I’m a Bit Tied Up Now, Sweetie, Maybe Later

Pantyhose fetish legs

Part 1: Happy Hour

Carl was just finishing up his work at the National Bank downtown. Normally, he would just get in his car and drive home but this particular day had taken a toll. Refinancing, mortgages and loan defaults… pretty much all of the negatives of his job happened to have come in a flood to which he grudgingly worked through it all.

Relieved after exiting his work, he made his way to the bar just a block away and ordered a stiff martini to unwind. Not a frequent occurrence since, besides not being much of a drinker, he had a wife and a five year old daughter waiting for him when he arrived home. He, however, sipped his martini without even a wince as if he’s done it at the end of every day of his career.

Truly tempted for another stiff martini, Carl exercised his restraint, paid for his drink and exited the bar. On his walk to the parking garage, though, he encountered a pair of provocatively dressed women who he could tell were transvestites, albeit very beautiful and convincing ones at that. Normally, he would have given them a flirtatious wink and walk right past.

This time, given his slightly inebriated state, he stopped in front of the two noticing their lovely legs in pantyhose and striking high heels.

“Wow, I just love those heels!” he exclaimed, not to either one in particular, and succeeding with his “pick-up” line as the two transvestites looked back at Carl, utterly flattered.

You see, underneath the suit and tie of that nine-to-five day worker hid the other side of Carl, Carla by his (or shall we say, her) own naming, and her oh-so guilty pleasure of closet crossdressing. She loved it all: lingerie, pantyhose, dresses, wigs, makeup, you name it. She could wear them like a pro, or like the two beauties in front of her.

Acting out her own crossdressing fantasies, however, turned out to be quite the challenge. Carl’s wife, Amy, was a very conservative woman who was the type that would never deviate from the same missionary sex, over and over. That meant no toys, no doggie-style and definitely no crossdressing on the part of Carla.

Carla even went as far as to keep her entire wardrobe of women’s clothes, underwear, shoes and accessories in her secret rental storage space nearby where he worked downtown. There was no way in hell she would let Amy or his daughter catch her in the act at home. Unfortunately, this also meant her crossdressing was strictly kept to the confines of the storage where she would pose dolled up in front of the mirror installed on a wall and wank one out before she left.

Yet given Carl’s schedule at work and his duties at home, times where he could escape as Carla were few and far between. As well, his sexual frustration for his beloved fetishes often mounted day by day to the point where it completely obsessed his mind and he was likely to do something out of character, which really meant against the conservative nature of his wife’s wishes.

Take, for example, drinking a martini and chatting up a pair of transvestites…

Chelsea and Jenna introduced themselves to Carl while giggling in their flattery of his flirty comment.

“Oh, and I love men in suits,” Chelsea says while flirtatiously grabbing Carl’s tie and pulling it toward her.

Jenna followed her lead, gently touched Carl’s face and asked, “So like like us ‘girls,’ don’t you?”

“If you only knew,” Carl replied. “It’s my dream to look as gorgeous as the both of you.”

Chelsea and Jenna stared back at Carl, speechless but curious.

Carl, meanwhile, couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. Then again, he couldn’t believe the two were flirting back at him which excited him like nothing ever before. Against all his instincts as the straight and narrow husband and father, he decided to see where this could lead.

“Can I invite you ladies for a drink?” he asks them.

Jenna didn’t hesitate,”Sure, let’s go to The Vine just down the street.” Chelsea silently agrees. No need to convince Carl.

The three then proceeded to walk The Vine bar, an easygoing place for all walks of life with Carl ordering his second martini and Chelsea and Jenna ordering each a screwdriver. Then, as if he were seated on a therapist’s sofa, Carl proceeded to tell his whole life’s confessions on his crossdressing fetish. Everything from stealing his mother’s pantyhose as a kid to her fantasies of trists with other crossdressers bound and gagged and, yes, even her secret storage stash located nearby.

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I Paid $133 For a Pair of Pantyhose… But I Don’t Regret It

Fogal Rapallo pantyhose

When it comes to luxury pantyhose, Wolford Neon 40 sits there perched all nice and pretty right at the top. For around $45 (37 EUR) you can drape your legs in a gorgeous, high-shine glory sure to be the envy of all other crossdressers out there. Whenever yours truly spots what could be pantyhose ecstasy (not named Wolford), however, then I just have to have it, no matter what the cost is. In this case, it did test the ability to empty my wallet, er I mean purse.

So I bought a pair of Fogal Rapallo for (gulp) the rough equivalent of $133 (112 EUR). What the fuck!? I thought since it was around Christmas time and I so desperately needed to get a present for myself. Just yesterday I received them and opened that package like it was Christmas. Thick, black and super silky, I slipped them over my stems eager to see if these would replace my beloved Wolford as queen of the pantyhose throne.

The verdict: the Rapallo are incredibly gorgeous and I have to say share the spot on top with Wolford.

