This story recounts my first experience dressing entirely in female
attire in the presence of others and the events that such a totally
overwhelming occurrence led to, or does it? While I have taken some
license for the sake of readability and entertainment, it is
essentially an account as it happened, or maybe it isn't! The simple
fact is that the basis of this story is absolutely true as are some,
maybe many parts of it, but certainly not all of it. I had and still
have a vivid imagination, a penchant for story telling, and a wonderful
set of personal fantasies. Also, the reader should be aware that these
events are set during the early 1960's so many things that are a part
of every day life today just didn't exist at the time. Also, the
available and popular attire may differ considerably from the many more
recently set stories that may be found here. There were no such things
as pantyhose, miniskirts, thongs, or even bikinis, not that I care much
for any of those things save the first, and "properly dressed" females
of the day tended to wear a plethora of undergarments.
I feel it appropriate to also preface this story by offering that the
author truly, truly adores female clothing, loves to wear it, and is
totally envious of women because men are typically not allowed to enjoy
the many sensations that wearing female attire provides. Over the
years, even though, other than as described herein, totally in the
closet, I have enjoyed many episodes of silky sheerness, wonderful
scents, and clinging garments, and regret, that as I have aged, I can
no longer make myself appear as feminine as I once could. I still enjoy
all of the feelings described in this story in the privacy of my home
using the vast collection of female attire, including many of the
vintage garments mentioned herein, that I thank the Internet for making
so readily available. Now, however, when I get dressed, which is fairly
frequently since I live alone, I simply avoid mirrors and picture
images like those presented in this story in my mind. As for the parts
of the ensuing tale that are true and those that aren't, I think I'll
leave that decision up to each individual reader. That being said, here
goes:
Joyce
By May B. Itstru
Part One
In a decent sized, although not then major, Midwestern city, it was the
early part of summer vacation from school, and I was in just the second
of my teenage years. A stage of my life that occurred in an era when
mobility was limited so most leisure activities were centered on
friends and the neighborhood. A bunch of us tended to hang out at my
friend Linda's house a little more than a block from my own, and that's
where we were when it all began.
A group of us were planning on going somewhere, exactly where is not
germane to this story, that required better than the type of attire
that would suffice for our typical "just hanging out". Three males of
the regular group were sitting the living room of Linda's house with
her mother, who was like sort of a Mom to all of us, waiting on Linda
to get ready, and it seemed to be taking rather a while.
When Linda finally entered the room, she was wearing a simple blouse
and pleated skirt, which were quite ordinary for the time. In my usual
style, I said something like: "How come it always takes girls so long
to get ready?"
To which she replied "It would take you just as long if you had to fix
your hair, put on make-up, and get into a girdle and stockings (there
were no panty hose yet), and camisole (I didn't even know what one of
those was) and slip, and all this stuff I have to wear."
And I responded "No way it would ever take me that long! I could get
dressed like that in half the time!"
"No, you couldn't!" she retorted.
"Bet I could" said I.
"You want to try it sometime and see?" she asked.
Flippantly, I said, "Sure, I'll show you how it's done."
With that, the subject, at least I thought, was dropped, and the group
was off to its destination. I quickly forgot about the whole exchange.
A couple of weeks later, my parents decided to go on a vacation of a
sort to visit my older brother in the military, and said that I didn't
have to go with them if I didn't want to. Someone was needed to be home
to tend to the dog and the yard and the like. I couldn't believe that
they were going to leave me home alone for two weeks. Freedom in the
summer of only my fourteenth year!
As was quite usual, I went to Linda's house to hang out. She, her
mother, and I were sitting on the front porch chatting when I mentioned
my good fortune.
Quite to my utter surprise, Linda said, "Good! That will give us a
chance to see if you can make good on that bet!"
"Bet? What bet?" I asked.
"You know, when you could get dressed and ready to go out in half the
time that it took me." she said.
"That wasn't a real bet." I defended.
"Oh, yes it was." responded Linda. "Wasn't it, Mom?"
Her Mom smiled rather coyly and put on her best "I'm not a part of
this" look.
Linda continued, "I'll tell you what, I won't hold you to your 'half
the time' statement, but whoever can get dressed in the same outfit and
be ready to go out the door the quickest, the other one has to buy them
dinner and take them downtown for a movie. Is it a deal or you going to
chicken out?"
Not thinking things completely through and kind of having the gantlet
thrown down, I agreed that it was, indeed a deal.
"Good!" she added, "we'll get started Saturday morning."
"Started? What do you mean 'started'?" I queried.
She explained that there would be much for me to learn beforehand to
make the actual competition somewhat "fair".
"I know how to get dressed." I said, "What else could I possibly need
to know?"
"Oh, you'll see come next Saturday morning." is all she said.
What Linda didn't know, nor, to my knowledge, did anyone but me, is
that I had long been slipping into my older sister's clothes whenever
the opportunity presented itself. On the unusual occasion, before she
moved to her own apartment, when I was home alone, I would slip into
her room and grab a pair of panties, maybe a garter and stockings, a
half-slip, and once or twice her swim suit, take them into the bathroom
behind locked door, put whatever I had absconded with on, and manually
gratify myself.
I never figured out why I ever found myself even tempted to do so, but
I just remember the first time when I felt that I just had to try on
women's undergarments. From that event on, I realized that females had
something going for them that guy's didn't: gloriously soft, smooth,
silky, and sometimes lacy things to wear next to their skin. From the
first pair of my sister's panties that I slipped on, I was hooked on
the soft, smooth, cool feeling of shimmering nylon next to my skin. As
I "graduated" to her garter belts, stockings, and half-slips, (but,
oddly, I never tried a brassiere simply because while they were
strictly for females, most of the bras of the day were just a bunch of
stitched cotton and elastic and not very sexy or enticing at all), it
just meant more layers of silky luxury or me. It all definitely had
something to do with sexuality because I would don the wonderful
garments, manually gratify myself, quickly take them off and return
them to whence they came, and feel guilty and a bit afraid being
getting found out.
As my enjoyment in wearing silky under things grew, so did my awareness
of what the girls I encountered at school, in the neighborhood, or just
about anywhere were wearing. I observed, and envied, what they wore.
Sitting in class at school observing is what made me enamored of being
able to see the indentations of bra straps or the shadow of a camisole
or top part of a slip through a girl's blouse. I also noticed and
greatly enjoyed how their clothes curved so gracefully around their
breasts. I noticed the way their stockings made their legs look. I
noticed how their clothes fit. Slim, straight skirts that came to just
below the knee and, while not often what one could call tight, snug
enough to see the marvels of the female figure: narrow waist, round
butt, etc.
