It's been over a year since I've posted here. What a shame.
I've been writing my stories very slowly. There just isn't time, now that I have an active toddler. When I do get into the mood, which is still quite often, I'm consuming, not producing. I'm sorry, but I haven't got anything to show you.
My enthusiasm for cross-dressing has changed somewhat over the last year. It has gotten to the point now that whenever I do it, I feel rushed, so I end up climaxing long before I want to. Sometimes I don't even get a full erection. More often than not, I now either borrow my wife's things, or wear nothing and just fantasize while I wank. It has become much more of a cerebral activity. I rarely go to the trouble of digging out my stash anymore. In a way, I like it better like this. The duplicity wears on you after a while.
Thinking back, I used to take such huge risks. I used to wear swimsuits in the garage early in the morning while my wife slept. I no longer feel confident enough that I can get away with such things, and I no longer even feel that it's necessary.
Meanwhile, whenever we have sex, I'm secretly fantasizing about being her, or about becoming a woman. It's the only thing that turns me on. She still hasn't got the slightest clue.
Part of the reason I stopped posting here is that I'm not sure what this blog is for. What do I want to do here? There's such a huge mix of different things going on here that rather than try to continue doing something -- anything -- I just throw my hands up and write nothing. It feels like there are two voices here: the fun one with the sexy fantasies, and the depressing introspective meta-voice of this post. I'm beginning to wonder whether the two should never co-exist. I think they need different blogs.
I've noticed that the blogs that turn me on are most likely heavy on embellishment. Confessional stuff like this is pretty rare, and for a good reason: it's anti-climactic, for the most part. I don't feel quite right about feeding people all kinds of bullshit about my sex life, but I do feel like there needs to be somewhere to reveal these dirty little secrets of mine. As for my fantasies, they'd benefit from being unburdened by any pretense to truth.
Stay tuned. Things are going to change.
Story in the Works
I have a new story in the works. It's been a very long time coming. It's been fun and exciting coming up with the outline, to the point where it's all I can think about, even when I'm making love to my wife. It creeps into my mind when we fool around, and I fantasize about the juicy bits so much that it keeps me hard and ready to go at any time.
The story is about two life-long rivals, constantly competing with each other over money, power, sports, women, and anything else you can think of. One finally gets the upper hand, and utterly destroys the other, taking possession of everything he has, including his woman. Thus defeated, the loser is forced to become his rival and ex-wife's sissy maid slave.
There's nothing particularly revolutionary going on there, but it's awfully fun to write! I'll post some juicy bits as a teaser when I'm further along. It's going to take some time, though, since I can't safely work on it very often, so please, be patient.
The story is about two life-long rivals, constantly competing with each other over money, power, sports, women, and anything else you can think of. One finally gets the upper hand, and utterly destroys the other, taking possession of everything he has, including his woman. Thus defeated, the loser is forced to become his rival and ex-wife's sissy maid slave.
There's nothing particularly revolutionary going on there, but it's awfully fun to write! I'll post some juicy bits as a teaser when I'm further along. It's going to take some time, though, since I can't safely work on it very often, so please, be patient.
My Wife's Panties
My wife is beautiful and sexy. In the mornings and evenings, she tends to strip down to her panties and walk all around the house doing mundane things. She doesn't even do this with the slightest intention of arousing me (at least, not consciously). Naturally, it drives me crazy with lust.
When we fool around, I love to get started with her still in her cute little panties. I like to rub up against them, and feel the fabric on top of her naughty bits. Then when we fuck, I imagine that I'm her, prancing around in her panties, and taking a big fat cock inside her pussy and having her way with it.
Of course, when she's not around, it's a constant struggle to not raid her panty drawer. But I can't help myself. As much as I enjoy my own stash, and there's a huge thrill to having my own panties, she has much more variety. I try to avoid playing with it because I don't want to arouse suspicion, but sometimes I fall hopelessly under a spell, and I must wear a particular one.
For the last few days, I've been obsessed with these silky black tangas with lace trim. She looked so unbelievably hot in them, and I just have to play with them. I'll be quick, but it'll be so worth it.
When we fool around, I love to get started with her still in her cute little panties. I like to rub up against them, and feel the fabric on top of her naughty bits. Then when we fuck, I imagine that I'm her, prancing around in her panties, and taking a big fat cock inside her pussy and having her way with it.
Of course, when she's not around, it's a constant struggle to not raid her panty drawer. But I can't help myself. As much as I enjoy my own stash, and there's a huge thrill to having my own panties, she has much more variety. I try to avoid playing with it because I don't want to arouse suspicion, but sometimes I fall hopelessly under a spell, and I must wear a particular one.
For the last few days, I've been obsessed with these silky black tangas with lace trim. She looked so unbelievably hot in them, and I just have to play with them. I'll be quick, but it'll be so worth it.
Counter-productive Abyss
Given my situation, I have limited windows of opportunity to explore my feminine side. This includes browsing the web for things that interest me, reading other blogs, and so on. It's been a few months now since I posted anything. Partly, this is due to being busy with my obligations as a husband and father. But there's another problem preventing me from producing the work I'd like.
Whenever I do have an opportunity to fulfill my fantasies, I spend much of my time feeding it by looking at pictures of transsexuals, reading other fantasies, and browsing for lingerie and swimsuits. By the end of my window, I have to wank because that's the whole point, and before I know it, my wife is home, and I have to stop immediately and return to normal. I'll have written not a word, and the urges remain, but my time was not spent productively.
Therefore, I have dozens of fantasies and a huge over-complicated story with a large ensemble of characters dancing in my head, just waiting to be committed to writing, and I never get quite enough time to get cracking.
I've thought about stealing time at work to do it surreptitiously, and have done so before, but I'm too busy at work to get into such things there. I have very little time to write at home now that I have a child. So when can I do it?
