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Pantyhose, The Root of All Evil

I can say without a doubt that my crossdressing has taken leaps and bounds since my first days experimenting in my sister’s tights as a sort of pre-pubescent indulgence in erotica or, as we all may know, the pantyhose fetish in it’s infancy.

Shaved legs, hell yeah. Whole body? Yep, that too.

Makeup… just now learning how to do up properly.

Wardrobe? Check, including the mandatory minis and fuck-me dress.

Heel collection: I realize how addicting that can get… and how much I drool over Louboutins.

Full public view, well, maybe that’s in the near future.

Despite my love of trying to bring out the inner woman in me, not to mention the sexual thrill it gives, I always seem to end up obsessing over my first real (non-human) true love: pantyhose. They are always my first item of attention when dressing and, even if being the only thing I have on, makes me feel more feminine than even the perfect makeup session (or those Louboutins). Well, OK, if I had those Louboutins over my pantyhosed feet, I think I would shoot my load on the ceiling.

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Posted in CD Diary

Some OMG Pantyhose About to Wrap Our Legs in Heaven

Stop paying attention for a second and, all of a sudden, you miss what gorgeous new products that will happily feed our never-ending pantyhose fetish. I’m usually always on the lookout for something new and sexy to drape my legs in. However, the glossy look has given way to matte opaque tights and leggings which women go crazy over these days. Not exactly great news if you’re the high-shine loving fetishist like I am.

Yet there are some new developments that have just caught my eye that I just can’t wait to get my legs in…

Cecilia de Rafael Libero Seamless Pantyhose

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw these. Finally, the reincarnation of the Wolford Fatal Neon tights, albeit a very sheer 15 denier as opposed to the 40 denier of the Fatal Neon. Of course there was a previous attempt at a revival with the Krystelle 30 seamless which didn’t quite live up to expectations. The CdR, however, looks promising and just look at that shine!

Not too long ago, I may have balked at the sheerness but, now that I shave my legs regularly, the Libero will be a welcome addition to the collection. Likewise, if you’re still sporting the gorilla legs, the Libero should unquestionably be given a pass. That or keep the legs out of public view (please).

Note that these are so new that they haven’t been manufactured yet. They are due out sometime in December so have your legs nicely shaved and ready (please).

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Posted in CD News

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

Part V: Acquired Tastes

Jim and Dave were each admiring to themselves the beauty that was before them. Yet they had no idea that underneath that well dolled-up woman named Carla, standing in front of them, was a crossdresser forced by his own wife to act out his fetish in pantyhose, lingerie and a sexy dress and heels. And now in front of other people or, better yet, men who Carla could tell were ogling her with their eyes.

Yet, despite the terrorizing fear she had of being outed, not only by Amy, she was almost equally excited bathed in the silky tightness of her lingerie, hearing her pantyhose rustle and knowing full well that she achieved the status of a passable woman.

After handing Carla, Jim and Dave their screwdrivers, Amy returned to the kitchen and prepared the dinner. Meanwhile, the other three began sipping their screwdrivers and their chit-chat. Carla continued in her feminine voice as before since it had done her well up to this point.

“So, what do you do Carla?” Dave asked.

“I’m a stylist,” she replied, obviously a lie.

The conversation continued with the usual boring get-to-know dribble when Amy came out from the kitchen and pulled Carla back into it, tugging on her dress.

“You’re going to do exactly as I tell you from now on,” Amy whispered angrily to Carla. “If not, I tell everyone at your job, your family, EVERYONE about your little girly crossdressing side,” she continued, pushing Carla back toward the dining area.

“Ok,” was all that Carla could mutter.

“Oh, and I won’t skip the the part about those tranny sluts Chelsea and Jenna,” Amy added as Carla was leaving the kitchen.

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

Part IV: Wish Fulfillment

Carl returned home from work, and a quick drink with his crossdressing “mistresses” as well, to find a note left by Amy saying she was leaving their daughter, Amanda, with their babysitter. “Hmm, this is odd” he thought, “Is she planning something for us tonight?”

In the meantime, he just couldn’t stop thinking about Chelsea and Jenna and their sexy three-way romp the previous night. The thought turned him on so much, in fact, he wondered if he could slip into his favorite lace teddy and Wolford pantyhose hidden away in the trunk of his car and wank one out before Amy returned. Without giving a second thought, he ran back to the garage, retrieved his ladies wear and ran into the bathroom, slipping on the teddy and pantyhose, and reliving every memory of that night with her greased up hand.

Yet before she was just about to erupt into orgasm, she heard the front door open and close. Quickly, she slipped out of her lingerie and pantyhose, hiding them under a towel, turned on the shower and got in. Carl didn’t bother to blow his juicy wad, opting instead to finishing his usual post-work shower and greet Amy afterwards.

Little did he know, however, what Amy was up to already being in the know about his affair. Initially, she was extremely shocked at the fact that it was with, what she considered, sex with two gay, crossdressing men. Yet, despite several moments of rage, she had quickly come to terms with Carla’s secret lingerie and pantyhose fetish and the deep desires that came with it.

And Carla was about to be on the receiving end of those terms.

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

Part III: Reality

The excitement of Carla’s trist with Chelsea and Jenna began to fade as Carla realized it was already late into the evening and she needed to get home. Carla slipped out of her lingerie and crotch ripped pantyhose and changed back into his suit and tie. He then went into the bathroom, grabbed a washrag and scrubbed every last bit of makeup off of his face thinking of excuses he could tell his wife Amy for his tardiness without even a phone call.

