stockings and high black boots, figuring that if I was going to do this, I might as well challenge myself.

I settled onto the sofa in my lingerie to watch a movie. I spoke to my wife on the phone. The whole time, I counted my blessings that I could wear such an outfit. I lounged happily in my feminine attire, fondling the lace of my panties and the smooth nylon of my stockings, snapping my garters, and adjusting my bodice. Before long, and much to my delight, I gave in to temptation yet again.

At this point, I would normally start feeling a little ill from all the strain, and more than a little over-satiated. And so it was then. But I had a seed in my head. I felt like I could go no further, but by now I was wondering if I even could cum if I tried. I struggled a bit to think of what I'd want to wear, but the very idea of being such a sissy that I could still climax after everything I had already done, spurred me on. I chose my favorite swimsuit, and carried on, knowing that I still had to somehow sleep wearing panties and a nightie.

It was less difficult than I had thought. It was somewhat painful, as with an overworked muscle, and it hurt to even have an erection, but the overload of femininity was too much to keep me from succeeding. I came again!

It was late by now, and I was exhausted. I felt like there was no amount of masturbation that would cure me of this fetish. All I had to do was allow myself to fantasize, and I could keep cumming over and over again. The idea that this dirty little fetish was impossible to satisfy made me want to come yet again! Somewhat unnerved, I slipped into the nightie and panties as planned, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, excited about sleeping en femme. I was drifting off to sleep, and just wanted to enjoy some sweet girlish dreams. I tried not to think about what I was doing.

It was no use. I woke up in the middle of the night with a massive erection, throbbing with the dull pain of muscular fatigue. I would not be able to sleep until I wanked it out, so I once again satisfied my urges.

By now there was no longer any doubt. I had discovered that there is no practical limit to my arousal when indulging my feminine fantasies. I could literally wank myself to death if I allowed myself to. It was also both arousing and disconcerting to confirm that my ample appetite for straight heterosexual intercourse was far smaller than that for feminization. This was not surprising. That the latter was limitless, was.

By morning, I was so worn out and so sore that I couldn't imagine how I would explain to my wife why I wasn't eager to fuck her when she returned. I schlepped around all day in a fog from my exertions of the night before. I had only now, after all these years, discovered the magnitude of my problem.

A Dream: Caught by Mom

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.

I Finally Got My Swimsuit!

My exchanged swimsuit has finally arrived! I lugged it around all day yesterday, unable to stop thinking about it. I couldn't wait to try it on to see if this one fits. I even considered slipping into it in the restroom at work, but I was thwarted by the impracticality of having to take off all my clothes with the risk of people coming in at any time.

I eventually put it on late at night after coming home from a planned excursion. I snuck into the bathroom to put it on, with the pretext that I was using the toilet.  It was still somewhat difficult to get my shoulders through the arm holes, but it was definitely much easier. It still felt like a trap that I couldn't easily escape from, which in itself is arousing. The bathroom wasn't adequate for truly enjoying it, so I decided to retire to my office to continue. To that end, I wanted to hide under my male clothes just in case my wife got up. I couldn't risk just putting my white t-shirt over the top of the suit, because it would be visible through it and would stick out at the back of my neck, so I zipped it down and shimmied my shoulders out without too much trouble, and peeled the top down and folded it into my pants. The bottom part stayed as it was.

Once I was comfortably hidden in my office, I was better able to appreciate it. It took a while to get a good rhythm, given the circumstances, but I did manage to succumb to its femininity. Amazingly, I found it much more difficult to get out of, weakened as I was by my climax.

I'm looking forward to more in-depth experiments.

Almost Busted

Last night I dreamed that I was wearing bikini-cut panties under a tight mini skirt, with garters and stockings. I was intensely aroused, and I woke up near the point of climax. When I got up in the morning, I was still starved for some sort of feminine action.

I've been taking chances lately by carefully putting on one of my new swimsuits in another part of the house while my wife sleeps in. I jumped at the chance this morning, and no sooner had I put on my old favorite and gotten into a nice rhythm than I heard her emerge from the bedroom.

In a panic, I jumped back into my shorts over top of my bikini panties, and whipped off the bra. I wasn't thinking straight, so I partly shut the door -- which I rarely do -- when I heard her, looking to cover myself in case she came by. I had no idea what to do with the bra, so I opened a closet door, thinking I'd toss it in there quickly. I thought better of it, and instead tossed it under a bookcase in a corner where I have a bunch of other junk lying around, hoping she wouldn't see it. I then nonchalantly stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, heart pounding, wondering what I could possibly do with my panties. I gently placed them in the hamper, and covered them with some other stuff which was already there, got my composure back, and came out of the bathroom as if everything were perfectly normal.

She didn't say a thing about any of this. She's struggling with morning sickness, so she was in a daze staring unenthusiastically at a bowl of half-eaten cereal. I was safe!

Ever since then, I've been cranky for losing my chance to cavort in a bikini. Oh, how much easier this could be if she only knew about it and was OK with it! But even then, I'm sure she wouldn't be happy about me jerking off to porn when I think she's not around, like a normal man.

Swimsuit Extravaganza

My new stuff all arrived on Wednesday. When I picked it up at the post office, the lady behind the counter remarked on the package from Venus. "I know it's not for you," she said, "but I'm sure she'll love it."

These days, it's very difficult to feel like I have the privacy and freedom to play with my feminine wardrobe. It's mostly stashed away somewhere for better times. However, I'm now carrying this new stuff around with me every day, wishing for opportunities to put it on. Lately I've been sneaking it on when the wife's still sleeping, or in the late evening after she's turned in, since she's not feeling well. Of course, I found such an opportunity the night that I received my goods.