That's also when I noticed the phenomenon of the creases across the
front of their straight skirts that sitting and the basic nature of the
garment created. Those creases seemed to scream out that the person was
female and there was nothing lumpy on that part of their body. On days
when girls found it necessary to be "dressed up" for some reason or
another, I would notice the full skirts puffing out above their shapely
legs clad in sheer nylon and ending in a shape and walk enhancing high-
heeled shoes. I began noticing that girls smelled different, better.
When close enough, I could not only smell their perfume or cologne, but
I began to notice that their make-up and lipstick had a delectable
aroma of their own. I was totally hooked on the female form and the
clothes and other things that they were so fortunate to be able to out
on it. Sadly, just when I felt that I was ready to give dressing in
full female attire, my sister moved out and into her own apartment and
took my entire stock of potential garments with her. Damn!
So by the point in time that Linda "offered" me a chance to wear
feminine attire once again, my "dressing" had been only in my mind for
quite a while.
I was truly ready for as many soft, silky, smooth, lacy nylon garments
on my body as I could get on at one time even if I had to let out my
secret to someone else. Little did I know that Linda had a secret of
her own, and it would involve me.
Part Two
Saturday morning came, and I walked the block and a half to Linda's
house to do as I had agreed with considerable trepidation and
anticipation at the same time. Linda ushered me in the door where her
Mom was waiting, too.
"Are you ready for this?" they asked.
I did my best hemming and hawing but to little avail. It seemed that I
going to have to make good on my somewhat rash statement, whether I
liked the idea or not, and, believe me, I liked it!
I was told that the process would be accomplished exactly the same way
that Linda would have done it, but I would need to learn all of the
"ins and outs" of it first such as what items of clothing to wear with
what others, how to put each on properly, what make-up to use and where
and how to apply it, how to fix hair, etc.
"Wait a minute!" I shouted "Hey, I didn't sign up for any make-up or
hair fixing or anything like that!"
"Well, if you plan on 'getting ready to go out' like we be, you have
able to put on all the clothes and make-up, and fix your hair
properly." responded Linda.
"Hair, that will only take a bit less than a second." I said pointing
to my burred hair.
Her mother came in with a head-shaped thing in her hand with hair on
it. "Not with this on you won't." she offered explaining that, to be
fair, I had to put on and fix up the blonde, a little longer than
shoulder length wig she was holding.
She then said that I was to go into the bathroom and take a shower, but
I had to use the toiletries that were there. However, first they had to
spread some kind of "hair gunk" all over me. When I asked why, they
said it was just part of what girls had to go through. They told me to
strip down to just my under shorts.
Although I protested mightily, they said it was part of the deal. So I
embarrassingly complied, and they smeared the "hair goop" all over my
legs, chest, and underarms. I wondered why when I was very blonde and
had little noticeable body hair anyway. Then, in just my underwear, I
slowly walked the few feet to the bathroom in the hallway of their
modest post World War II bungalow.
I closed the door, and turned on the shower noticed that there was only
Camay soap and Prell shampoo there. I didn't really need shampoo since
my hair was always cut in a "burr" in those days. Into the shower I
went, and watched the "hair gunk" wash off and down the drain. I washed
myself with the girlish smelling soap and ran the girlish smelling
shampoo over my head.
When I was done, I turned off the water and pushed back the curtain to
find that a girl's plush, pink terry bathrobe had been left for me to
put on because my underwear was gone. Through the closed door, Linda
told me to use the girl deodorant that was on the counter and to rub
the lotion that was there all up and down my legs and dust myself with
the powder on the counter. I did as requested although I didn't
understand why until I was applying the lotion and noticed that my legs
were incredibly smooth and, actually, felt kind of neat. I also noticed
that the deodorant burned a bit on my newly bare armpits. I put on the
bathrobe, which surprisingly was big enough and headed back to Linda's
room smelling, but not looking, very girlish.
Linda and her mother were waiting. I was handed a pair of white nylon
panties with lace on the front that went from waist to the leg opening
at the left side seam and diagonally from the right the right side seam
at the leg opening back to the top of the left at the waist. Linda's
Mom had divorced and always seemed to have more than reasonable means,
and the panties appeared to be new and quite expensive and more
feminine than anything I had ever seen among my sister's stuff. They
told me to put them on while they turned their backs. So, the game was
on, and, with shaking hands, I slipped my feet through the leg openings
and slid them up my legs under the bathrobe. I must say they felt truly
incredible although I didn't tell anyone. They were smooth and cool to
the touch and fit perfectly and began to cause unexpected stirrings in
my private parts.
Now, I wasn't at all a big guy for my age at about 5'6" and 130 or so
pounds, but Linda and her Mom were both rather petite. Given that what
I had just slipped into couldn't be either of theirs, I asked where
they had gotten them and was told that they had bought them at one of
the upscale department stores just for the event. I began to feel that
just maybe they were enjoying this a little too much.
Linda's Mom stepped behind me and told me to take off the bathrobe. As
I reluctantly did as she asked and was standing there feeling very
self-consciously in only the silky panties, she reached around my waist
with a piece of fabric in her hands. As she pulled up around my middle,
I noticed that it was kind of satiny but had no idea what its purpose
was. When I asked, her Mom informed me that it was a waist cincher and
that it would help me fit into girl's clothes better. As she worked to
get it to where it apparently needed to be, I noticed that it ran from
my lower rib cage to a bit below my waist and was smaller in the middle
that on either the top or bottom. Then I felt it begin to squeeze me as
she worked behind me out sight. I kept getting tighter and tighter and
was restricting my normal breathing. When I brought this up, I was told
not to worry and that I would get used to it in short order. In a few
minutes, she was apparently finished and came back into view. To this
day, I'd almost swear that I detected slight but sly smiles on both of
their faces as they seemingly relished my apparent discomfort.
Linda then walked behind me and similarly reached around me with fabric
in her hands, but this time I recognized it to be a brassiere. She told
me to stick my arms through the straps, and as she began to pull it
into place, I noticed that it wasn't like any bra I had ever seen
before. It was white like the panties I was wearing and made from some
kind of material that was shiny and smooth instead of the typical
cotton of the day. It had a lot lace around the top of the cups and
they were pre-shaped by some kind of built-in padding. Although I said
nothing, I suspected that this was another item that they had purchased
just for the occasion. Linda's mom then moved close and began fooling
with the front of the bra. She had some shaped foam rubber pads she was
putting in the cups. After a bit of fiddling, pushing, squeezing, and
adjusting, I guess she was satisfied with her work. When I looked down,
the bra cups were jutting out, and at the tops, my own flesh seemed to
look like I actually had breasts. I also found that the feel of the bra
stretching around my body and the straps over my shoulders was kind of
exciting. My stirrings below increased considerably, and I had to grit
my teeth to keep my maleness, albeit not huge, from noticeably
sprouting inside the silken panties.