For those of you unfamiliar with this particular pantyhose, you may be acquainted with another one of it’s rivals: Platino Luxe Fata or Cecilia de Rafael Uppsala. Basically, they are all tights of very high denier (100+) meaning very opaque with an illustrious shine and those trademark seams running up the back of the leg. They probably don’t get everyone’s panties wet but they happen to be a guilty pleasure of mine since I now own a pair of all three.

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Sexy in Leather, Not Plastic

In pantyhose and Dune clogs

I have a confession to make… I never really liked heels or women’s shoes for that matter. That is, up until now. Of course, I’ve had a few pairs for a while but they never really did anything for me unless you count the falls and near ankle breaks while prancing around in them. The deal breaker, though, was that they never turned me on wearing them.

Then again, I always thought that the sexiest shoes were the ones that either were clear, five inch heels, or were like a spandex boot going up your thigh. You know, the kind you see on strippers in strip clubs or even on porn-ish models in those jpegs you’re jerking off to online.

In other words, those are cheap pieces of plastic that make you more or less feel the same way. OK, so I like feeling cheap. Just not in what I’m wearing on my pantyhose covered feet.

So recently, I splurged on some high-heeled Dune clogs as you see above. Somehow, they really caught my eye reminding me of Oktoberfest and gorgeous women in their lederhosen and wooden shoes. Don’t ask for an explanation of this, but I just had to have them. Now I’m wearing them as I type with the utmost joy hampered by one near ankle break as I tried to stand up moments ago.

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Now My New Favorite Thing, Crotchless Undies

Obsession Crotchless Teddy

In my usual stroll through online lingerie stores, I almost never see anything that really gets my my eye these days. More often than not, it’s the same strap teddy or babydoll with “peekaboo” holes for nipples to stick out. Yet, being so picky, I’m always on the lookout for that sexy something that won’t end up a wadded wrinkled ball sitting in a bag ten years later.

Indeed I found it, something I always overlooked and definitely unappreciated. So now I present… crotchless lingerie.

I purchased an Obsession Diamond Teddy in black on eBay and, true to its name, I’ve been obsessed with it ever since it landed in my horny little hands. Immediately, I slipped on some Oroblu Magie pantyhose then into this beauty which, not only fit perfectly, but looks incredible on me if I say so myself.

I love the ingenious way the teddy uses adjustable elastic leg loops to permit a wide open crotch area. I mean we’re talking front all the way up the ass crack. As my cock starts to bulge through the pantyhose (instead of hanging in open air), I wouldn’t find this typically feminine or appealing. Yet there is a cute little jeweled embellishment that hangs down gently over the bulge giving an appeal to the “present” underneath. I kind of like it actually and think I’ll call it the femme package.

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Allow Me to Pull Down Your Pantyhose and…

Sheery in a camisole and pantyhose

Usually when I post here, I’m very much “in the mood.” That is, not just dressing the part but living up to it so to speak. It is usually morning time, I’ve had my cup of coffee and am in my cute satin robe that just barely covers my ass. Of course, I have on silky pantyhose, high heels and, to feel extra sassy, throw on some lipstick (now a regular thing).

While it is a major turn-on to see my silken self shine, I’ve embraced my feminine role enough now to go beyond the usual crossdresser frolicking and into a realm which hasn’t been penetrated to the full extent yet (excuse the pun).

Namely, I can’t stop thinking about that feminized penis that wants to violate me and make me believe I’m a true woman.

Maybe five or six years ago, the thought sex with another crossdresser would have never even crossed my mind. I was a happy-go-lucky crossdresser content with throwing on a pair of nice pantyhose with a cheap bra and panties, wank it then call it a day. You know, the typical practice during the some twenty years prior.  Then one day something dawned on me, or you can say the little girl in me was starting to bloom.

It feels quite sexy to look like a woman in her skimpies and admire it in a mirror but what would it be like to feel and take pleasure like one? Rolling around in nylon and lace isn’t quite the same so there I was one day, laying in bed (lingerie, hose and all) getting into various positions and pretending I was on the receiving end of a good pelvic clapping. The fact that it made me question my, at that time, heterosexual self (I’m not gay, am I?) actually made it even more alluring.

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Top Ten Things Crossdressers Need to Stop Doing, Now

Pantyhose over face

Image: Wormed of Horrors

Sure, we as crossdressers like to have our fun and our whole motto could arguably be summed up as “we do whatever the fuck we want, dressed as women.” While we surely do not live by a behavior code (or any kind of code, really), there are some things, however, we might want to pay some mind to. As in please, for the sake of our beloved crossdressing community, cut this shit out.

So without further ado, I present ten things crossdressers need to stop doing right this second.

10. Using the terms “passable,” “lesbian,” “slut” or “whore” to describe ourselves unless, of course, a vagina was recently installed.

