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.
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.
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.
I'm driving myself crazy with anticipation. I sure hope everything falls into place.
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.
Diary Transcription Project Continues
Over a year ago, I had started blogifying my many diary entries from years gone by. I had abandoned the project because it's somewhat tedious, but now I'm interested again.
I have accumulated vast amounts of writing about my fantasies over the years, and it seems a shame to have them hidden forever. Of particular note are some epiphanies I had along the way, and how I marked major milestones in my feminine development. The beginning of the diary itself was a major turning point in my life. It was the first time I ever admitted to myself that I love wearing women's clothes. Moving past denial after so many years was instrumental in making me the happy crossdresser that I am today.
I have accumulated vast amounts of writing about my fantasies over the years, and it seems a shame to have them hidden forever. Of particular note are some epiphanies I had along the way, and how I marked major milestones in my feminine development. The beginning of the diary itself was a major turning point in my life. It was the first time I ever admitted to myself that I love wearing women's clothes. Moving past denial after so many years was instrumental in making me the happy crossdresser that I am today.
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.
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.
Shipment #3
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!
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.
Taking Risks
I took a vacation recently with ___, mostly visiting family. In spite of the inclement weather, we had been encouraged to bring swimsuits, just in case. On our second day visiting, we had put our swimwear and towels in a tote bag, but were unable to use them. At the end of the day, our host had gone to bed before us, put away the towels we borrowed, and left our swimsuits neatly folded for us in the bathroom.
I took it upon myself to bring the swimsuits back to our room. I was becoming very excited, having a bikini in my hand with a legitimate reason. Because ___'s suitcase was packed to overflowing, and mine had so much space in it, without a word I tossed both our swimsuits into my suitcase. It was mildly exciting for me to have something feminine among my clothes. I fantasized that her bikini belonged to me.
Henceforth, every single day when I got dressed, I pawed the bikini in my suitcase, longing to wear it, but knowing that it would be practically impossible, and much more humiliating if I managed to get caught. My mind grew fertile with erotic scenarios. This kept me constantly aroused, which my unsuspecting wife benefited from often.
Still, every morning when I touched her bikini, my desire flared up as strong as before. It was becoming unbearable.
By the end of the first week, I arranged to be in our bedroom while she showered, and slipped on the panties for a few brief seconds. I couldn't hear the shower from our room, so I couldn't dare to put on the bra, and my heart pounded with the fear that she could walk back in at any time and catch me. The next day, I made sure of exactly when she stepped into the shower, knowing that it would at least give me a few minutes. This time, much to my satisfaction, I put on the bra as well. I took it off again almost immediately, but glowed with the thrill of having had it on with ___ so near by.
Of course this only whet my appetite for more daring stunts. One morning, as ___ slept soundly, I put on the panties as I sat on the floor by the bed. She lay no more than three feet away, and I dared to wear her panties! I was terrified, and again, only wore them for a few seconds. I had never taken such a risk before. It was both exhilarating and frustrating. I tried to redirect my pent-up fetish into normal matrimonial intimacy, but no matter how many times ___ and I made love, and as glorious and satisfying as it was, my need to be feminine simply would not go away.
Near the end of our trip, I was exhausted from all of the normal tourist activity. ___ always tended to sleep in, and napped in the car between destinations. So, as she chatted with our hosts downstairs, I napped in our bedroom upstairs. But I could hardly sleep, fevered as I was with fantasies of feminization. I could no longer resist. I went to my suitcase, took ___'s bikini, and walked boldly out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom with it in my hand. I locked the door behind me, took off all my clothes, and put on the bikini. I primped in front of the mirror, and happily masturbated. Relief at last! I cleaned up, hid the bikini in my pants, and snuck back to the bedroom, thrilled by my crime, hands shaking as I hid the evidence.
Finally we came home late at night, parked our still-packed suitcases by our own closets, and went to sleep. I woke up early, unable to remain in bed. I was possessed with more transsexual fantasies, and determined to relate my adventure here. Imagine my joy when I discovered another of ___'s bikinis hanging in the second bathroom, set out to dry just before our trip, and since forgotten. With ___ still sleeping soundly several rooms away, I did not hesitate to slip into this one, too, and savor every moment of it.
I think I'm going to get into trouble some day. At this rate, it's likely to be soon.