About now, I was wondering to myself just what bearing all this had on
out "bet", but, after my long dry spell, there was no way I was likely
to say anything that would be likely to alter the course that we were
currently on. I was also hoping they didn't notice that I was simply
eating this up. I was snapped back into the here and now when Linda's
Mom handed me a flat box about the size of one of today's DVD's. I
recognized it immediately as a box of new stockings. She told me to
pull the stretchy straps dangling from the bottom of waist cincher
inside the panties and out through the leg openings and sit down on the
edge of the bed. I did as she recommended, and, as I sat down on the
bed, I opened the box of stockings. Inside, among the folds of
protective tissue paper, I found a brand new pair of expensive
stockings in a color that all the teenage girls wore at the time called
"cinnamon". I had many times admired them on the girls I would see at
school and elsewhere. The stirrings below began to return, and I
gritted my teeth once again. Mom showed me how to "rosette" (her word)
one of the stockings and slip it over my toe and then work it up my
leg. She attached it to the garters for me. The silkiness felt so good
that I almost couldn't stand it. I put on the other stocking and
attached it to the garters as she had the first. There I was standing
there in silky white panties, silky white waist cincher, silky white
bra with breasts, and the dreamy reddish stockings on my legs. I was in
heaven, but I couldn't let them know. Not yet, anyway.
Linda handed me two more white satiny garments. When I got them
unfolded, I saw what I learned was a "camisole" to which they had
referred weeks earlier. It looked like the top part of a slip without
the bottom and was trimmed with tons of lace around the breast area.
There was also a half-slip with tons of matching lace trim at the
bottom and up a slit in the side. I held out the half-slip and stepped
into it. As I slid it up to my waist cincher slimmed waist, I noticed
how cool and smooth it felt gliding up the ultra-smooth stockings on my
legs. I dropped the camisole over my head and adjusted it into place. I
was covered in soft, smooth, silky white nylon from my chest to almost
my knees and legs encased in the reddish nylon of the stockings from
there to the floor. I wanted to just start twirling around so I could
enjoy the awesome feeling of it all.
Now, I was told, it was time to fix my face. The led me to Linda's
dressing table and said that I was not to look in the mirror until I
was told I could do so. Her Mom went to work filing and coloring my
fingernails while Linda began on my face. As she was working she
described what she was doing. First there was liquid make-up dabbled on
and smoothed from hairline to well down my neck. That was followed by
eyeliner and a pencil that was used to create more feminine eyebrows
where my nearly unnoticeable blond ones were. She used a curler on my
eyelashes and followed that with mascara on the top and bottom lashes.
Before Linda then painted my lips with the very same very red lipstick
that she usually wore, she put something on my cheeks that she said
would "highlight" them. I happened to look down and noticed that my
fingernails were now about the same color of red. My nails weren't
overly long, but, with the shaping her Mom had done, my hands looked
quite feminine. I thought I was about done when Linda added some eye
shadow to my eyelids. I was busy being overwhelmed by the incredible
scent of the make-up so close to my nose.
Her Mom came back into the room (I hadn't even noticed her leaving)
and, from behind, slid a wig onto my head. While she was adjusting and
straightening, she explained that it was her wig, and it was made of
human hair so that it would look and feel real, and that she had
restyled into something more fitting for a teenaged girl. They added
clip-on earrings (in those days only "slutty" girls had pierced ears)
that dangled from my earlobes, a girls watch and bracelet, a couple of
adjustable rings on my hand, and a chain necklace with a sliver heart
locket. I started to turn to the mirror and see what had happened to me
but was told that the time wasn't right just yet.
The led me over toward the bed where there was another pile of
garments. The first was something they called a "crinoline" that I was
told to step into just as I had my half-slip. I did that and pulled it
up to my slimmed waist. It was made of some net like material that made
it puffy enough to stand out all around me, but it was lined with a
silky skirt not unlike the half-slip I was already wearing. As
instructed, I reached underneath it at the bottom and pulled the half-
slip into its proper place.
Linda picked up a dress, stood on the chair I had just occupied while
she made up my face, and dropped the bottom over my head. With the help
of her mother, they pulled down and over the crinoline. I felt some
tugging behind me as Linda zipped the dress up the back and hooked the
small cloth loop to the little metal loop at the top. I was pleasantly
surprised by the snug feeling as the dress now hugged my body from my
shoulders to just below my waist then flared out over the crinoline.
The short sleeves were puffed and the neck was square and open to just
above my bra so that I could feel the hair of the wig lying on my
shoulders. The dress itself was a pale blue brocade material.
Again thinking I was done, I began to turn to the mirror but, like
before, was told no. Linda placed a pair of white not-so-high-heeled
shoes on the floor in front of me and told me to step into them.
Surprisingly, the smoothness of my feet with stockings on slid in
easily, and I stood there a bit unsteadily.
Linda and her Mom stepped back and surveyed their work walking all
around me standing there in the middle of the room in a dress. I guess
they liked what they saw because gave me a touch of perfume (it almost
made me swoon) and told me to close my eyes. Once I did, I felt a hand
on either elbow as I was gently propelled forward. I had a bit of
trouble with the high-heeled shoes, but I went wherever I was being
led.
When we stopped, I was asked to open my eyes, and found myself standing
in front of a full-length three-way mirror. When I looked in the
mirror, I didn't recognize the image there. In the mirror was slender,
very feminine, very attractive, even rather shapely, blonde, teenaged
girl who looked as though she was headed downtown on a date in a full
blue dress and white high heels. I simply was not aware that the person
I was seeing in the mirror could possibly be me. There was nothing of
the image that even vaguely resembled what I had been seeing in the
mirror for several years. The effects of the make-up had totally
altered my facial appearance. The accented eyes and more pronounced
arch of the eyebrows, highlighted cheekbones, and reshaped lips were
those of a very pretty female stranger.
When it sunk in that it was me, total amazement swept over me. What an
incredible job they had done
Part Three
As I gazed into the mirror for quite a while running my eyes up and
down the image presented there drinking it in with considerable
disbelief, I found my self thinking of the various new feelings I was
experiencing at the moment. I felt the hair of the wig on my bare
shoulders. I could feel the dangling part of the earrings shifting with
every move of my head. I sensed the exhilarating smell of perfume and
make-up I again felt the tug of the bra around my body and over my
shoulders. The original discomfort of the waist cincher had been
replaced by a rather pleasant sensation of snugness. I could feel the
garters tugging at the tops stockings that I could feel encasing my
legs. All I knew is that I felt as I had never felt before, and I
really liked it.