Whenever I do have an opportunity to fulfill my fantasies, I spend much of my time feeding it by looking at pictures of transsexuals, reading other fantasies, and browsing for lingerie and swimsuits. By the end of my window, I have to wank because that's the whole point, and before I know it, my wife is home, and I have to stop immediately and return to normal. I'll have written not a word, and the urges remain, but my time was not spent productively.
Therefore, I have dozens of fantasies and a huge over-complicated story with a large ensemble of characters dancing in my head, just waiting to be committed to writing, and I never get quite enough time to get cracking.
I've thought about stealing time at work to do it surreptitiously, and have done so before, but I'm too busy at work to get into such things there. I have very little time to write at home now that I have a child. So when can I do it?
Insatiable
While writing that last post, I mentioned knowing that if I had no boundaries, I would wank myself to death. I thought I had written about this before, but searched for it throughout my writings, to no avail. I wanted to link to the article I thought I had written, as a case in point. But there is no such article. Therefore, here's a little story about my insatiability when it comes to feminizing myself.
One evening, with my wife out of town for a bachelorette party or some such, I had decided to make full use of her absence to engage in as much girlish debauchery as I could handle. There was so much that I wanted to wear, and in only one night, that I hardly knew where to start. I have limited ability to recuperate at my age, so every wank must count.
Usually, when she's not far away, I have limited time to enjoy my femininity. I browse around the web for things that interest me for a while, which normally feeds some specific fantasy. I then fulfill it by wearing whichever girlie item fits the fantasy best. Sometimes, I'm already obsessed with some specific garment, and develop an elaborate fantasy around it. In any case, it's over after one wank, so I prefer my fantasy to match what I'm wearing, to maximize my pleasure. At times, this isn't enough to satisfy me, for various reasons. I actually keep a diary of every "incident", including what I wore, how much I enjoyed it on a scale of 1 to 10, and a brief description of the circumstances. Merely documenting this after the fact often launches me into another fantasy, so I find myself wanking again in another garment. This second orgasm is usually much harder to achieve. Interestingly, when making love to my wife, I can never muster the lust to come twice.
On this particular evening, I knew that I had all night. I was ravenous for femininity. I had a plan. Since I had no fear of interference, and total privacy for many, many hours, I decided that I would spend the evening wearing nothing but women's clothes, and sleep in my wife's little slip dress that she left behind under her pillow. I had fantasized many times about doing this, but inevitably my playtime would end after succumbing to the temptation of orgasm. This time, I was determined to at least see how long I could go, and try to avoid masturbating.
I whet my appetite browsing the web for the usual: pictures, stories, captions, videos, and so on. I probably wore swimwear while doing so (my records are sketchy, so I'm not sure). I tried to hold out, but probably lasted only an hour or so. In spite of my ambitions, I achieved my first climax quite quickly after all that preparation. In fact, it was too quick to be fully satisfactory. Thinking of my original plan, rather than giving up right then and there, I changed into a bikini. The thought of actually executing on my plan was so arousing that I couldn't resist coming again, soon after putting it on.
By now, I was already tired. My penis was sore from having climaxed twice. With resignation, I cleaned up the mess, and thought my valiant attempt had no hope of continuing. But there again was that thought: now that I've gotten it out of my system, I can surely wear women's clothes without having to masturbate. This would be somewhat less fun, but satisfying nonetheless, on an entirely different level. I slipped into my corset, stockings and high black boots, figuring that if I was going to do this, I might as well challenge myself.
I settled onto the sofa in my lingerie to watch a movie. I spoke to my wife on the phone. The whole time, I counted my blessings that I could wear such an outfit. I lounged happily in my feminine attire, fondling the lace of my panties and the smooth nylon of my stockings, snapping my garters, and adjusting my bodice. Before long, and much to my delight, I gave in to temptation yet again.
At this point, I would normally start feeling a little ill from all the strain, and more than a little over-satiated. And so it was then. But I had a seed in my head. I felt like I could go no further, but by now I was wondering if I even could cum if I tried. I struggled a bit to think of what I'd want to wear, but the very idea of being such a sissy that I could still climax after everything I had already done, spurred me on. I chose my favorite swimsuit, and carried on, knowing that I still had to somehow sleep wearing panties and a nightie.
It was less difficult than I had thought. It was somewhat painful, as with an overworked muscle, and it hurt to even have an erection, but the overload of femininity was too much to keep me from succeeding. I came again!
It was late by now, and I was exhausted. I felt like there was no amount of masturbation that would cure me of this fetish. All I had to do was allow myself to fantasize, and I could keep cumming over and over again. The idea that this dirty little fetish was impossible to satisfy made me want to come yet again! Somewhat unnerved, I slipped into the nightie and panties as planned, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, excited about sleeping en femme. I was drifting off to sleep, and just wanted to enjoy some sweet girlish dreams. I tried not to think about what I was doing.
It was no use. I woke up in the middle of the night with a massive erection, throbbing with the dull pain of muscular fatigue. I would not be able to sleep until I wanked it out, so I once again satisfied my urges.
By now there was no longer any doubt. I had discovered that there is no practical limit to my arousal when indulging my feminine fantasies. I could literally wank myself to death if I allowed myself to. It was also both arousing and disconcerting to confirm that my ample appetite for straight heterosexual intercourse was far smaller than that for feminization. This was not surprising. That the latter was limitless, was.
By morning, I was so worn out and so sore that I couldn't imagine how I would explain to my wife why I wasn't eager to fuck her when she returned. I schlepped around all day in a fog from my exertions of the night before. I had only now, after all these years, discovered the magnitude of my problem.
One evening, with my wife out of town for a bachelorette party or some such, I had decided to make full use of her absence to engage in as much girlish debauchery as I could handle. There was so much that I wanted to wear, and in only one night, that I hardly knew where to start. I have limited ability to recuperate at my age, so every wank must count.