I took it upon myself to bring the swimsuits back to our room. I was becoming very excited, having a bikini in my hand with a legitimate reason. Because ___'s suitcase was packed to overflowing, and mine had so much space in it, without a word I tossed both our swimsuits into my suitcase. It was mildly exciting for me to have something feminine among my clothes. I fantasized that her bikini belonged to me.
Henceforth, every single day when I got dressed, I pawed the bikini in my suitcase, longing to wear it, but knowing that it would be practically impossible, and much more humiliating if I managed to get caught. My mind grew fertile with erotic scenarios. This kept me constantly aroused, which my unsuspecting wife benefited from often.
Still, every morning when I touched her bikini, my desire flared up as strong as before. It was becoming unbearable.
By the end of the first week, I arranged to be in our bedroom while she showered, and slipped on the panties for a few brief seconds. I couldn't hear the shower from our room, so I couldn't dare to put on the bra, and my heart pounded with the fear that she could walk back in at any time and catch me. The next day, I made sure of exactly when she stepped into the shower, knowing that it would at least give me a few minutes. This time, much to my satisfaction, I put on the bra as well. I took it off again almost immediately, but glowed with the thrill of having had it on with ___ so near by.
Of course this only whet my appetite for more daring stunts. One morning, as ___ slept soundly, I put on the panties as I sat on the floor by the bed. She lay no more than three feet away, and I dared to wear her panties! I was terrified, and again, only wore them for a few seconds. I had never taken such a risk before. It was both exhilarating and frustrating. I tried to redirect my pent-up fetish into normal matrimonial intimacy, but no matter how many times ___ and I made love, and as glorious and satisfying as it was, my need to be feminine simply would not go away.
Near the end of our trip, I was exhausted from all of the normal tourist activity. ___ always tended to sleep in, and napped in the car between destinations. So, as she chatted with our hosts downstairs, I napped in our bedroom upstairs. But I could hardly sleep, fevered as I was with fantasies of feminization. I could no longer resist. I went to my suitcase, took ___'s bikini, and walked boldly out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom with it in my hand. I locked the door behind me, took off all my clothes, and put on the bikini. I primped in front of the mirror, and happily masturbated. Relief at last! I cleaned up, hid the bikini in my pants, and snuck back to the bedroom, thrilled by my crime, hands shaking as I hid the evidence.
Finally we came home late at night, parked our still-packed suitcases by our own closets, and went to sleep. I woke up early, unable to remain in bed. I was possessed with more transsexual fantasies, and determined to relate my adventure here. Imagine my joy when I discovered another of ___'s bikinis hanging in the second bathroom, set out to dry just before our trip, and since forgotten. With ___ still sleeping soundly several rooms away, I did not hesitate to slip into this one, too, and savor every moment of it.
I think I'm going to get into trouble some day. At this rate, it's likely to be soon.
Another Obsession Fulfilled
As an aficionado of women's swimwear, I am keenly aware that the monokini has become fashionable. As such, I have been haunted by it for months. As you all know from my previous posts, I am obsessed with swimsuits, and I have a curious predilection for one-pieces. I have worn dozens of different bathing suits over the years, but I have never even had a chance to wear a monokini. Imagine the appeal: it's sexy like a bikini, fun like a one-piece, and just uncommon enough to be out of reach.
I've made half-baked plans to buy myself one more than once, but have consistently failed to execute on any of them. First, I've concentrated on the basics: I know I love one-pieces and bikinis, so I've always made sure to have access to some of those. Second, trendy as they are, they are still somewhat uncommon. My wife certainly wouldn't wear one because the resulting tan lines would be unappealing. Even stores stock only a few of them, and I suspect that many women, like my wife, avoid them.
With recent adventures, I've had my fill of bikinis. Sure, I'd always love to try on some more, but I have access to so many. My remaining one-piece is always fun, but I've had it for over a year now, so I'm ready for something new. And finally, my wife is taking a 3-day trip in a few weeks, so I'll have some quality alone time. Therefore, I have decided that I now would be a perfect time to get myself a monokini.
I've been keeping a list of links to monokinis I was interested in, mostly at Victoria's Secret. However, as I pondered which one I would purchase, I noticed to my horror that most of my links were broken!
But this was a mixed blessing: my choices may have been fewer, but Victoria's Secret had discontinued many of the items I was interested in, and was clearing out their inventory. This meant that I would have to act fast, before my precious monokinis disappeared forever. I found that the one suit I was particularly interested in was still available online, but not in the color I wanted. I was willing to compromise, and made plans to visit the local store.
