One of the reasons I enjoy writing this blog is that it serves as a diary of sorts. It is usually while slipping into my lady things and feeling the feminine vibes and then getting my inspiration into words. I also have a separate little black journal I write to although it is not quite as extensive in my (perverse) thoughts as it is here. The journal is also a lot harder to hide from people in case I’m dumb enough to leave it on the coffee table, which tends to happen on occasion.
(Note that you may have noticed a lapse in time last year. Just assume I was macho me the whole time, OK?)
Having this blog means I even like to go back and read my own writing to see what I was thinking about at some random point in time in the past, which tends to amuse me today. I ran across one entry in particular about my evolving bi-curious nature, though, which I felt the need to revisit since my sexuality has taken quite the detour from nearly ten years ago.
Back then I was coming to terms that I was wanting more than just “vanilla” hetero relationships and felt an urge to explore my sexuality. from the perspective of a woman, or kind of like one at least. I didn’t want to just dress up. I wanted to be the woman that gives the blowjob or takes a good pounding (albeit from the rear). It felt sexy and exciting to fantasize about it, plus it went everything against my rather conservative upbringing which just made it all the more exciting.
I asked, I received.
Sharon was excitedly busy giving me the blowjob of her life when I suddenly had a moment of realization. There I was lying on the bed in my bustier and pantyhose and with a hole in the back that I could still feel wet from the lube Sharon had used to wet her cock that pounded me a good thousand times or so. The sexy crossdresser making me her toy and actually getting my silkies dirty had always been a fantasy of mine.
Yet this had turned into everything I imagined it would which struck me as odd. Does anything, especially a fantasy, ever end up being like you dreamed it would? “Maybe it would come close,” I thought as I watched Sharon’s head bob up and down and drowning in her sucking prowess. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the moment and the absolute “naughtiness” of our sexual encounter. I was at the peak of feeling feminine and sexy and never wanted that to end.
Sharon stopped her her vigorous blowjob all a sudden and climbed over me and into the cowgirl position with her ass just above my still-hard cock. She pulled down her black Oroblu pantyhose just enough so her bare ass was exposed then leaned over and gave me a soft kiss along with her sultry smile. As she reached for the lube nearby, I caressed the smooth, shiny nylon covering her legs and indulged in the feeling as they even rubbed against my own pantyhosed legs with every movement she made.
Sharon giggled for a second and made a humored attempt at an access hole through my pantyhose by poking her rock-hard cock into it several times while I’m on my back with my legs pulled as far as they go. As I anticipated her “entrance,” feeling her cock in and out and just barely teasing my ass was, in fact, a turn on. The tease made me so wild with anticipation, I start to tremble from the excitement.
Yet, realizing that the nylon and spandex was tough to break, Sharon ripped a small hole with her fingernails just below the crotch area and gently widened it exposing my asshole-turned-vagina. I even noted to myself, it would have been wet as possible if it weren’t for those damn gender differences. Oh well.
I grabbed a condom and lube, conveniently laid ready in place on the bed, and unrolled the condom onto her cock in a smooth, single stroke. Next, I squirted a little lube into my hand and softly stroked it over the condom-covered-cock while she let out a slow “Ooooh.”
Sharon was very gentle at first, easing her slicked love rod through my sphincter which penetrated with a little resistance but gave me a shock of excitement throughout my body. I remembered thinking “Oh my god, there is a dick inside me!” Even a wave of panic came across me.
It’s not news that I’m willing to stray from my traditional vanilla hetero side and indulge in an escapade with another sexy crossdresser. It was my first time and it was a little awkward, sure, but not any different from that first time with a GG girlfriend many years back. The seed had been planted, though, and the next time would be a far better experience for certain, much like where the vanilla hetero experience took me.
Bisexuality is still something relatively new I’ve dabbled into after straying in and out of the bicurious phase more recently. To be quite honest, it excites me now more than ever before and will go out of my way to explore it when I have the chance. Then, of course, I have to spill it all here, not to brag about the conquest, but rather share the experience. So keep in mind the name here is changed to preserve the identity of that dear crosslover.
I have to admit that crossing that line I’ve always been taught was taboo or “wrong” isn’t easy. Also the experience doesn’t always go as planned (read the link above) but it can turn out an exciting fling which leaves you wanting more. So, whether or not you’re a relative newcomer, this could either make the bicurious in you think about that next step or possibly relive your tales of chicks with dicks.
So here goes my adventure (again)…
It’s not news that I have constant fantasies of other crossdressers (or anyone of the “T” variety really) who like to doll themselves up in silky pantyhose and later make a meal out of me. I can’t think of a way to feel more womanly that to be violated on both ends then swallowing that hot creamed oyster for dessert. Being a woman is the name of the crossdresser game when all is said and done, right?
Yet I never cease to wonder after such a passionate sexual encounter, what kind of emotional attachment would result. Mutual kissing, sucking, sex or even just rubbing my pantyhosed toes down a CD lover’s smooth nyloned legs results in an intimacy that I would believe difficult to leave behind after a single fling. Add to that the fact that we as humans are drawn to pleasure and we’ll seek it where we know we can get it. If a fling turned out that lusty sex of my dreams, I sure as hell would want more.
Ok, so maybe in the past I haven’t had quite the sexy fantasy-in-lace experience I had hoped for. It was more of a man-in-tights going at it with the experienced transvestite and, no, I wasn’t the transvestite. I have to chalk that up to lack of experience, much like the first time having sex with that genetic girl. I guess you can say that the cock/rear access complicated things a bit since I had been used to a vagina in all the years prior.
Then there is that fucking label. Am I bisexual now? Oh shit, I can’t say I’m hetero any longer. What’s a queer little crossdresser to do?
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 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.
I was on Twitter the other day (a more frequent occurence now) and had a look at a long lost tweet I had saved a while back…
I retweeted and saved it for a reason. I pondered in those very words a bit and I couldn’t help but to think that this was directed right at me. When you think about it, though, isn’t it directed at likely the majority of hot blooded crossdressers, transvestites and other “T’s” out there?
Yes, those of you who can’t pry themselves from the mirror dreaming that you’re either some kind of pantyhose model goddess or high-priced glamour hooker whose phone won’t stop ringing (my hand raised too). I’m fairly confident there is a huge narcissistic component to our feminine alter-egos that probably just comes with the territory.