Usually, when she's not far away, I have limited time to enjoy my femininity. I browse around the web for things that interest me for a while, which normally feeds some specific fantasy. I then fulfill it by wearing whichever girlie item fits the fantasy best. Sometimes, I'm already obsessed with some specific garment, and develop an elaborate fantasy around it. In any case, it's over after one wank, so I prefer my fantasy to match what I'm wearing, to maximize my pleasure. At times, this isn't enough to satisfy me, for various reasons. I actually keep a diary of every "incident", including what I wore, how much I enjoyed it on a scale of 1 to 10, and a brief description of the circumstances. Merely documenting this after the fact often launches me into another fantasy, so I find myself wanking again in another garment. This second orgasm is usually much harder to achieve. Interestingly, when making love to my wife, I can never muster the lust to come twice.
On this particular evening, I knew that I had all night. I was ravenous for femininity. I had a plan. Since I had no fear of interference, and total privacy for many, many hours, I decided that I would spend the evening wearing nothing but women's clothes, and sleep in my wife's little slip dress that she left behind under her pillow. I had fantasized many times about doing this, but inevitably my playtime would end after succumbing to the temptation of orgasm. This time, I was determined to at least see how long I could go, and try to avoid masturbating.
I whet my appetite browsing the web for the usual: pictures, stories, captions, videos, and so on. I probably wore swimwear while doing so (my records are sketchy, so I'm not sure). I tried to hold out, but probably lasted only an hour or so. In spite of my ambitions, I achieved my first climax quite quickly after all that preparation. In fact, it was too quick to be fully satisfactory. Thinking of my original plan, rather than giving up right then and there, I changed into a bikini. The thought of actually executing on my plan was so arousing that I couldn't resist coming again, soon after putting it on.
By now, I was already tired. My penis was sore from having climaxed twice. With resignation, I cleaned up the mess, and thought my valiant attempt had no hope of continuing. But there again was that thought: now that I've gotten it out of my system, I can surely wear women's clothes without having to masturbate. This would be somewhat less fun, but satisfying nonetheless, on an entirely different level. I slipped into my corset, stockings and high black boots, figuring that if I was going to do this, I might as well challenge myself.
I settled onto the sofa in my lingerie to watch a movie. I spoke to my wife on the phone. The whole time, I counted my blessings that I could wear such an outfit. I lounged happily in my feminine attire, fondling the lace of my panties and the smooth nylon of my stockings, snapping my garters, and adjusting my bodice. Before long, and much to my delight, I gave in to temptation yet again.
At this point, I would normally start feeling a little ill from all the strain, and more than a little over-satiated. And so it was then. But I had a seed in my head. I felt like I could go no further, but by now I was wondering if I even could cum if I tried. I struggled a bit to think of what I'd want to wear, but the very idea of being such a sissy that I could still climax after everything I had already done, spurred me on. I chose my favorite swimsuit, and carried on, knowing that I still had to somehow sleep wearing panties and a nightie.
It was less difficult than I had thought. It was somewhat painful, as with an overworked muscle, and it hurt to even have an erection, but the overload of femininity was too much to keep me from succeeding. I came again!
It was late by now, and I was exhausted. I felt like there was no amount of masturbation that would cure me of this fetish. All I had to do was allow myself to fantasize, and I could keep cumming over and over again. The idea that this dirty little fetish was impossible to satisfy made me want to come yet again! Somewhat unnerved, I slipped into the nightie and panties as planned, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, excited about sleeping en femme. I was drifting off to sleep, and just wanted to enjoy some sweet girlish dreams. I tried not to think about what I was doing.
It was no use. I woke up in the middle of the night with a massive erection, throbbing with the dull pain of muscular fatigue. I would not be able to sleep until I wanked it out, so I once again satisfied my urges.
By now there was no longer any doubt. I had discovered that there is no practical limit to my arousal when indulging my feminine fantasies. I could literally wank myself to death if I allowed myself to. It was also both arousing and disconcerting to confirm that my ample appetite for straight heterosexual intercourse was far smaller than that for feminization. This was not surprising. That the latter was limitless, was.
By morning, I was so worn out and so sore that I couldn't imagine how I would explain to my wife why I wasn't eager to fuck her when she returned. I schlepped around all day in a fog from my exertions of the night before. I had only now, after all these years, discovered the magnitude of my problem.
What Could Have Been
Often when I make myself feminine, I think back to some decisions I made years ago, and how different my life might have been had I done things differently.
I had been sharing the rent on a house with a co-worker some years ago, and secretly prancing around in all sorts of lingerie and swimwear. He had no idea. Still, I felt frustrated by my lack of freedom to express my feminine side all throughout the house. When he was out of town, I would take advantage of the opportunity without any fear of discovery. When the time came to move out, I decided that I would get a one-bedroom apartment and live alone, just to allow me the pleasure of living in girlwear whenever I wanted. I imagined ordering lingerie for delivery to my front door on a regular basis, with hardly any risk of discovery.
Pretty much as soon as I moved in, I met a girl, and she was coming over all the time, and we were having sex so often that I could hardly keep up. This naturally left me with very few opportunities to dress up. This same girl is now my wife, and the mother of my child.
The sissy thing to have done would have been to either get rid of her or involve her in my fetish for women's swimwear and lingerie, rather than keeping it secret. She might have stuck around if I had told her or shown her, but it doesn't matter: the point would have been to choose femininity over masculinity.
 |
| My garter slip |
These thoughts brought me to a quick but satisfying climax. And it's not the first time. Even now, as I retell it, I'm getting horny again.
Alas, it was not to be. And yet, I still think I made the right choice. I wouldn't give up my "normal" life, with my loving wife and beautiful baby, even for that. But I can still have fun now and then, pondering how it might have been.