I circled around the mall nervously before I worked up the courage to enter the store. There were very few customers, given the time of day. I wandered around, looking for their swimwear displays, and was disappointed to find one small clearance rack. It took a fair amount of courage simply to paw through the items on the rack. I did this tentatively for a few moments before I lost my nerve. I was terrified of looking like some kind of pervert, or of being recognized by someone.
I backed away from the rack, and found the current swimwear display. Unfortunately, it was beside the cashiers' counter, so I'd have to browse the pretty bikinis right next to the staff and a line of customers. I saw no one-piece suits -- much less monokinis -- at all in that small display. I desperately wanted to inspect every single piece of glorious feminine swimwear before me, but I could not dare to so much as touch any of it. I dutifully returned to the clearance rack at the other end of the store.
This time I took my time.
There were a few monokinis of various kinds hanging forlornly upon it, but not the one I had hoped to find. Most of the contents of the clearance rack was bikini bottoms without matching tops, and a few nighties. I was very keen on achieving my goal, so I carefully sought what I wanted. It appeared that all the remaining monokinis were of the PINK line, which I hadn't been particularly interested in. However, one type of suit did catch my attention. This one was certainly of the PINK variety, but it was also hot pink in color, and in a highly appealing metallic texture, and ultra-feminine side ties on the hips. I was getting excited about it. I initially had wanted one in black, but what could be more feminine than this striking pink? I checked the size (small) and price ($44.50, with a 50% discount!) and giddily returned to the cashiers' counter, where I awkwardly stood in line for a few seconds before even more awkwardly paying for my precious monokini. Imagine my pleasant surprise when the suit turned out to be only $12! Apparently, they had already applied a 50% discount, and added another to clear it out.
Oddly enough, the cashier was a straight man. I had never seen a straight man working at Victoria's Secret before. He offered me a membership card, which I politely declined, twice, before ringing me up. I was obviously embarrassed. I wonder if he suspected my motives.
I was so eager to wear it that I smuggled it into the restroom at the office, and, hidden in a big stall at an hour when nobody was around, I put it on. It fit perfectly. I was only disappointed that I wouldn't get to fully enjoy it just then, given the circumstances, so I quickly took it off and smuggled it back out.
I have now had my new monokini stashed in my secret hiding place all week, fantasizing the whole time about wearing it again. Since my wife is out for a couple of hours, I have slipped into it to tell its story. Now that I'm in it, I must confess that it's surely one of the most feminine items I have ever worn. I love it! It will be a key part of my most prurient fantasies for a long time.
I've made half-baked plans to buy myself one more than once, but have consistently failed to execute on any of them. First, I've concentrated on the basics: I know I love one-pieces and bikinis, so I've always made sure to have access to some of those. Second, trendy as they are, they are still somewhat uncommon. My wife certainly wouldn't wear one because the resulting tan lines would be unappealing. Even stores stock only a few of them, and I suspect that many women, like my wife, avoid them.
With recent adventures, I've had my fill of bikinis. Sure, I'd always love to try on some more, but I have access to so many. My remaining one-piece is always fun, but I've had it for over a year now, so I'm ready for something new. And finally, my wife is taking a 3-day trip in a few weeks, so I'll have some quality alone time. Therefore, I have decided that I now would be a perfect time to get myself a monokini.
I've been keeping a list of links to monokinis I was interested in, mostly at Victoria's Secret. However, as I pondered which one I would purchase, I noticed to my horror that most of my links were broken!
But this was a mixed blessing: my choices may have been fewer, but Victoria's Secret had discontinued many of the items I was interested in, and was clearing out their inventory. This meant that I would have to act fast, before my precious monokinis disappeared forever. I found that the one suit I was particularly interested in was still available online, but not in the color I wanted. I was willing to compromise, and made plans to visit the local store.
I circled around the mall nervously before I worked up the courage to enter the store. There were very few customers, given the time of day. I wandered around, looking for their swimwear displays, and was disappointed to find one small clearance rack. It took a fair amount of courage simply to paw through the items on the rack. I did this tentatively for a few moments before I lost my nerve. I was terrified of looking like some kind of pervert, or of being recognized by someone.