I had it all planned out: I would try on the one-piece first, followed by the scuba bikini, then the skirted bikini, and the panties. This way it would follow the fantasy story arc of ever-more feminine outfits. It didn't quite work out the way I'd hoped: the one-piece was too small!

I struggled to get into it, not realizing that it would be so tight. The difficulty was in getting my big manly shoulders into the appropriate places, given that the suit was already just a tad too small. As I struggled to contort my arm fully into it, knowing that my wife was sleeping only 30 feet away, I managed to break the zipper. It was a lost cause, and I was sorely bummed. I'd have to return this one, and possibly have to explain that I damaged it. How humiliating!

Thankfully, the rest of it went very well. The scuba bikini is soft and sweet. The bra especially feels like a dream. The skirted bikini is everything I'd hoped for, and the 5-way bandeau bra is quite spectacular as well. And finally, the all-over lace panties are cute, but the lace-up hiphugger is fantastic!

I retired that night without satisfying my urges, with a plan to slake my thirst in the morning. I hardly slept at all, beset by thoughts of feminization. I had a moment of clarity, where I understood the enormity of my fetish and its inevitable trajectory, but it faded away in the fog of half-sleep.

In the morning, I resumed my adventure. What tormented me most of all the night before was my failure to put on the scuba one-piece. I was determined to try again, doubting that I had truly put in a proper effort. I paid more attention to the fit this time, and yes, it's too tight even on the hips and crotch. But I persevered, and when I managed to get one shoulder tucked in, I knew I was close to Nirvana. The second shoulder was even more difficult, but when I finally twisted it into place, and pulled the suit to its proper place, I was amazed that I had even managed it.

Part of my difficulty had been fear. It was so tight, and so difficult to put on, that I was afraid that I would be unable to remove it. The night before, I was pressed for time; but now I felt more confident that I wouldn't be discovered, so I forged ahead. This time, as many others, fear actually fed my desire. How fantastic would it be to put on an item of feminine attire, and become trapped in it?  I had experienced something similar many years ago when I house-sat for a petite girlfriend and put on her athletic one-piece, which was also too small for me, but not nearly as difficult to deal with. This was on a whole new level of risk, with it being that much more difficult, and also with my wife sleeping so nearby.

Sadly, I knew it was much too tight to be practical. I'd rather have it in a slightly bigger size and be able to enjoy more often. I pranced around in front of a mirror for a bit, and fiddled with the zipper, before I had to remove it to avoid an accident.

I then proceeded to have precisely that accident in the skirted bikini, followed closely by the scuba bikini. I was amazed at how easily I had recuperated. I was now in a spiral of feminine fantasy, which I was forced to escape to embark on another mundane day of work in the real world.

Preparations for a Massive Gurlie Bender

The perils of a double life are really starting to take their toll. My wife is pregnant, and we're both ecstatic about it. However, current arrangements have made it nearly impossible for me to indulge in my secret fantasies. She's always around when I am, which has left me the last few weeks with very few opportunities to prance around in anything feminine. However, the one time I did, it was like I'd forgotten how good it feels, and I re-discovered femininity in a bikini all over again. While I was used to feminizing myself practically every other day, I now treasure these rare moments more than ever before.

It came as a wonderful and welcome surprise to learn the other day that my wife might be taking a 5-day trip at the end of the month. This would leave me alone to my devices the entire time, and given the dearth of opportunities lately and for the foreseeable future, I'm determined to take full advantage.

The plan is to spend pretty much the entire time wearing something girlie. I intend to wear panties at work under my clothes every day, play with lingerie and swimwear and makeup and outerwear when at home, and sleep in at least panties, and possibly nighties every night. I'm going to feminize myself as much as I possibly can.  I want to come as close as possible to living as a girl during this time. I only wish I had some pretext to get rid of my body hair.

In preparation for my bender, I've gone nuts ordering some items I've been fantasizing about for years. Naturally, they're swimsuits. I ordered them today to be sure to get them in time. It's possible that my wife may not take her trip after all, in which case I probably will have to return it all unworn, since I can't imagine when or how I could ever bring any of it into the house undetected.

First, there's the scuba one-piece with the zipper in the front and an adjustable belt, from Venus.  I've been dying to wear one of these since the 80's. I had an intense experience with a one-piece suit in my formative years, after what seemed like ages of fantasizing about wearing one without ever daring to. I always find myself coming back to them. This one in particular has always seemed out of reach. Not anymore!


Speaking of my formative years, it was a short leap from one-piece suits to bikinis in my twisted mind. Swimsuits have always held a very special place in my heart. I couldn't resist also buying this bikini version of the above, in black. Once again, it's a matter of expanding my horizons: I've worn all kinds of bikinis, but only once or twice have I managed to wear one with a belt, or a sports top. The belted one I wore I borrowed, and it was one of my favorites of all time. The belt's accentuation of the hips drove me wild. The sports top was also borrowed from the same dresser, but with a different bottom. It's particularly fun because it's harder to put on and take off. Once it's on, it feels like I'm trapped in it, and I find that very exciting.

Then there's the skirted bikini. The sports top I mentioned above went with a skirted bottom. I had never before thought about wearing such a thing before I discovered this one. The moment I put it on, I was smitten. I wished I could keep it, but alas, I couldn't risk it. Ever since, I've been dreaming of the day I could add one to my collection. The original one had a tight and straight skirt, but this one is ruched, which is quite interesting. Overall the original was sporty, but this one is clearly a fashion suit. I had a hard time choosing a top, but settled on the 5-way bandeau, whose versatility will be a blast to explore.

To complete the plan, I figured I could use a couple more panties, since I'll need undies every day of my binge. Since I've gravitated so much to swimwear, I have only a few panties. These two looked promising. I got the satin lace-up in black, and the all-over lace in ivory.

I'm driving myself crazy with anticipation. I sure hope everything falls into place.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.