The Trouble with Secrecy
I very recently became a father. Since my wife is in no condition to have sex yet, I have no other outlet for my raging desires other than some barely satisfying dry humping, and my ever-rarer secret girlification sessions.
Of course, this would be much easier if only she knew and approved of my intense desire to become feminine, but she doesn't, and I'm not ready for her to find out, especially now. Therefore, my ability to indulge, and even to write about it, is severely curtailed.
I would love to let her in on my secret, but it's so far past the point of keeping a secret now that it's a terrible lie. I truly and deeply love her, and my new baby, and I wouldn't dare jeopardize my relationship with them both. As much as I love to fantasize about being a girl, my public life has time and again proven to be more important to me. Forced to choose, I choose my family.
All the same, I am unable to give up my compulsion. I sneak into a bikini and heels the moment she leaves the house, whenever I'm sure she'll be gone for a while. And I love every second of it! I don't think I can ever completely give it up, but I can't imagine that it's going to remain this easy to hide my habit from my growing family forever. Therefore, I have to indulge while I still can.
Of course, this would be much easier if only she knew and approved of my intense desire to become feminine, but she doesn't, and I'm not ready for her to find out, especially now. Therefore, my ability to indulge, and even to write about it, is severely curtailed.
I would love to let her in on my secret, but it's so far past the point of keeping a secret now that it's a terrible lie. I truly and deeply love her, and my new baby, and I wouldn't dare jeopardize my relationship with them both. As much as I love to fantasize about being a girl, my public life has time and again proven to be more important to me. Forced to choose, I choose my family.
All the same, I am unable to give up my compulsion. I sneak into a bikini and heels the moment she leaves the house, whenever I'm sure she'll be gone for a while. And I love every second of it! I don't think I can ever completely give it up, but I can't imagine that it's going to remain this easy to hide my habit from my growing family forever. Therefore, I have to indulge while I still can.
Almost Caught
My wife has a reasonably predictable schedule. Since I got her pregnant, she's been going to a particular place for some exercise twice a week. I have often taken advantage of these 2-hour absences to frolic girlishly in my secret stash of lingerie and swimwear. As I noticed her preparing to leave a couple of days ago, my heart leaped with anticipation for the fun I was about to have.
No sooner did she leave did I retrieve my secret stash from its difficult-to-reach hiding place. I eagerly stripped out of my male clothes, and pondered my many feminine options. I had ivory satin on my mind from a scene in an old film noir I had just watched, so I chose my matching panty and bra set. It wasn't really anything like in the movie, except for the color and fabric. I put on my fishnet pantyhose and my little black dress, and finally my lovely 4 1/2 inch heels.
I figured I had a plenty of time to savor my femininity, so I pranced around like this for some time. I made myself a cup of tea, and tried (but failed) to take pictures of myself in my outfit. I love how my shoes make my ass stick out, and how lovely it looks in my LBD, and I wanted to capture it for posterity. I fiddled around with this for a little while and gave up because I wasn't getting the photos quite right.
By now I had worked myself up into quite a lather, so I retired to the bedroom, and wanked. I had just cleaned up the semen, and taken off my dress, when I heard the unmistakable sound of keys fiddling in the front door! And here I was in the bedroom with my stash on the floor, wearing high heels, fishnet pantyhose, satin panties and a bra! I had to hide myself and all my stuff, and fast.
I picked up my stash, and locked myself in the bathroom. I frantically stripped out of my girl clothes, as quietly as possible, and shoved them into my overflowing secret stash box. I had trouble closing it properly because of the haphazard way in which I threw everything in. Once I got it to close and snapped it shut, I noticed a baby blue ribbon from my garter slip sticking out the side. So now I had this ridiculous box, with nowhere to hide it in this small bathroom! She would undoubtedly see my stash box, and wonder what it is and why it's there, and what the blue ribbon is sticking out of it. I was carefully shoving it into a cabinet, the only one where it might fit and not be immediately obvious, when she finally came looking for me.
"Honey," she said from the other side of the door, "you seem to have lost your clothes. What are you doing?"
"I'm taking a crap," I replied, voice quivering, much too close to the door, still trying to conceal my stash box, and making all kinds of suspicious noises.
"Are you O.K.?"
I muttered something in response, and heard her walk away to the other bathroom. "You're funny," she said. I took this opportunity to finish hiding my stuff, put on a sweaty t-shirt I had hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and came out of the bathroom. I wasn't wearing anything but the shirt. She came back as I was putting my pants back on.
"What's wrong," she asked, concerned. "You're so pale! And you're all clammy. Are you sick?"
"Uh, yeah. It must have been something I ate."
"Hey, didn't I make the bed earlier? Did you take a nap or something?"
"Umm, yeah, I was feeling bad,so I had to lie down for a bit."
I couldn't believe I was getting away with this so easily! My heart was pounding as she comforted me in my presumed sickness. I think I was trembling a bit, too. She gave me a couple of almonds to eat, which she had read are good for digestion, and which she happened to be munching on at the time. They were like ashes in my mouth. "I need some water," I said, and stumbled to the kitchen, relieved that she was following me. I poured myself a glass from the tap, and gulped it down. Even that was difficult, but it did help me play sick.
"What happened to you?" she asked. "I leave for half an hour, and all Hell breaks loose!"
Things settled down after that. She's 8 months pregnant, and no longer feeling very mobile, so she sat on the sofa to watch some TV and catch up on Facebook. This gave me a chance to eventually move my stash box from the bathroom to a closet, where I could hide it a little bit better and less conspicuously. But then I worried about it constantly for the next few hours, and eventually moved it somewhere better. I couldn't put it back to its normal place without making a ruckus.
My wife isn't stupid. She surely suspects that I was jerking off in her absence. But bless her heart, she hasn't mentioned it since. This stage of her pregnancy makes it pretty hard for us to be properly intimate, so she knows I'm losing my mind from lack of sex. But at least she still has no idea that I'm a sissy. Somehow, especially now, it would be disastrous if she found out.