I backed away from the rack, and found the current swimwear display. Unfortunately, it was beside the cashiers' counter, so I'd have to browse the pretty bikinis right next to the staff and a line of customers. I saw no one-piece suits -- much less monokinis -- at all in that small display. I desperately wanted to inspect every single piece of glorious feminine swimwear before me, but I could not dare to so much as touch any of it. I dutifully returned to the clearance rack at the other end of the store.
This time I took my time.
There were a few monokinis of various kinds hanging forlornly upon it, but not the one I had hoped to find. Most of the contents of the clearance rack was bikini bottoms without matching tops, and a few nighties. I was very keen on achieving my goal, so I carefully sought what I wanted. It appeared that all the remaining monokinis were of the PINK line, which I hadn't been particularly interested in. However, one type of suit did catch my attention. This one was certainly of the PINK variety, but it was also hot pink in color, and in a highly appealing metallic texture, and ultra-feminine side ties on the hips. I was getting excited about it. I initially had wanted one in black, but what could be more feminine than this striking pink? I checked the size (small) and price ($44.50, with a 50% discount!) and giddily returned to the cashiers' counter, where I awkwardly stood in line for a few seconds before even more awkwardly paying for my precious monokini. Imagine my pleasant surprise when the suit turned out to be only $12! Apparently, they had already applied a 50% discount, and added another to clear it out.
Oddly enough, the cashier was a straight man. I had never seen a straight man working at Victoria's Secret before. He offered me a membership card, which I politely declined, twice, before ringing me up. I was obviously embarrassed. I wonder if he suspected my motives.
I was so eager to wear it that I smuggled it into the restroom at the office, and, hidden in a big stall at an hour when nobody was around, I put it on. It fit perfectly. I was only disappointed that I wouldn't get to fully enjoy it just then, given the circumstances, so I quickly took it off and smuggled it back out.
I have now had my new monokini stashed in my secret hiding place all week, fantasizing the whole time about wearing it again. Since my wife is out for a couple of hours, I have slipped into it to tell its story. Now that I'm in it, I must confess that it's surely one of the most feminine items I have ever worn. I love it! It will be a key part of my most prurient fantasies for a long time.
Caution to the Wind
Every now and then, after a day spent ogling gorgeous scantily clad women on a blistering hot day, I get a moment to myself to indulge in my habit. It just so happened today that my lovely wife, who had gone for a swim earlier in the week, and had left one of her bikinis hanging tauntingly on the towel rack in the bathroom, was occupied in the city for a few hours, where I was to join her after running some errands. Part of my errand involved me returning home alone, which left me a small window of opportunity, which I recklessly leapt through.
Before I even got home, I knew what I was going to do. I wanted to savor the moment, and enjoy it to its fullest. I had gone to pick up some groceries, and had to put them away. As soon as I arrived, I dumped them on the counter and scurried off lecherously to the bedroom, where I immediately leapt out of my clothes, and raced to the bathroom to put on ___'s lovely white bikini. However, for whatever reason, I wasn't all that interested in it. Instead, I found myself opening my secret stash for my green side-tie bikini, which has served me so well in the past. Once again, I lusted for her trusty wedge sandals to push my femininity over the top. Thus attired, and member tucked neatly between my legs, I proceeded to put away the groceries, slowly and deliberately, reveling in my womanliness.
These shoes are, as I've mentioned before, much too small for my grotesque man-feet, and the straps barely fit around my ankles. When I wear them even for a short time, they leave marks around my toes and under the straps. Imagine what it looks like after I wear them for a half hour or so! I was fully aware of this when I put them on, and this knowledge that I would show tell-tale signs of my crime for hours longer aroused my passions even more.
After I succumbed to a hot and sweaty pleasure attack, blissfully satisfied, I cleaned up after myself, and put everything away. Only now I had to deal with the marks on my feet, which wouldn't go away. It being a hot summer day, I had no choice but to rush out to meet my wife in the city, wearing my own manly sandals, but with strange red strap marks around my ankles.
Nobody noticed, thank Goddess!
