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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