The icing on the cake: she now habitually wears some of my t-shirts to bed, because her pregnant belly is so huge that her own pajamas no longer fit around it. Funny how that works, isn't it?
"I miss my clothes," she whines as we cuddle in bed.
"What's the matter? You don't like mine?"
"You don't have dresses, skirts, and pretty shoes!"
Considering how shell-shocked I was (and still am) about that day's incident, I couldn't even look her in the eye as I freaked out inside. "Do you wish I did?" I asked, not hopefully, but accusingly.
Sadly, and predictably, she answered, "No."
 |
| Janet Leigh wearing a gorgeous teddy in A Touch of Evil |
I figured I had a plenty of time to savor my femininity, so I pranced around like this for some time. I made myself a cup of tea, and tried (but failed) to take pictures of myself in my outfit. I love how my shoes make my ass stick out, and how lovely it looks in my LBD, and I wanted to capture it for posterity. I fiddled around with this for a little while and gave up because I wasn't getting the photos quite right.
By now I had worked myself up into quite a lather, so I retired to the bedroom, and wanked. I had just cleaned up the semen, and taken off my dress, when I heard the unmistakable sound of keys fiddling in the front door! And here I was in the bedroom with my stash on the floor, wearing high heels, fishnet pantyhose, satin panties and a bra! I had to hide myself and all my stuff, and fast.
I picked up my stash, and locked myself in the bathroom. I frantically stripped out of my girl clothes, as quietly as possible, and shoved them into my overflowing secret stash box. I had trouble closing it properly because of the haphazard way in which I threw everything in. Once I got it to close and snapped it shut, I noticed a baby blue ribbon from my garter slip sticking out the side. So now I had this ridiculous box, with nowhere to hide it in this small bathroom! She would undoubtedly see my stash box, and wonder what it is and why it's there, and what the blue ribbon is sticking out of it. I was carefully shoving it into a cabinet, the only one where it might fit and not be immediately obvious, when she finally came looking for me.
"Honey," she said from the other side of the door, "you seem to have lost your clothes. What are you doing?"
"I'm taking a crap," I replied, voice quivering, much too close to the door, still trying to conceal my stash box, and making all kinds of suspicious noises.
"Are you O.K.?"
I muttered something in response, and heard her walk away to the other bathroom. "You're funny," she said. I took this opportunity to finish hiding my stuff, put on a sweaty t-shirt I had hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and came out of the bathroom. I wasn't wearing anything but the shirt. She came back as I was putting my pants back on.
"What's wrong," she asked, concerned. "You're so pale! And you're all clammy. Are you sick?"
"Uh, yeah. It must have been something I ate."
"Hey, didn't I make the bed earlier? Did you take a nap or something?"
"Umm, yeah, I was feeling bad,so I had to lie down for a bit."
I couldn't believe I was getting away with this so easily! My heart was pounding as she comforted me in my presumed sickness. I think I was trembling a bit, too. She gave me a couple of almonds to eat, which she had read are good for digestion, and which she happened to be munching on at the time. They were like ashes in my mouth. "I need some water," I said, and stumbled to the kitchen, relieved that she was following me. I poured myself a glass from the tap, and gulped it down. Even that was difficult, but it did help me play sick.
"What happened to you?" she asked. "I leave for half an hour, and all Hell breaks loose!"
Things settled down after that. She's 8 months pregnant, and no longer feeling very mobile, so she sat on the sofa to watch some TV and catch up on Facebook. This gave me a chance to eventually move my stash box from the bathroom to a closet, where I could hide it a little bit better and less conspicuously. But then I worried about it constantly for the next few hours, and eventually moved it somewhere better. I couldn't put it back to its normal place without making a ruckus.
My wife isn't stupid. She surely suspects that I was jerking off in her absence. But bless her heart, she hasn't mentioned it since. This stage of her pregnancy makes it pretty hard for us to be properly intimate, so she knows I'm losing my mind from lack of sex. But at least she still has no idea that I'm a sissy. Somehow, especially now, it would be disastrous if she found out.
The icing on the cake: she now habitually wears some of my t-shirts to bed, because her pregnant belly is so huge that her own pajamas no longer fit around it. Funny how that works, isn't it?
"I miss my clothes," she whines as we cuddle in bed.
"What's the matter? You don't like mine?"
"You don't have dresses, skirts, and pretty shoes!"
Considering how shell-shocked I was (and still am) about that day's incident, I couldn't even look her in the eye as I freaked out inside. "Do you wish I did?" I asked, not hopefully, but accusingly.
Sadly, and predictably, she answered, "No."
The Long-Lost Diary
At last, I've gotten around to publishing my long lost diary, which goes all the way back to the mid-90's. It tracks my thoughts and fantasies through all those years.
Feel free to start at the very beginning. I've added some commentary here and there to explain some things. Rereading it was fascinating for me, as I relived some key events in my development as a sissy. Here it is for posterity, for the whole world to enjoy. Names of people and places have been censored to protect the innocent.
Enjoy!
Feel free to start at the very beginning. I've added some commentary here and there to explain some things. Rereading it was fascinating for me, as I relived some key events in my development as a sissy. Here it is for posterity, for the whole world to enjoy. Names of people and places have been censored to protect the innocent.
Enjoy!
Various Girlie Dreams, and Consequences in Real Life
I've been going crazy with deprivation lately. It's going to blow up soon, and it'll be incredibly fun, but I have to wait for now.
Because of my runaway fantasies, I dreamed last night that I was walking around something like a Las Vegas casino resort, with lots of people around and long distances between places. I was wearing knee-high black boots with pointy toes and high heels, and maybe some sort of lingerie or little black dress. I was light on my feet, and proud of my outfit. I didn't at all care what anybody thought about it.