Then, I began to look more closely at the image in the mirror. The
curly, long blonde hair was on MY head. The beautiful earrings were
dangling from MY ears. The mascara and eyeliner accented, light blue
shadowed eyes under the very femininely arched eyebrows were MINE. The
liquid make-up smoothed facial features, and the beautifully shaped red
lips were MINE. I looked down and saw the swelling of the artificially
created breasts just below the heart-shaped locket and realized they
were on MY chest. The red nails on hands with the dainty rings on the
fingers below the charm bracelet and watch were MINE. I looked again to
the mirror. The slim waist above the flare of the dress was MINE. The
now fairly shapely legs in the reddish cast stockings and white high-
heeled shoes were MINE. All the nylon smoothness of the panties, slip,
and camisole was next to MY body. To this day, I am unable to describe
just how incredibly great I felt all over when it all soaked in. I can
say that I knew that what I was seeing and feeling was like I had never
experienced before, but, deep inside, I knew I loved it and never
wanted it to end.
I'm not sure just how long I was standing there admiring and realizing
myself, but finally Linda asked me what I thought.
I was still nearly speechless and managed only a wavering, "Is that
really me?"
Linda and her Mom assured me that it was. I really wanted to tell them
about the feelings I described above but couldn't. I did manage to ask
them what they thought of their work. They said that they were quite
proud of their handiwork and that it was time to learn a bit more about
what it's like to be female. Although I kept my thoughts to myself, I
was truly eager to learn all that I could about what was at that very
moment making me feel like I was in heaven.
Even though I was not really sure of what they meant, they ushered me,
still somewhat unsteady in the high-heels, into the living room and
told me to wait as they left the room. I sat down on the couch being
sure to use my hands to gather the full skirt of my dress under me as
they had told me a lady should and drank in the heady sensations of
finally being fully dressed as a female. Once again, I reveled in the
smooth nylon under the dress brushing against my skin from chest to
knees. I looked down again and admired the bulges on my chest. I
crossed my legs at the knees amidst the rush of the crinoline and the
tugging of the garters and the feel of nylon-on-nylon of the stockings
on my legs about drove me mad. I loved the way the skirt of my dress
billowed over my lap. I looked down at the reddish nylon legs coming
out below that fullness of the dress and ending in the white high-
heeled shoes, and realizing they were my legs and feet was almost too
much. I watched detached as I rubbed my hands with the dainty rings and
red fingernails over my nylon encased legs and felt the smoothness. I
reveled in the view, and felt that I had to be in heaven. I could feel
my maleness rising inside my panties, but I knew that with the full
dress, nothing would show. I really wanted to reach under all the
wonderful clothes I was wearing and give it a really good yank, but I
opted only to rub it through the feminine attire instead. With all of
the nylon and such, even that felt heavenly, and I had to stop or I
would have made a real mess of myself and my new clothes.
Again, I'm not sure of how long it was before Linda and her Mom
returned to the living room. Her Mom was dressed in slacks and
announced that she was going out for a while to do some shopping and
then meet a friend for drinks and maybe dinner. Linda finally entered
my line of sight, and I realized that she had changed into an outfit
quite similar to what I was wearing. A full dress, stockings, heels,
hair and make-up done, and appropriate jewelry. I wondered to myself
just what might be about to happen. However, as good as I felt in all
the girlish attire nothing much could bother me at the time.
Her mother left, and Linda sat down on the couch near me. Again my mind
began to wander as I looked at Linda and the way she was dressed. I ran
my eyes up and down her noticing every detail that I could. I looked
carefully at her hair, make-up, perfume, dress, stockings, and shoes. I
realized that each detail was very similar to mine, and I wondered if
we really looked like two teenaged girls talking to one another on a
couch. At this time I was truly hoping we did.
Linda broke the silence by saying that I should learn how to walk in
the high-heeled shoes better. I agreed to try and she helped me with
smaller steps, walking more on my toes, and swaying my hips a bit. I
was still quite distracted and immensely enjoying the hair of the wig
brushing back and forth on my bare shoulders, the swish of the
crinoline, the stockings smoothly rubbing together, and the pulls and
tugs of the of the bra, garters, and waist cincher I had on as I
practiced walking. After a while of walking back and forth across the
room, she said that I was doing fairly well but I had to remember to
walk that way the whole time I'm dressed as a girl. I could only say
that I'd try.
I mentioned to Linda that I was sure that the clothes I was wearing
were neither hers not her Mom's, and wondered just where she got them.
She told me that her mother had purchased the panties, bra, half-slip,
camisole, shoes, and stockings specifically for the occasion. She then
told me that she had made up some fool story about a cousin and a house
fire and conned several of her friends and acquaintances of larger
stature out of the rest of the clothes. The rest of the clothes? She
said that she had several different outfits in her room that I could
wear if I wanted to. Little did she realize that I really wanted to
wear every piece of clothing she had collected. At the moment, I felt
as though I never wanted to wear boy clothes again, but I couldn't tell
her that. At least, not yet!
She asked if I wanted to see the other clothes that she had for me, and
I said that I would like that. In her room, she began pulling boxes and
bags out of her closet and from underneath her bed. She took various
pieces and assembled them in combinations on the bed. There was a
pleated skirt and blouse almost the same as she was wearing the day
this all started. There was a gray straight skirt with a slit at the
hem and a dainty lightweight sweater that went with it well. There was
also straight dress in red and a black party dress. Most unlikely of
all was the pair of stretch pants with the foot stirrups and an "angel"
top to go with it. There were other high-heeled shoes in red and black
and "flats" in black. She dug into another bag and pulled out a large
pile of lingerie. There were more bras, panties, garter belts, slips,
half slips, camisoles in beige, pink, and black and even black and
white panty girdles and an open bottom girdle along with a couple more
boxes of brand new stockings. Some of the selection was new because the
tags were still on those items. Linda said she had even more, but we
could get to that later. I never thought that I would feel the way I
was feeling, but I just wanted to grab her and kiss her for all that I
was beholding at the moment. Still, I couldn't let anyone know how much
pleasure I was getting from all this.
It was just about midday as Linda and I sat, dressed almost exactly
alike, on her bed sifting through the supply of clothing. We were
engaged in small talk almost like two typical teenaged girls might be.
