An Introduction to Crossdressing
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My Qualifications To Write About Crossdressing free porn video
My Qualifications to Write About Crossdressing
By Ricky
How ironic! While looking for something in my files the
other day I found I have been writing about crossdressing
more than 10 years now. The problem is, I now realize I am
completely unqualified to be a crossdresser, let alone a
writer on the subject. Think about it, just what are the
qualifications for a crossdresser? Surely you've read a
multitude of "true life stories" in the crossdressing
magazines. Perhaps if we were to distill all these stories
we can come up with a set of qualifications for a true
crossdresser. This would produce a sort of a smorgasbord of
features, where you can pick one from column A and one from
column B until you have a complete dinner, but every true
life article has most of the following items in it.
I knew I was different at 6 months of age but was
overwhelmed with guilt and agony because I was the only one
so I joined the army to prove I wasn't gay and of course
sex had nothing to do with it then I found my sisters and
we all went out shopping at the mall but when I went home
my wife found me in her dress so there was a nasty divorce
so I started boozing but now I'm recovering and accept my
femininity and life is going to be just dandy.
I think that covers everything, except maybe gushing about
nail polish colors, eye shadow and frilly skirts. So if
these are the essential qualifications to be a crossdresser
then I'm in deep trouble. Let's look at them one by one.
* I knew I was different / guilt and agony - Nah, I have
always had an ego that has never let me down. I knew if I
did it there had to be somebody else out there that wanted
to do it too, even if I didn't know them. So why feel
guilty? It has to be normal to someone.
* I joined the army to prove I'm not gay - Hell, I was
number 347 in the draft. Remember I grew up while we were
playing policeman in Viet Nam. I quit school and got a job
within days of the lottery. I'm not gay either, but feel no
need to prove it to anyone.
* Sex had nothing to do with it - Give me a break, I
started dressing to feed my adolescent libido and sex had
everything to do with it.
* We all went out shopping at the mall - I hate malls.
Every blasted one of them is the same, with the same dumb
stores selling the same merchandise you can get anywhere
else at much lower prices. Tell me, would you really to be
associated with someone who would drop $1.25 for one of
those soft pretzels? With mustard? Sometimes I think that
crossdressing couldn't exist without malls. I really can't
recall a story where a crossdresser got prettied up and
went anywhere else. Concerts - you have to sit too close to
some stranger. Public parks, better but there's a lot of
open territory to cross and too many sharp eyed kids. The
mall is just great for impersonal semi-interaction, but
I'll buy my dresses elsewhere, thank you.
* My wife found me and there was a nasty divorce - Sorry,
her dresses wouldn't fit me and I told her when the time
came. She just thought I was a bit weirder than before and
made me a couple of dresses that did fit. Even though we
are getting a divorce it's amicable and the crossdressing
has no part in it.
* I started drinking, etc. - I'm a teetotaler and always
have been. As far as I can tell I never grew up and that
stuff is for adults. I prefer reality straight and not
filtered through a chemical haze.
* I accept my femininity and life is going to be just dandy
- Strangely enough I really don't feel feminine. Those
feelings in me that might be called feminine are just part
of me. There is no woman within as far as I can tell, but
Lord knows there's enough of me to have a few of them in
there with pounds to spare. I simply like to wear the
clothes.
So I guess that's it, I have to disqualify myself as a
crossdresser. What sort of ceremony shall we use? Perhaps
the Crossdresser General will approach me as I stand before
the ranks of my former sisters and, with drums solemnly
beating in the background, rip off my shoulder pads, strip
the pink bow from my bra and the lace from my panties then
send me away in disgrace to wear black oxfords for the rest
of my life. We could hold a formal tearing down of my
clothes closet, where it and its contents are burned and
the ashes scattered to the four winds. I don't know,
perhaps if I repent and go to the mall to revel in my guilt
I can be saved, but I doubt it.
Josephina
- 15.10.2022
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Wet Dreams to Crossdressing
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