Some time later, I was playing with eye makeup in my hotel room, when I heard my wife arriving. I had thick black mascara and eye shadow on my right eye, and I was desperate to remove it before she could see me. I managed to rinse it off in the sink just as she arrived, and I had to hide the mascara from her, in my hand, desperate to hide it somewhere. Then the whole dream just devolved into some other events that I only vaguely remember, but all while trying to hide from my wife the fact that I'm wearing something feminine.
As a tribute to my dreams, I'm wearing my black lace-up panties all day, and damn the consequences.
Because of my runaway fantasies, I dreamed last night that I was walking around something like a Las Vegas casino resort, with lots of people around and long distances between places. I was wearing knee-high black boots with pointy toes and high heels, and maybe some sort of lingerie or little black dress. I was light on my feet, and proud of my outfit. I didn't at all care what anybody thought about it.
Some time later, I was playing with eye makeup in my hotel room, when I heard my wife arriving. I had thick black mascara and eye shadow on my right eye, and I was desperate to remove it before she could see me. I managed to rinse it off in the sink just as she arrived, and I had to hide the mascara from her, in my hand, desperate to hide it somewhere. Then the whole dream just devolved into some other events that I only vaguely remember, but all while trying to hide from my wife the fact that I'm wearing something feminine.
As a tribute to my dreams, I'm wearing my black lace-up panties all day, and damn the consequences.
Desperation Leads To Naughtiness
Since I had stashed my new stuff in my messenger bag, I had it with me at work all day. I could think of little else. So when the time came to go home, I was compelled to go to the restroom, hide in a stall, and try it on.
I got as far as the hot pants and one stocking before I gave up. It's all very, very small on me, and it was getting complicated. But I still managed to rub one out right there.
See, this is what happens when I go too long without relief!
I got as far as the hot pants and one stocking before I gave up. It's all very, very small on me, and it was getting complicated. But I still managed to rub one out right there.
See, this is what happens when I go too long without relief!
I ♥ Halloween
I've had so few opportunities to dress up lately, and my pregnant wife is mostly unable to have sex, so I'm losing my mind. I'm going overboard now, fantasizing about feminization everywhere, always. I've gone so far as to discreetly work on my memoirs project at the office.
Another consequence of this lack of proper release is that I've impulsively increased my already cumbersome wardrobe. I already have so many things stashed away that my hiding place strains with plenitude. Yet I couldn't resist getting some more.
I've never taken advantage of Halloween like this before. Every year I fantasize about maybe getting one of those sexy costumes they make for women, but I generally keep my wits. But not this year. I didn't get myself a full costume, but I did succumb to a few accessories that I just happened to find in the drug store's seasonal Halloween section.
We went to look for Halloween accessories over the weekend, and I happened to notice among the costumes some fishnet tights, and a package of fishnet stockings with ruffled hot pants. These were outrageously adorable, and I fixated on them. I felt like I had to have them. Besides, I haven't had fishnets in years. Also, I'd been wanting a pair of opaque nude pantyhose, which I figured I could buy anywhere.
Yesterday, I made a plan to go to the grocery store on the way to work, which would surely have at least the same type of stuff, as well as the nude pantyhose, which I could purchase discreetly at the self-checkout. Unfortunately, the grocery store had a surprisingly scant selection of Halloween attire, and a pathetic pantyhose section. They did, however, have cheap fishnet tights, so I at least got those.
This failure percolated in my head all day. I made plans to try again on my way home, but this time I would go to the same drug store where I had seen the fishnet stockings with ruffled hot pants. When I got there, it was thankfully almost deserted. This gave me ample opportunity to carefully choose what I wanted. I started with the pantyhose. This store seems to only sell sheer pantyhose. I chose what I thought would be the closest to what I wanted, and returned to the Halloween section at the opposite end of the store.
Now there were a couple of children in the same aisle with me, and I tried to keep it cool as I inspected various packages of feminine accessories, with a package of pantyhose in my hand. I carefully selected an unopened package, checked the size, and verified that everything that was supposed to be in the package was included.
Right next to the costume hosiery were various cheap wigs. I figured I would look a lot more feminine with a decent head of hair, so I inspected those, too. The blonde ones looked very sparse, so I went with black instead.
At the checkout, the clerk didn't raise an eyebrow. It was extremely easy. I went back to my car to inspect my goods, and conceal them in my messenger bag. That's when I discovered that my nude pantyhose is sheer, and therefore not at all what I wanted. But the hot pants and stockings look glorious, and I've been dreaming of them ever since. I'm not sure when I'll ever get to wear them, but I'm on the verge of trying them on somehow with my wife in the house.
This is how desperate I've become. I don't even know where I'm going to keep all of this stuff.
Another consequence of this lack of proper release is that I've impulsively increased my already cumbersome wardrobe. I already have so many things stashed away that my hiding place strains with plenitude. Yet I couldn't resist getting some more.
I've never taken advantage of Halloween like this before. Every year I fantasize about maybe getting one of those sexy costumes they make for women, but I generally keep my wits. But not this year. I didn't get myself a full costume, but I did succumb to a few accessories that I just happened to find in the drug store's seasonal Halloween section.
 |
| Fishnets with Ruffled Hot Pants |
Yesterday, I made a plan to go to the grocery store on the way to work, which would surely have at least the same type of stuff, as well as the nude pantyhose, which I could purchase discreetly at the self-checkout. Unfortunately, the grocery store had a surprisingly scant selection of Halloween attire, and a pathetic pantyhose section. They did, however, have cheap fishnet tights, so I at least got those.
This failure percolated in my head all day. I made plans to try again on my way home, but this time I would go to the same drug store where I had seen the fishnet stockings with ruffled hot pants. When I got there, it was thankfully almost deserted. This gave me ample opportunity to carefully choose what I wanted. I started with the pantyhose. This store seems to only sell sheer pantyhose. I chose what I thought would be the closest to what I wanted, and returned to the Halloween section at the opposite end of the store.