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Committing a Pantyhose Fetish Cardinal Sin, Thanks to Capezio

Sheery in Capezio Stirrup Tights

Out of the thousands and thousands of times of slipping into pantyhose, I’m talking since the pre-pubescent pantyhose fetish years, there is one thing I have never gotten tired of. Of course, there is the usual nylon hugging my bulging wannabe female parts giving me the jollies but I also can’t get enough of looking down and wiggling my toes pretending they are struggling in in their silken trap.

Despite the love of encased toes, I’ve never been very foot fetishy which is why I primarily like my pantyhose footed. That and because I’m so un-ladylike when it comes to caring for my feet. Toe cheese, nails that can rival an eagle’s talons and whatever that black shit is that had been stuck for a week could all use a bit of attention (and an army of pedicurists).

Well, obviously that had to change so, first, there was the self-pedicure that took at least a couple of hours. Next, trimming those little hairs on my big toe (weird) and, last but not least, a little fuscia polish to beauty them up. Was that so hard? I said to myself trying to convince myself I’m a REAL girl.

Then giddy with my pretty feet, it was time to rip into that new package of Capezio Ultra Shimmery stirrup tights in color Toast. I never thought I’d see the day where I’m wearing pantyhose (tights in this case) with my painted toes exposed and feeling even more feminine sexy than ever.

At this moment, I never wanted go back to footed pantyhose… and had to seriously masturbate looking at my new beautiful toes, free to breathe in the daylight.

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How to Know if Your Ready For The Big Time

Squirt From The Hose

Image: terwilliger911 (Flickr)

Some of you out there may have, at one time or another (or always), dreamed about meeting that perfect girl crossdresser. You know, she show up beautifully made up, slinky dress, expensive pantyhose and heels and smells like a flower blooming after a rainy day in Italy. Then maybe after a little wining and dining, she takes you into your bedroom and proceeds to spank and pound your ass flat and tender.

Mind that this is only after you first get a taste slurping her girl cock until she tells you when. If you’re lucky enough, maybe leaving a generous tip in your mouth and down your throat.

If you unfortunately find this absolutely disgusting or appalling, cover your eyes, find your mommy and I’ll give you the opportunity to leave now.

Great, still here?

Have you ever had an attraction to other crossdressers whether it be in admiration, willing to go the distance with a passionate foray or been there, done that? Well, for those “bi-curious” waiting for the experience no different than a teeny-bopper anxiously anticipating getting her cherry popped, I believe I came upon (quite literally) a foolproof way to determine if you’re ready or not.

Ready?

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Seven Things I Hate as a Crossdresser

Conchita Wurst

Image: VIPevents

Unfortunately, I’m in one of those negative moods today. Enough so to make me hate everything… well almost. Slipping into some Wolford tights, however, just isn’t the same, seemingly lacking in joy of digging into my femme side to ease the bad vibes. I don’t think new heels could even cure my case of get the hell away from me today.

So, in honor of negative bullshit, I feel it is my duty to call out on the seven things I really hate as a crossdresser, not in any particular order. They all pretty much suck, er, I mean can go suck.

1. Hair, That Which is Not on Thy Head

Have you ever shaved all of your body hair? It is a fucking tedious process that takes a minimum of two hours. And don’t get me started if the Remington isn’t fully charged. Afterwards, though, is a bliss of silky smooth delight, sliding around on your sheets and your pantyhose not having to hold back the wild forage overgrowing your crotch.

Then a week later, back to hairy and hours trimming. Maybe this time, I’ll remember to charge the damn shaver.

We’re not even talking about the beard either. Not even Estee Lauder can hide that 5 o’ clock shadow when you doll yourself up. Oddly enough, some other Eurovision winning singers can pull it off with class. Just don’t let this become a trend though.

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If Possible, Would You Take Back Those Little Fetishes You Started?

Crossdresser Sheery

Admit it. There have been days where you have looked back to see where your silky little fetishes began. “Stealing” your mother’s panties and/or pantyhose (shame on you) and getting high off of the shame that comes with inappropriately wearing garments of the opposite sex.

Yet, didn’t it all start innocently enough just happening to try on that bra or slip into those pantyhose just to see what it was like? Or even as a joke? Who are we kidding, you don’t just start a fetish. They develop as we experiment as little youngsters and notice our little cocks get off when we keep doing them. Oooh, dressing in my mom’s lingerie turns me on and I don’t know why the fuck that is, but I like it!

Surely, back then, you never even heard of the word fetish or knew that this would turn into a lifelong compulsion. For me, personally during my teenage years, I thought I could “turn off” my crossdressing since I could see it being an inconvenience when dating girls as I went off to college. I did, in fact, turn it off for about six weeks only to return to crossdressing with an extreme vigor. This happen to coincide with receiving a Victoria’s Secret catalog and my first credit card then buying exactly what Stephanie Seymour was modeling on page 20.

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Posted in Psychology
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