“Let’s do this again,” a cleaned-up Carl said to the two satisfied crossdressers and still high from their foray with Carla.

“Anytime,” Jenna responded as she and Chelsea walked him out the door along with giving a peck on the cheek, which Carl quickly wiped away.

Carl walked back to the garage just a few blocks away, got into his car and into a panic. “Let’s see, we had a crisis at the bank and an emergency meeting that lasted hours,” he thought to himself as the excuse he was going to tell his wife. “Yep, I’ll stick with that.”

He arrived home to a visibly angry Amy as he walked through the door.

“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick!” Amy said. “You don’t even answer your phone?”

Carl, realizing he left his cell phone at the office, was at a loss. “I’m so sorry dear.”

He proceed to tell his lie about how he had spent the last few hours, obviously omitting the details about the romp in his lingerie and pantyhose with two crossdresser he had just met at that time. Amy listened, appearing to believe every word, but really knew Carl well enough to tell the signs of when he lied.

“Well, OK, next time call though please,” Amy responded with a noticeable change in tone from anger to sympathy. Carl believed his story had worked and was off the hook but, little did he know, Amy was on to his scent. Quite literally, too, as she could smell traces of perfume on him, yet she didn’t say a word. Instead, she would be doing a little detective work on her own.

The very next day, Carl left for work, business as usual. Amy, however, had her own plan to leave their daughter, Sara, with their neighbor for a couple hours, then see what Carl was really up to after work. As the hour where Carl left approached, Amy positioned herself, parked in her car, and with a clear view of the entrance of his bank.

Like clockwork, Carl exited and made his was up the block towards the garage. Amy got out of the car and followed closely on foot but out of his view. By coincidence, and perhaps bad luck, Jenna and Chelsea just happened to be along the way in Carl’s walk to the garage.

“Hello darling,” Jenna said to Carl, who gives each a warm kiss on the cheek. The sight of the two in their skin-tight dresses, sexy shiny pantyhose and stilettos gave him chills of excitement just like the previous day.

“Shall we have a quick drink?” Carl asked the two pointing to the patio bar just in front of them. “Oh, I mean screwdriver,” he added flirtatiously. Chelsea and Jenna took him up on the offer. Amy, heart dropped to the floor, stood in a hidden spot across the street and looked on.

As the three seated themselves and ordered a round of screwdrivers, Carl couldn’t help but to slide his hands, caressing the pantyhose on the legs of Chelsea and Jenna who were to either side of him. Jenna instinctively reached down his pants and discovered he had on a pair of Wolford Neon pantyhose as she playfully pulled the waistband up and out of his pants.

“You naught girl you,” Jenna said the Carl, still with a grip on the waistband.

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

Part II: Happier Hour

“Don’t you look delicious,” Chelsea whispered to Carla, who just exited the bathroom.

“Oh really?” responded Carla, bashfully.

Jenna walked over from the kitchen with a stiffly made screwdriver in each hand and handed one to the both. She then took a quick glance at the sexy bra, panty and pantyhose ladened Carla and gave her a flirty nod of approval before returning to the kitchen for her own drink.

Meanwhile, Chelsea sat herself down comfortably on the sofa and motioned for Carla to join her, who did not hesitate to take a seat right next to her. Chelsea then began to caress the Wolford pantyhose covering Carla’s thigh.

“So you obviously like dressing up. What else do you like?” Chelsea asked with a grin then taking a large gulp of her screwdriver.

Jenna, meanwhile, sat herself on the other side of Carla and ran her hand through her wig, just to let her know she was there and also awaiting the response to Chelsea’s question.

“Well, for starters…,” Carla said beginning her lifelong story of the extreme lingerie and pantyhose fetishes and all the fantasies she had in them. She rambled on and on, nearly killing the sensual mood between the three. Luckily, the screwdrivers were keeping Chelsea and Jenna afloat, but just barely. That was until Carla got to the part about her fantasy being pantyhose bound and raped.

Chelsea’s and Jenna’s faces lit up.

“Well, we happen to like that too dear,” said Jenna, who got up clutching Carla’s hand and lightly pulling her towards her and Chelsea’s bedroom. Chelsea got up and followed them into the bedroom, drink in hand.

“Lie down on the bed,” said Jenna, to which Carla happily obliged.

Jenna then went to a drawer pulling out several pairs of worn pantyhose. Chelsea put her drink down, kicked off her stiletto heels then slipped out of her black minidress revealing a stylish black camisole, thong panties and, of course, her own natural shade of Wolford pantyhose underneath. She then grabbed a pair of the worn hose from Jenna and began tying up Carla’s legs wrapping them tight.

Chelsea took another pair of the hose and tied up Carla’s wrists behind her, then stuffed the last pair entirely into her mouth.

“Oh look, isn’t she so cute,” Jenna said to Chelsea with a wink. Carla was enjoying every moment letting out a girly whimper to communicate her joyously bound predicament. Jenna then slipped out of her own heels and dress revealing a more slutty blue shelf bra, exposing her “breasts,” a matching thong and the seemingly required pantyhose, her brand being Pierre Mantoux.

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

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 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

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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Committing a Pantyhose Fetish Cardinal Sin, Thanks to Capezio

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

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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