Now there were a couple of children in the same aisle with me, and I tried to keep it cool as I inspected various packages of feminine accessories, with a package of pantyhose in my hand. I carefully selected an unopened package, checked the size, and verified that everything that was supposed to be in the package was included.
Right next to the costume hosiery were various cheap wigs. I figured I would look a lot more feminine with a decent head of hair, so I inspected those, too. The blonde ones looked very sparse, so I went with black instead.
At the checkout, the clerk didn't raise an eyebrow. It was extremely easy. I went back to my car to inspect my goods, and conceal them in my messenger bag. That's when I discovered that my nude pantyhose is sheer, and therefore not at all what I wanted. But the hot pants and stockings look glorious, and I've been dreaming of them ever since. I'm not sure when I'll ever get to wear them, but I'm on the verge of trying them on somehow with my wife in the house.
This is how desperate I've become. I don't even know where I'm going to keep all of this stuff.
Lingerie Dream
I've been obsessing over trans fiction lately, as I revisit my old diary. I loaded all of the stories from the long-defunct Michelle's Mid-Day Break onto my e-reader. I read a few last night before going to sleep. My wife has terrible eyesight, so she can't see what I'm reading.
I had a hard time falling asleep, excited as I was about stories of feminization. The one I read just happened to involve wearing a bikini. I tossed and turned fantasizing about how life would be if I hadn't met my wife, and I could wear girls' stuff all the time.
In my dream, T__ was having me try on lingerie outfits, mainly consisting of bustiers and panties. I remember being surprised that she would want me to wear girl clothes. I wasn't at all hiding the fact that I wanted to, but she was choosing what I would try on. In particular, I remember wearing a satiny off-white bustier with black panties and stockings, and then trying on a black bustier with the same panties and stockings. I had a flowing white satin robe on as well. I think I wore makeup, too.
How I wish it were true! But sadly, it's just a dream. She told me once about a disturbing dream she had in which she found me "hideous." I asked her to elaborate, expecting that she'd say I looked deformed like Quasimodo or something, but instead, she complained that I looked feminine, which she found repulsive.
Therefore, I continue to prance behind her back.
I had a hard time falling asleep, excited as I was about stories of feminization. The one I read just happened to involve wearing a bikini. I tossed and turned fantasizing about how life would be if I hadn't met my wife, and I could wear girls' stuff all the time.
In my dream, T__ was having me try on lingerie outfits, mainly consisting of bustiers and panties. I remember being surprised that she would want me to wear girl clothes. I wasn't at all hiding the fact that I wanted to, but she was choosing what I would try on. In particular, I remember wearing a satiny off-white bustier with black panties and stockings, and then trying on a black bustier with the same panties and stockings. I had a flowing white satin robe on as well. I think I wore makeup, too.
How I wish it were true! But sadly, it's just a dream. She told me once about a disturbing dream she had in which she found me "hideous." I asked her to elaborate, expecting that she'd say I looked deformed like Quasimodo or something, but instead, she complained that I looked feminine, which she found repulsive.
Therefore, I continue to prance behind her back.
A Dream: Caught by Mom
I just woke up from a vivid dream in which I was caught wearing a woman's swimsuit.
I was living in my parents' old house, in my old bedroom. It was night. I had a shopping bag full of women's clothes, fresh from the store. I was putting on a one-piece swimsuit, which was completely unlike any I have ever seen: it was a sort of monokini, where the sides of the bottom had to be attached with hooks, like the back of a bra. Putting it on was quite erotic, as I had to delicately attach each side on my hips. The top part had wide shoulder straps. It was brownish, with a sort of wavy pattern. The material was thick, and it was delightfully tight.
No sooner had I strapped myself in, my mother barged into the room -- which she never did in real life -- and started talking as she dropped off some laundry or something. She walked right past me, and I covered myself with dirty clothes that had been piled on the floor, so she wouldn't see what I was wearing.
Somehow, she managed to talk for some time without taking note of me obviously hiding something. I couldn't completely cover myself, so when she turned around, she could clearly see what I was wearing, in spite of my pathetic attempts to hide it. She was obviously annoyed that I was wearing women's clothes "again" and wondered aloud if I was ever going to move on from this phase.
She then proceeded to pick through my shopping bag, and making fun of the slutty tops I had bought myself. For some reason, they were all tops. She was telling me that I had atrocious taste in women's clothes, and asking just why I wanted to wear such things. I sat cowering in the corner, humiliated.
As she got up to leave, I also got up, and came out from under my covers. She had caught me, so there was little point in hiding anymore. I told her firmly that I wear it because I like it. She didn't understand what I said, so I repeated it, heatedly, and felt a swell of pride as I asserted myself.
Then a bunch of other things happened, which I don't clearly remember. It had something to do with my brother passed out in the bathtub of the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, and my mother being more concerned with him and his obviously more serious problems than me and my relatively harmless ones. After she'd taken care of him, she fell asleep on my bed, exhausted (because this all happened in the middle of the night). I was still wearing my swimsuit and walking around the house now, and I was annoyed that she would sleep on my bed. There was nothing even remotely sexual about her being there, in case you're jumping to some Freudian conclusions. I went back to sleep beside her, in my swimsuit.
I woke up disoriented, in a different room, in a different bed, with a different woman sleeping beside me. The dream was so vivid, it took several seconds to adjust back to reality.
I was living in my parents' old house, in my old bedroom. It was night. I had a shopping bag full of women's clothes, fresh from the store. I was putting on a one-piece swimsuit, which was completely unlike any I have ever seen: it was a sort of monokini, where the sides of the bottom had to be attached with hooks, like the back of a bra. Putting it on was quite erotic, as I had to delicately attach each side on my hips. The top part had wide shoulder straps. It was brownish, with a sort of wavy pattern. The material was thick, and it was delightfully tight.