Finally, she started asking me very pointed questions about how I felt
about being about as female as a guy could be. I kind of stammered
around a bit and said very little. Recognizing my discomfort, she
reached over and put her hand on mine gently saying that she was among
my best friends and that I could tell her anything because whatever we
did or said during this adventure would remain our secret forever. I
wasn't sure I could believe that, but I had to tell someone how I was
feeling, and she was the most likely candidate. I started by asking her
to tell me truthfully just how feminine I really looked. Referring to
the time I spent looking at my self in the mirror, she said that with a
bit of practice in the ways of the female, my best friend would not
know if he was sitting right beside me. That made me feel better about
talking with her so we agreed to be "girlfriends". She suggested that I
have a feminine name while we were doing all this and we ran through
several before we both decided that we would go with Joyce (names such
as Michelle, Jennifer, and the like were still quite rarely used). It
had nothing to do with my boy name, but it was the name of a very cute
girl from school that I had long admired (actually envied her luck to
be wearing all the neat clothes she wore). Now we set about talking
like a couple of typical teenaged girls.
I began trying to telling her about all the feelings I had experienced
since they did their magic. I told her of the feel of all the silky
smooth nylon against my skin, the tugging of the bra and garters, the
smell of the make-up, the hair brushing my shoulders, the earrings
dangling, and the stockings on my legs. I told her how it felt when I
saw my self in the mirror and not being able to believe it was actually
me. I told her of admiring all of the feminine things I was now wearing
and how they all made me feel. I said that if this is what it's like, I
really like being a girl even if it is still only pretend. I told her
that since we had nearly two weeks, I wanted to try on every piece of
girl's clothes she had collected for me. I told her I wanted to learn
how to act like a girl. I told her that I wanted to be a girl for as
much of the next two weeks as possible.
While I was bearing my soul, I hadn't noticed that she had been
scooting closer and closer to me, and I hadn't noticed that my maleness
was now at full attention under my dress. I don't know what brought it
about, but, all of a sudden, we leaned toward each other and two pairs
of bright red lips met. It started with small kisses until each tongue
began to probe the other mouth. The rate of breathing increased for us
both. Hands began sliding everywhere over bodies. My hand found her
stockinged leg about the same time her hand found mine. They began
sliding higher and higher up under each dress. Soon I felt my hand on
the very top of her stocking and hers was at mine. Passion in each of
us was rising rapidly. Soon my hand reached her panties and hers. I
could feel the warm and wet inside her panties as her hand began to
caress my maleness through my panties. I was about to explode.
The petting lasted at a fever's pitch for quite a while until I could
stand it no longer and whispered into her ear that maybe we should take
off some of out clothes so we don't make a complete mess of them. She
agreed and we stood together still in each others heated grasp. I
kicked off my high-heeled shoes while she still had hers on which made
us about the same height. While the kisses continued, I reached behind
her and unhooked and unzipped her dress and slid it down her body and
over her shoulders and arms until she was standing in the middle of the
dress supported by the crinoline on the floor. Linda did likewise
undoing and slipping my dress down to the floor. We stepped out of the
dresses and were now standing there in the others embrace petting
heavily in slips, camisole, and stockings. It was truly heavenly.
I pushed Linda gently back on to the bed and the flying hands continued
each touching the other everywhere they could. It was unbridled passion
in a sea of nylon and lace. I undid and removed her bra while pushing
her camisole down far enough to bare her breasts. They were of a nice
size and very full and firm. My red lips couldn't wait to surround the
swollen nipples. It wasn't long before she was panting and moaning low
in her throat. I was a virgin, and I knew she was too. I wasn't really
sure what to do next so I asked her if she would like for me to
pleasure her with my mouth. Se grunted in the affirmative so I reached
under her slip and slid her panties down her legs until they were
dangling from one of her ankles. I slowly rubbed and kissed my way down
her body as I lifted her slip to bare her loveliness. I licked and
kissed all over her thighs above her stocking stops as the smell of her
waffled to my nose. I am hard put to describe how wonderful the
dangling earrings felt my head neared her now dripping love nest.
Finally, my lips found her special ones as her moaning increased even
more. My tongue shot as deep into her vagina as it would reach and
found, quite by accident, her clitoris. Linda moaned in ecstasy as I
continued to lick and probe in the salty sweet love nest. It wasn't
long before her body began to tense as her back arched. She let out a
muffled scream as she grabbed the back of my head and held it to her
groin with all her might. My tongue continued its chores until he
muffled scream, and arched back, were accompanies by a lengthy quiver
as she sank back to the bed. I didn't realize it then, but I had made
her cum with my tongue.
I rolled out from between her legs and slid up beside her. There were
the two of us lying there side by side, she a bit more disheveled than
me, our nylon clad bodies wrapped together tightly. When her breathing
returned to normal the kissing and tonguing began anew but with less
urgency and more tenderness. I was still as horny as a frog and my
groin area was aching inside my panties for some relief. As the fervor
began to return to our petting, I asked Linda if, since I pleasured her
with my mouth, she would do the same for me. It wasn't long thereafter
that her lips were tracking her way down my body. She began kissing on
my neck and biting on my ear and proceeded down to kiss all over the
flesh mounds at the top of my bra. Soon I felt her hand under my slip
grabbing the waistband of my gorgeous white lacy panties and sliding
them down my stockinged legs until they, too, dangled from just one
ankle just as hers still did. I felt her hair on my bare thighs above
my stockings as her head slid under my slip and neared my manhood. I
knew she had never done anything like this before, but I wasn't ready
for just how naturally good Linda was at giving oral satisfaction.
Her tongue began licking up and down my rigid manhood and all over my
balls as she followed that with great wet kisses all around my shaft.
Just when I was thinking I couldn't stand any more she took my member
in her mouth and began moving her head up and down with vigor as her
tongue darted every which way. I soon felt a burning in my loins like I
had never felt before. I knew what was about to happen. I didn't know
if Linda did.
"I'm going to cum!" I moaned aloud.
She broke her incredible efforts just long enough to surprise the heck
out of me by saying only "Go ahead." and was back bobbing, sucking, and
tonguing my shaft.
Seconds later, I felt the pleasurable sensation of climax as my seed
began to spurt into her mouth. I had never cum with such force before.
Blast after blast of my seed flew into her eager mouth, and, still, she
continued to lick and suck. When I was finally finished, she still held
me in her mouth sucking gently until the last ounce of fluid I could
generate was drained. How could it get any better than this?
Moments later, we were lying snuggled together on the bed, holding each
other close, with our nylon clad legs entwined. I was in a sort of
dreamy state recounting to myself all the nearly unbelievable things
that had just happened. Here I lay with a girl who had long been
nothing more than a good friend, someone to hang out with. Less than an
hour earlier we had both been total sexual neophytes, and now I had
just performed very successful oral sex on her as she had on me but
with quite a twist. We were both wearing lacy camisoles and half-slips,
and I still had on the sexy padded and stuffed bra. We both had on the
same color of silky smooth stockings with our respective panties
dangling from one ankle. I guess we looked like a couple of up-scale
lesbians except for the additional parts that were now dormant beneath
my slip. This was all just a bit beyond anything I might have imagined.
