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Crossing the First Line of Trying Something On

March 4, 2012

Before I ever tried on any girls’ clothing, I would talk about the clothes.  Around the time I was in kindergarten, my friend (Call him X) and I would talk about and sing about pantyhose.  I do not know why.  I do not know which one of us started us talking about it.  We would regularly talk about them.  Incidentally, we would also talk and sing about going to the bathroom and poop, etc.  I never developed an unusual interest in those topics.  I do not recall us discussing any interest in wearing pantyhose, but I cannot remember many details. (X does not know anything about my crossdressing.)

At some point, I started thinking about slips.  The silky fabric of slips, bras, etc. were attractive to me.

One day, when I was probably seven or eight, I decided to try on some hosiery.  My mother had used some thigh high stockings to tie up some tomato plants.  Growing season was over and the plants were gone.  I untied the stockings from the stakes and snook them into my room.  I remember telling my parents that I was going to play in my room and that they didn’t need to check on me.  (I’m laughing at myself while I type this.)  Apparently they did not check on me.  I put on the stockings for the first time and played in front of my mirror.  I liked how they felt.  When I finished playing in the stockings, I hid them under the bottom drawer of my dresser.

This kind of play went on for some time.  Sometimes, I would get a bra or a slip to add to the play.  I did not wear the bra on my chest.  I enjoyed the feel of the fabrics.  This was all non-sexual play.  All young boys seem to dwell on their private parts more than they do any other part of their body, or so it seems.  This was true of me.  This play did include a lot of attention being paid to that part of me, but again, it was not sexual.

One day, I forgot to put the drawer back over my stash.  My mom was in the hall and pointed into my room and told me to “Throw that away.”  I promptly ran into my room, rolled up the stockings in a wad, ran out to the outside trash, and threw them away.  When I went back in, she asked me, “What was that?”  I told her, “Trash.”  In retrospect, I doubt she would have told me to throw my stash away if she didn’t know what it was.  But I was young and dumb.  I thought that I had kept my secret in spite of the close call.  Mom never mentioned this again.

I have no memory of keeping a stash of hosiery in my room after that event.  Sometimes, I would put on mom’s pantyhose that she would leave in the bathroom. Sometimes, I would include panties or a slip.  However, I never was interested in being a girl.  I was only interested in silky fabrics.  Again, this play was all non-sexual.

I used to wonder if my crossdressing meant I was homosexual.  I did not want to be gay.  I was hardly heterosexual or homosexual or anything.  I was a kid.  Girls had germs, and boys played ball.  With time, I became attracted to girls.  I was heterosexual and I never had any interests otherwise.

Eventually, a man’s body will introduce him to sexuality.  I assume that most, if not all, men discovered self gratification at some point around ten years old.  One day, while I was wearing pantyhose, I was just doing what felt rewarding and it happened.  I did not know what it meant.  After that, I would gratify myself while wearing pantyhose.  The fabric was rather helpful in achieving completion.  I did not know what I was doing.  I did feel like it was naughty and I was always very ashamed afterward.  A connection started to be formed between wearing pantyhose and sexual pleasure.  I would dress in order to satisfy.  I would take off the pantyhose afterward.  I would feel grievous shame. I have read where many other guys like me have told a very similar story.  Apparently, this is a common part of our journey.

I was always so ashamed of being this way.  I remember praying to God asking Him to never let anyone know about it.  I used to think that I would kill myself if my secret was ever found out.  This is not macho.  Boys live with a lot of sensitivities to what is expected of them.  Wearing panties was WAY against the rules.  Although I loved it, I hated it.

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From → True Stories

One Comment
  1. Tammy permalink

    love your posts…

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