No sooner had I strapped myself in, my mother barged into the room -- which she never did in real life -- and started talking as she dropped off some laundry or something. She walked right past me, and I covered myself with dirty clothes that had been piled on the floor, so she wouldn't see what I was wearing.
Somehow, she managed to talk for some time without taking note of me obviously hiding something. I couldn't completely cover myself, so when she turned around, she could clearly see what I was wearing, in spite of my pathetic attempts to hide it. She was obviously annoyed that I was wearing women's clothes "again" and wondered aloud if I was ever going to move on from this phase.
She then proceeded to pick through my shopping bag, and making fun of the slutty tops I had bought myself. For some reason, they were all tops. She was telling me that I had atrocious taste in women's clothes, and asking just why I wanted to wear such things. I sat cowering in the corner, humiliated.
As she got up to leave, I also got up, and came out from under my covers. She had caught me, so there was little point in hiding anymore. I told her firmly that I wear it because I like it. She didn't understand what I said, so I repeated it, heatedly, and felt a swell of pride as I asserted myself.
Then a bunch of other things happened, which I don't clearly remember. It had something to do with my brother passed out in the bathtub of the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, and my mother being more concerned with him and his obviously more serious problems than me and my relatively harmless ones. After she'd taken care of him, she fell asleep on my bed, exhausted (because this all happened in the middle of the night). I was still wearing my swimsuit and walking around the house now, and I was annoyed that she would sleep on my bed. There was nothing even remotely sexual about her being there, in case you're jumping to some Freudian conclusions. I went back to sleep beside her, in my swimsuit.
I woke up disoriented, in a different room, in a different bed, with a different woman sleeping beside me. The dream was so vivid, it took several seconds to adjust back to reality.
I Finally Got My Swimsuit!
My exchanged swimsuit has finally arrived! I lugged it around all day yesterday, unable to stop thinking about it. I couldn't wait to try it on to see if this one fits. I even considered slipping into it in the restroom at work, but I was thwarted by the impracticality of having to take off all my clothes with the risk of people coming in at any time.
I eventually put it on late at night after coming home from a planned excursion. I snuck into the bathroom to put it on, with the pretext that I was using the toilet. It was still somewhat difficult to get my shoulders through the arm holes, but it was definitely much easier. It still felt like a trap that I couldn't easily escape from, which in itself is arousing. The bathroom wasn't adequate for truly enjoying it, so I decided to retire to my office to continue. To that end, I wanted to hide under my male clothes just in case my wife got up. I couldn't risk just putting my white t-shirt over the top of the suit, because it would be visible through it and would stick out at the back of my neck, so I zipped it down and shimmied my shoulders out without too much trouble, and peeled the top down and folded it into my pants. The bottom part stayed as it was.
Once I was comfortably hidden in my office, I was better able to appreciate it. It took a while to get a good rhythm, given the circumstances, but I did manage to succumb to its femininity. Amazingly, I found it much more difficult to get out of, weakened as I was by my climax.
I'm looking forward to more in-depth experiments.
I eventually put it on late at night after coming home from a planned excursion. I snuck into the bathroom to put it on, with the pretext that I was using the toilet. It was still somewhat difficult to get my shoulders through the arm holes, but it was definitely much easier. It still felt like a trap that I couldn't easily escape from, which in itself is arousing. The bathroom wasn't adequate for truly enjoying it, so I decided to retire to my office to continue. To that end, I wanted to hide under my male clothes just in case my wife got up. I couldn't risk just putting my white t-shirt over the top of the suit, because it would be visible through it and would stick out at the back of my neck, so I zipped it down and shimmied my shoulders out without too much trouble, and peeled the top down and folded it into my pants. The bottom part stayed as it was.
Once I was comfortably hidden in my office, I was better able to appreciate it. It took a while to get a good rhythm, given the circumstances, but I did manage to succumb to its femininity. Amazingly, I found it much more difficult to get out of, weakened as I was by my climax.
I'm looking forward to more in-depth experiments.
Disappointment
Sadly, my wife didn't end up going on her trip. She's feeling too sick from the pregnancy. Therefore, there will be no girlie bender.
Life goes on.
Life goes on.
Almost Busted
Last night I dreamed that I was wearing bikini-cut panties under a tight mini skirt, with garters and stockings. I was intensely aroused, and I woke up near the point of climax. When I got up in the morning, I was still starved for some sort of feminine action.
I've been taking chances lately by carefully putting on one of my new swimsuits in another part of the house while my wife sleeps in. I jumped at the chance this morning, and no sooner had I put on my old favorite and gotten into a nice rhythm than I heard her emerge from the bedroom.
In a panic, I jumped back into my shorts over top of my bikini panties, and whipped off the bra. I wasn't thinking straight, so I partly shut the door -- which I rarely do -- when I heard her, looking to cover myself in case she came by. I had no idea what to do with the bra, so I opened a closet door, thinking I'd toss it in there quickly. I thought better of it, and instead tossed it under a bookcase in a corner where I have a bunch of other junk lying around, hoping she wouldn't see it. I then nonchalantly stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, heart pounding, wondering what I could possibly do with my panties. I gently placed them in the hamper, and covered them with some other stuff which was already there, got my composure back, and came out of the bathroom as if everything were perfectly normal.
She didn't say a thing about any of this. She's struggling with morning sickness, so she was in a daze staring unenthusiastically at a bowl of half-eaten cereal. I was safe!
Ever since then, I've been cranky for losing my chance to cavort in a bikini. Oh, how much easier this could be if she only knew about it and was OK with it! But even then, I'm sure she wouldn't be happy about me jerking off to porn when I think she's not around, like a normal man.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)