After lying there together, cuddling for a while, we sort of
simultaneously decided we had best get up and get dressed once again.
Her Mom had said that she would probably be out until late in the
evening, but we were both a bit nervous that she might return early. It
would not help the continuation of my newfound pastime for us to be
found as we were.
As we both got out of bed, I reached down and took hold of the panties
still around Linda's ankle and held them so that she could insert her
other leg. I slid them sort of slowly up her nylon-clad legs, rubbing
her legs lovingly as I did, and up underneath her slip until they
covered the wonderful love mound that I had just enjoyed for lunch and
over her well-shaped rear. I then put my other leg in my own panties
and slid them up into place with equal enjoyment. I retrieved her
discarded bra, helped her into it, hooked it in the back, and pulled
the camisole into its proper place for her. So, there we stood looking
for all the world like two disheveled teenaged girls. We had destroyed
each other's make-up, and both heads of hair were in need of some
repair. She motioned me to the dressing table once again and sat me
down in the same chair in which I sat while she had done her earlier
magic. Linda went to work immediately refreshing the foundation,
touching up my eyes, putting a fresh coat of the wonderful smelling red
lipstick on my lips, and brushing the wig back into shape. I rose, and
she repeated the process on herself. We glanced simultaneously into the
mirror as she expressed her approval of the repairs she had made.
"We both look just like we did this morning. No one could ever be able
to even guess what fun we had just had." she announced aloud.
With that we walked over to where our respective dresses "stood" in the
middle of the room propped up by the crinolines underneath. I followed
Linda's lead as she deftly reached into the open top of the dress and
took hold of the waistband of the crinoline underneath and stepped into
the dress pulling it up to her waist. I did likewise, and watched as
she reached underneath the bottom of the dress and got her half-slip
properly repositioned.
Again, I followed her lead and continued to do so as she put her arms
into the sleeves of the dress and kind of shrugged it over her
shoulders. She turned her back to me and lifted the back of her hair
with one hand, wordlessly indicating that she wanted me to zip and
refasten her dress. I complied, and then turned my back to her and with
great delight lifted the back of my hair (I had never had the pleasure
of doing something so girly before) for her to redo my dress as well.
We both stepped back into the discarded high-heeled shoes, although I
am fairly sure that she didn't enjoy the pinch of the toes and the
extension in the calf muscle nearly as much as I did. Linda did a head
to toe check of me and declared that I looked just as I had when they
had finished earlier that day. I could easily say that I certainly feel
the same as I had when the day had begun. With a fresh spray of the
lovely perfume for each of us and a check of herself in the mirror, we
returned to the living room. I felt totally female once again as I
consciously minded the size of my steps and added a sway of my hips as
I walked, once again enjoying all of the sensations of the tugging and
swishing of the wonderful female attire I was wearing.
What might lie ahead was certainly unknown to me.
Part Four
As we sat on the couch listening to her collection of the current rock-
and-roll hits on 45 RPM records (not even cassette tapes had been
invented yet, let alone CD's), her Mom called to check on us and say
that she was going to meet someone for "cocktails" and dinner and
wouldn't be back until at least eleven that evening.
Linda kind of "danced" to the music on her way from the telephone back
toward the couch. She reached out a hand to me and invited me to dance
with her. I had to remind her that I was just learning to walk in the
high-heeled shoes so there was no way I could dance in them. I would be
almost sure to fall on my nylon-clad rear. She pondered for just a
moment and announced that she could fix that as she began leading me
back to her room.
Once in her room, she again turned her back to me and lifted the hair
from her neck, and I dutifully unfastened and unzipped her dress for
her. I turned around to her to allow her to undo mine. Once again we
stepped out of our shoes and our dresses from the top, but, this time,
she put everything on hangars and returned it all to the closet. She
came out of the closet, walked over to the bed and laid out pleated
skirts and frilly, very feminine blouses for each of us. I could
readily tell by the size, which was intended for me.
I followed her lead once again as she put on the blouse. I found the
reversed buttons a bit difficult to do but finally managed. I stepped
one leg at a time into the waist opening of the pleated skirt and
pulled to my waist just as Linda had done. The waist cincher had
narrowed my waist enough that the side button and zipper closed easily
before I reached under the hem of the skirt to adjust the half-slip as
I observed Linda doing. She handed me a pair of black "flats" shoes
with a simple strap across the top of the foot. Again the nylon on my
feet allowed me to slip them on easily as Linda did likewise. I sort of
missed the feel and effects of the high-heeled shoes, but a check in
the mirror told me that, with the reddish nylons on, my legs were still
quite pleasantly girlishly shaped. Back to the living room we went
where I was now about to learn how to dance girlishly.
I was almost salivating over the prospect as I pictured in my mind an
image of Linda dancing once in the past dressed just as we both were
right now. I recalled how the pleated skirt flared out as she spun but
the slip underneath stayed closer to her legs. For some reason, I
thought that that was so incredibly feminine, and I wanted it to be me,
too. She put a new stack records on the phonograph (no stereo just yet,
folks), and hit the switch to play the first one. As if I could ever
forget, the song was "Tossin' and Turnin". Linda was already moving to
the rock beat of the music as I watched her movements. After a while, I
began trying to emulate what she was doing. I tried to move more
fluidly than I might as a male as Linda shouted out corrections to what
I was doing. Soon, I must have caught on because she was nodding her
head in approval frequently as we danced. The record changed to another
fast song, and we kept dancing. I kept looking down at my pleated skirt
to see if it was flaring out as I remembered Linda's doing before.
Satisfied that it was and that my slip and stockinged legs would be
visible underneath, I continued to dance in a kind of dreamy state with
that image, but this time of ME, in my mind.
After a while, Linda suggested that we should have a bite to eat. We
went to the kitchen where she made some lunchmeat sandwiches and soft
drinks and placed a straw in each glass. As we sat at the kitchen
table, she reminded me once again to gather my skirt under me and to
only cross my legs at the ankles or the knees while always keeping my
legs together. She gave me constant instruction to be sure that I took
smaller bites and used my hands in a more girlish manner and made every
move much more girlishly. As we ate and chatted, I couldn't keep my
self from admiring the feminine hands that were putting the food to my
mouth or glancing down at MY nylon clad legs protruding from the hem of
MY pleated skirt. Once again, I was getting dreamy, but was all capped
off when I noticed the red of MY lipstick on the straw in my drink. I
truly loved being a girl even if it was only pretend.