Before I even got home, I knew what I was going to do. I wanted to savor the moment, and enjoy it to its fullest. I had gone to pick up some groceries, and had to put them away. As soon as I arrived, I dumped them on the counter and scurried off lecherously to the bedroom, where I immediately leapt out of my clothes, and raced to the bathroom to put on ___'s lovely white bikini. However, for whatever reason, I wasn't all that interested in it. Instead, I found myself opening my secret stash for my green side-tie bikini, which has served me so well in the past. Once again, I lusted for her trusty wedge sandals to push my femininity over the top. Thus attired, and member tucked neatly between my legs, I proceeded to put away the groceries, slowly and deliberately, reveling in my womanliness.
These shoes are, as I've mentioned before, much too small for my grotesque man-feet, and the straps barely fit around my ankles. When I wear them even for a short time, they leave marks around my toes and under the straps. Imagine what it looks like after I wear them for a half hour or so! I was fully aware of this when I put them on, and this knowledge that I would show tell-tale signs of my crime for hours longer aroused my passions even more.
After I succumbed to a hot and sweaty pleasure attack, blissfully satisfied, I cleaned up after myself, and put everything away. Only now I had to deal with the marks on my feet, which wouldn't go away. It being a hot summer day, I had no choice but to rush out to meet my wife in the city, wearing my own manly sandals, but with strange red strap marks around my ankles.
Nobody noticed, thank Goddess!
Opportunity Knocks
Once again, ___ invited her friend over. They planned to go shopping for a few hours, and then return and hang out at the community swimming pool. Yes, that would be the very same friend whose trust I had previously violated about a year ago.
It took a few moments of weak hesitation after they left before I carefully pawed through her bag to see what she might have brought. At the very top, rolled up and protruding sideways , something made of denim -- a pair of jeans, I thought, disappointed -- concealed everything else. When I pulled it out to inspect the deeper contents of the bag, careful to keep it as much in its current form as possible so I could replace it without raising suspicions, I noticed that the denim was much too short to be a pair of pants. Probably shorts, I guessed.
But no. It was a miniskirt.
I couldn't believe my luck. How many times had I dreamed of wearing a denim miniskirt over a bikini, like all the pretty girls do near the beach? I had even contemplated buying myself one, because it seems to me to be an invaluable part of any woman's wardrobe -- except for my wife's. And to think that I hadn't even looked inside the bag yet!
As expected, the bag also contained a swimsuit. As I cautiously lifted it out of the bag, again studying how it was folded and positioned under the miniskirt, I felt the softness of the charcoal gray microfiber fabric, and noticed the sexy ties on the sides of the panties left a hole through which to peek a tantalizing bit of skin. It was so soft that I immediately thought it must be some fancy Victoria's Secret bikini, but a quick glance at the label surprised me: it was Mossimo. The bra was a cute halter, which wasn't very revealing, but not at all disappointing. I have a weakness for substantial bras, especially halters, whose size constantly reminds me of what I'm wearing.
I trembled from the thrill of it. I had to put it all on, and there would be no way to avoid wearing ___'s trusty old wedge sandals to complete the ensemble. I had a lovely little beach outfit to put on, and I had no idea when my play time would be over. For all I knew, they'd be back in 30 minutes. I had no time to waste.
I quickly brought all of these feminine items into the bedroom. I stripped out of all my clothes, slipped into the remarkably soft panties, and was immediately smitten. The fit was delightfully snug, perfect for feeling the gentle touch of the feminine fabric in its erotic shape. Then I tied myself into the bra, and luxuriated in the silkiness over my chest. What a shame that I can't do this more often! At last, I stepped into the miniskirt and pulled it up. It was very tight around my waist, and I was a bit worried about my member leaving a little goo on it, so I was careful about how I put it on.
Before I could even get to the sandals, I was possessed with ecstasy for a moment, overwhelmed by the softness and tightness of the bikini, and the fact that I was finally, for the first time ever, wearing a denim miniskirt. I composed myself, knowing that the moment would be wasted without the wedge sandals, which are a key part of the outfit. Why bother wearing a miniskirt if I'm not going to show off my legs?
Of course, much of the enjoyment I get from women's shoes is that they're the last bit to put on. I love fighting with the straps of these little sandal wedges, which are much too small for me, while I'm already tarted up in a bikini and miniskirt. I already felt fantastically erotic, but this last touch simply put me over the top. I only got to take a few steps in my dream outfit before I collapsed into feminine ecstasy.