The day turned into evening as we watched some of the limited
television that was then available and listened to some more music on
the phonograph while we chatted about silly things as two regular
teenaged girls might. I was still totally enamored of the new feminine
world I had discovered and continued to enjoy every new feeling that
wearing so much soft smooth nylon could provide. Every time I walked, I
was elated at the feeling of the pleated skirt swirling about my lower
body as I moved.
Oh, I almost left out the fact that earlier, when I had decided that I
had to go to the bathroom, Linda had instructed me on how to lift my
skirt, pull down my panties just a bit, sit down on the commode, and be
sure to wipe myself completely dry when I was finished. The adventure
was heady as I followed her instructions to the letter. When I finished
and stood, I felt so girlish as I pulled my panties back up under my
skirt and made sure it and my slip were hanging properly.
How could any female not just totally enjoy being able to dress and act
like this all of the time. If it were my choice, I would have chosen to
be dressed as femininely as possible every day of the rest of my life.
I would always have on as many nylon underthings as I whatever I was
wearing would permit, and I would never NOT wear stockings. I would
avoid wearing slacks or jeans if at all possible, but, when I did,
there would at least be a camisole over my torso and stockings on my
legs underneath. I couldn't keep myself from thinking over and over
just how lucky girls were to be able to wear such dreamy clothes all
the time.
As the day turned into evening and my utter enjoyment of continued, I
reminded Linda that I had to be home by ten P.M. because my parents
were due to call and check on me as they would every night while they
were away. Apparently out loud, I was dreading the thought of changing
back into my boy clothes and walking home when Linda suggested that
maybe I really didn't have to. She said that, since it was dark and I
didn't have far to go, I could wear something girly home instead. I
loved the idea but was totally afraid that I might run across someone I
knew on the way. She assuaged my concerns by offering that seldom was
anyone out and about at this hour, and that I could detour around the
corner and down the alleyway to the house to avoid being noticed by my
known to be nosy elderly neighbors. Fully wanting to do exactly as she
suggested, I argued weakly against it and finally said I would give it
a try. She wanted me to try still another outfit, so it was off to the
bedroom and the stash of wonderful, girly clothes again.
Linda stood in the doorway to the closet with a pensive look on her
face contemplating just what she might choose for me to wear. When she
came out, she laid the gray straight, slit skirt and a silky feeling,
flounce trimmed blouse on the bed. Asking what I thought about wearing
that home, my thought turned to the rising stiffness of my member
brought on by the thought of actually going outside dressed as a girl,
which I brought to her attention. I was sure that it would show under
the form fitting skirt she had selected. She pondered briefly, went to
the closet and brought back a long-legged panty girdle (very common
attire for girls of the day) offering that it should keep everything
out of sight.
Still feeling a bit queasy about the whole idea, I removed the pleated
skirt and blouse and handed them to Linda so she could hang them in the
closet. I was sitting on the bed surveying the panty girdle in my hands
when she came back. It was made of some white stretchy material with a
shiny smooth panel across the front and funny little sewn in shapes on
the back just below where ones rear-end might reside. It also had bands
of lacy elastic at the waist and wider lace bands at the leg openings.
I began to ponder just how cool it would really feel to wear something
like this when Linda's voice broke in as she told me to go into the
bathroom and change into the girdle. She instructed me to undo my
stockings from the garters and unhook the straps from the bottom of the
waist cincher (I didn't even know they did that). Then, I could pull on
the panty girdle and re-hook the stockings to the built in garters that
she pointed out.
After what we had done with each other earlier in the day, I thought it
kind of odd that she would suggest that I change in the privacy of the
bathroom, but I went anyway. I did as instructed and unhooked my
stockings from the garters and removed the straps from the loops at the
bottom of the waist cincher. Leaving the stockings gathered around my
ankles, I stepped one leg at a time into the bunched up panty girdle.
With considerable effort, I began to pull and tug it up my thankfully
super smooth, hairless legs. I had not even though that it would be so
difficult to get the thing on. Finally, I got the panty girdle all the
way up and over my rear. As I had been told how to do, I sat on the
closed toilet and gladly pulled the cinnamon stockings back up my legs
and attached them to the garters inside the long legs of the girdle.
Returning the lace-trimmed cuffs of the girdle to their proper status,
I stood and raised my half-slip to check my handiwork. The snugness of
the girdle seemed to extend the feeling of the waist cincher down to my
thigh area.
I rubbed my hands over my stomach, hips, and rear and was amazed at how
firm and smooth those parts of my body felt. I let the slip drop back
down thinking that I had been quite right about how cool wearing the
girdle would be. Although most girls of the day would probably
disagree, the snugness of the girdle felt just wonderful and really
feminine to me.
I returned to Linda's room and put on the shiny trimmed blouse and
again struggled with the reversed buttons. I then stepped into the
skirt noticing that it was lined from hem to waist with a satiny
material as I pulled it up to my waist cincher narrowed waist. The
skirt fit my body quite snugly as I fastened the button and zipper of
the skirt on the left hip, as was normal for the day, and not the rear
as they are today, and, again, the both fastened easily. The thought
suddenly crossed my mind that at certain places my body had as many
five layers of dreamy, girly attire between my skin and the outside
world (i.e. panties, girdle, slip, skirt lining, and skirt) which made
me very happy. I slipped the black "flats" back over my stockinged feet
and walked to the same three-way, floor length mirror in front of which
I had made my debut to myself earlier in the day.
I gazed at the image of a slender young lady in a formfitting, but not
too tight, skirt that stylishly for the times came just below her
knees. I looked at the image in each panel of the mirror enjoying the
shape of the body under the skirt that the panty girdle had created. I
noticed that the rear end in the mirror was high and rounded and how
the waist tapered so nicely above a very flat tummy. I also noticed the
reddish nylon legs protruding below the hem and enjoyed watching the
slit at the back of the skirt reveal still more of those legs when i
moved the right way. Then I took in the silky, flounce trimmed blouse.
The smooth fabric allowed the lace bodice of my camisole to be
discerned quite demurely beneath it and the impression of the bra
squeezing in a bit around my upper body and over my shoulders was also
noticeable. I truly approved of the image in the mirror and reminded my
incredulous self once again that it was ME.
Once more, I became aware of several sensations provided by yet another
feminine outfit. Now, in addition to all of the things I had
experienced for the first time while wearing each of the previous
outfits, I enjoyed the shiny smoothness of the ultra-feminine blouse
covering my arms and shoulders that had been bare before. I exhilarated
in the feeling of the snug straight skirt hugging my body from my waist
to below my knees over the already incredible tautness around my middle
provided by the panty girdle and waist cincher. The total enjoyment of
being dressed completely as a girl and appearing to actually be one
swept over me anew until Linda's voice broke my reverie.
She handed me a brown paper grocery bag. I looked inside to see all of
my male clothes, but there was something else that wasn't mine. She had
added a "babydoll" pajama set in yellow nylon and lace with a matching
panty. She said that since I had been a girl all day, I might enjoy
being one all night, too. She couldn't have been any more correct. She
also handed me a small purse with a shoulder strap telling me it
contained make-up and tissues, which almost any girl my age would be
likely to carry with her.
It had come time for the new me to venture out into the world. I opened
the front door and steeped into the darkness of the awning covered
porch to scan the area for signs of life. Seeing none, I bade Linda
goodnight as she told me to be sure to give her a call after I talked
to my parents and hesitatingly headed down the steps and driveway to
the sidewalk turning right toward my house. There was a street light
maybe fifty feet away in the direction I was headed and another at the
corner before I would reach my house. Crossing the street in the middle
of the block, I was sure that I could keep myself in enough shadows
under the fully leaved trees so as not to be too noticeable to anyone.
As I put on my best girlish walk per my earlier instruction and
practice, I began to become aware of some of the sensations of my
attire again. I could feel the strap of the purse over my shoulder and
the purse itself jostling against my hip. I could feel all the
wonderful tightness of the waist cincher and girdle as well as the
straightness of my skirt forcing me to keep my strides short. In the
cooler evening air, the satiny blouse was cool on my shoulder and arms.
Again, I reveled in the feminine sensations I was getting to
experience, and only wondered what it would have felt like to have the
cool night air on the bare part of my legs between my stocking tops and
panties if I hadn't had to wear the panty girdle to conceal my once
again stirring manhood. I glanced down and saw that the girdle was
doing its job because the front of the formfitting skirt was still as
flat as when I was admiring myself in the mirror. I began to walk with
far more confidence and ease knowing that, at least in the darkness, no
one could possibly tell that I wasn't really a girl.
Part Five
I reached the one intersection separating Linda's house from mine,
which also represented the largest open space between the two locations
and the most well lit area, too. I turned to my left and walked along
the graveled parking area as close to fenced yard as I could until I
was out of as much light from the street lamp as possible. Only about a
hundred feet from my house and half scared out of my wits, I crossed
the street and headed down the alleyway that ran behind my house. It
was very quiet and I enjoyed the sounds of my various female garments
made as they smoothly rubbed on one another as I walked.
I reached the back door off the driveway of my house and entered with
relief. No one in the area locked their houses in my neighborhood in
those days so I didn't even have to take the time to dig a key out of
the purse to get in. The bedroom that I had acquired when my older
sister moved out on her own was right by the back door, so I entered,
put down the brown bag, and sat down on my bed. It was 9:45, and my
parents would be calling soon.
Since there was a telephone beside the back door, I sat on my bed to
await my parent's call. I began to relax from my harrowing venture from
Linda's to here. I surveyed my situation in my mind. Here I sat in my
own bedroom fully dressed in female attire and feeling strangely guilty
while totally elated at the same time. In a single day, I had gone from
my earlier elementary efforts at crossdressing with my sister's clothes
to being as girlish as a guy could probably be. I had enjoyed degree
intimacy with a girl for the first time and got my first blowjob while
wearing nothing but nylon and lace. I had even dared to venture out
into the world dressed as a female. I had experienced a see of
sensations that I had never felt before. I sat on the bed thinking all
over again about just how great it felt wearing the clothes I was
wearing at the time allowing myself to slip back into the dreamy state
in which all of the wonderful sensations became so vivid and real to
me. God, I loved wearing girl's clothes. Maybe, I would love BEING a
girl, too
This time it was the ringing of the telephone that returned me to the
here and now. I jumped off my bed and headed toward the telephone only
a few feet away. I had forgotten how I was attired, but was reminded
when the skirt I was wearing prevented me from taking the size of
strides that habit had caused me to attempt. I answered the phone not
losing the irony of the fact that my parents were talking to their son
while that son was fully dressed as and feeling like a daughter. During
the conversation, I took the time to glance down the front of my skirt
to notice the time I had spent sitting on my bed had created creases
across the part of the skirt front at the top of my legs. Oddly, I had
always thought that those kind of creases looked sexy on girls and now
I suddenly felt kind of sexy, too. They truly would have had a cow if
they had even had an inkling of what was going on.
The conversation was brief, and they were satisfied that I was home
where I couldn't get into any trouble. As soon as my parents hung up, I
called Linda as requested. We talked about my walk home, and I told her
that in a strange way just how much I really enjoyed it. We agreed that
I would return to her house as close as possible to 8:00 AM the
following morning and said goodnight once again.
When she said "I'll see you in the morning, Joyce." I nearly swooned. I
had just been called by my chosen girl name by someone for the first
time.
Returning to my room, I reached into the brown paper bag Linda had
given me and retrieved the "babydoll" pajama set. I laid it out on the
bed deciding it was time to get undressed. Then, I thought, I really
didn't want to take off all the wonderful things I was wearing. I
wanted to wear clothes like this forever. I realized, however, that I
would have to sleep sometime, and I couldn't very well do that fully
dressed.
So, I began by slipping the shoes from my feet. The floor of my bedroom
was tiled (it probably wasn't intended to be a bedroom when the
previous owners added it to the house). I had another exciting new
sensation when I put my stocking feet on the coolness of the floor. I
realized that wearing stockings was surely one of the neatest things
about dressing as a girl. I reached down to my waist and undid the side
zipper and button of my skirt. I enjoyed to no end the feeling as I
slid the now open waist down over the shimmering silken slip that
covered the slimming panty girdle. Everything about putting on,
wearing, and even removing female attire was a new and extremely
sensuous experience for me.
I removed the wig and, for want of someplace better, spread it as
neatly as I could on my basketball in the corner of the room.
Reluctantly, I removed the earring, necklace, watch, and bracelet and
laid them on my dresser. As I stood there in the nylon and lace of my
remaining garments, I inhaled deeply and enjoyed the moment as much as
I possibly could. I really didn't want to take them off because felt so
good wearing them. I just wanted to keep on feeling the smoothness
against my skin, the swishing and rustling when I moved, and the
tugging and binding of the girdle, waist cincher, and brassiere. I
contemplated the pajama set on the bed. I decided to forego the pajamas
and sleep in what I still had on. Wisely, I realized that I would have
to remove t