Alas! If only I had had more time! I could have savored this precious moment for much longer, and enjoyed it to its fullest. Instead, I worried about ___ bursting through the door at any moment, so I satisfied myself quickly, and made a bit of a mess (quickly cleaned up) as I frantically undressed and placed everything back in its rightful spot. I no longer had any idea how any of these heavenly items had been placed in the bag, and I tried a few different ways of packing it, but in the end I realized that there was no way to be sure. I would have to suffer the anxiety of someone noticing for the rest of the day.
The ladies finally returned a few hours later, and I kicked myself for not having taken more time. They immediately prepared for the pool, and ___'s friend described what a bargain her bikini had been at Target, and how she would never feel comfortable wearing such a short skirt anywhere but at a beach or swimming pool. I felt relief and envy as she disappeared into the guest bathroom to change into what I had already worn.
It took a few moments of weak hesitation after they left before I carefully pawed through her bag to see what she might have brought. At the very top, rolled up and protruding sideways , something made of denim -- a pair of jeans, I thought, disappointed -- concealed everything else. When I pulled it out to inspect the deeper contents of the bag, careful to keep it as much in its current form as possible so I could replace it without raising suspicions, I noticed that the denim was much too short to be a pair of pants. Probably shorts, I guessed.
But no. It was a miniskirt.
I couldn't believe my luck. How many times had I dreamed of wearing a denim miniskirt over a bikini, like all the pretty girls do near the beach? I had even contemplated buying myself one, because it seems to me to be an invaluable part of any woman's wardrobe -- except for my wife's. And to think that I hadn't even looked inside the bag yet!
As expected, the bag also contained a swimsuit. As I cautiously lifted it out of the bag, again studying how it was folded and positioned under the miniskirt, I felt the softness of the charcoal gray microfiber fabric, and noticed the sexy ties on the sides of the panties left a hole through which to peek a tantalizing bit of skin. It was so soft that I immediately thought it must be some fancy Victoria's Secret bikini, but a quick glance at the label surprised me: it was Mossimo. The bra was a cute halter, which wasn't very revealing, but not at all disappointing. I have a weakness for substantial bras, especially halters, whose size constantly reminds me of what I'm wearing.
I trembled from the thrill of it. I had to put it all on, and there would be no way to avoid wearing ___'s trusty old wedge sandals to complete the ensemble. I had a lovely little beach outfit to put on, and I had no idea when my play time would be over. For all I knew, they'd be back in 30 minutes. I had no time to waste.
I quickly brought all of these feminine items into the bedroom. I stripped out of all my clothes, slipped into the remarkably soft panties, and was immediately smitten. The fit was delightfully snug, perfect for feeling the gentle touch of the feminine fabric in its erotic shape. Then I tied myself into the bra, and luxuriated in the silkiness over my chest. What a shame that I can't do this more often! At last, I stepped into the miniskirt and pulled it up. It was very tight around my waist, and I was a bit worried about my member leaving a little goo on it, so I was careful about how I put it on.
Before I could even get to the sandals, I was possessed with ecstasy for a moment, overwhelmed by the softness and tightness of the bikini, and the fact that I was finally, for the first time ever, wearing a denim miniskirt. I composed myself, knowing that the moment would be wasted without the wedge sandals, which are a key part of the outfit. Why bother wearing a miniskirt if I'm not going to show off my legs?
Of course, much of the enjoyment I get from women's shoes is that they're the last bit to put on. I love fighting with the straps of these little sandal wedges, which are much too small for me, while I'm already tarted up in a bikini and miniskirt. I already felt fantastically erotic, but this last touch simply put me over the top. I only got to take a few steps in my dream outfit before I collapsed into feminine ecstasy.
Alas! If only I had had more time! I could have savored this precious moment for much longer, and enjoyed it to its fullest. Instead, I worried about ___ bursting through the door at any moment, so I satisfied myself quickly, and made a bit of a mess (quickly cleaned up) as I frantically undressed and placed everything back in its rightful spot. I no longer had any idea how any of these heavenly items had been placed in the bag, and I tried a few different ways of packing it, but in the end I realized that there was no way to be sure. I would have to suffer the anxiety of someone noticing for the rest of the day.
The ladies finally returned a few hours later, and I kicked myself for not having taken more time. They immediately prepared for the pool, and ___'s friend described what a bargain her bikini had been at Target, and how she would never feel comfortable wearing such a short skirt anywhere but at a beach or swimming pool. I felt relief and envy as she disappeared into the guest bathroom to change into what I had already worn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)