..and that moment is right now.
This week has been something of a sexual awakening. The crossdressing has resumed, the guilt has been virtually non-existent – under control, but the on-line sessions have not – of that I would openly admit, but I’m on the right track – I think!
I have never considered myself anything other than heterosexual, but I suppose that the experiences I have had over the last few years have made me more than analyse my sexuality. Everything was just fine and dandy during my almost year-long abstention too.
Sure, I won’t deny there have been some erotic moments in one-on-one company in certain situations, but these have been pigeonholed into periodic dalliances with which I am content.
Browsing the internet in my spare time has carried me through a wide range of different elements of pornography which I have well and truly immersed myself in, browsing extensively and inquisitively. I won’t deny that I have seen plenty of crossdressing porn, those in-keeping with my lingerie fetish and this almost naturally carries the viewer into watching she-males and also what I believe are called ‘subs’ at the hands of dominant women.
I have also seen videos which might be described as ‘brain-washing’ erotica – quick changing tightly edited images and high energy music over several minutes, quick shots of provocatively dressed and positioned females, males and she-males, word play and commanding messages trying to hypnotise the viewer into becoming a sissy, cock hungry gurl who gives in to and craves being used because that is supposedly how it should be.
My viewing has been partially inquisitive – the female form but male genitalia and some of these she-males have been stunning, impossible to consider them anything other than a woman in casual attire it would seem.
I have, it has to be said, used a dildo on myself – it was this kind of activity that pushed me over the edge into what I called ‘debauchery’ that put a rapid halt to my crossdressing in November 2015.
Let’s just say that there was just something that I didn’t quite get on with in retrospect, yet the sensation was nice at the time. However, it did not make me crave something real in there. This was yet more of me exploring my sexuality. I have, on occasion, fingered myself in the shower, used smaller, safe items anally but admittedly, nothing significant in recent memory, since November 2015.
Dildos can be used in more than one way to, let’s say, get an idea of what something feels like, but imagining myself doing absolutely anything with another man’s cock has been totally off the radar, totally out of the mindset – until this week.
Back in the crossdressing groove, the desire to wear lingerie at every possible moment has been immense. I went to work dressed in black stockings, suspenders and lacy panties the other day, the erotica of what lay beneath in stark contrast to the every day drag of the office – it helped me get through the day. An order had been put in for a new outfit – a white bridal lace cami-suspender with matching stockings and g-string and I knew that this would be ready from a nearby post office in the same way my old pink outfit had been many months ago.
This was my alter-ego blossoming and breaking out of the confines to which she had been restricted for the best part of 12 months.
So – what’s happened? Without going into detail, but clarifying that the lingerie had been taken off and stored in the man bag, let’s just say that I found myself in an overtly sexual position compared to the man nearby in close proximity (who was, with consent, touching me intimately) and, well, I was, it seemed, up for whatever ‘it’ might have manifested itself to be.
Feeling particularly well turned on and desireable, I found myself quite literally rising up on a wave of sexuality, reaching for his crotch and feeling his hardness through the trouser material. I must have caressed and rubbed for a few minutes, the hardening having already started before my hand moved somewhat dramatically and surprisingly to his crotch, my sexuality and far less clothed position having already turned him on he told me.
Somewhere inside, at that moment, my brain was in reboot, stalling at such a wave of sexual data being input, conflicting with any more rational thoughts, fighting against them and winning. “F**K it“, I thought in an instant of an instant of an instant – somehow, the moment felt right and I was in a place I’d never been before and prepared to embrace it.
Reaching for the zip, I found it was down fairly quickly and pulled out his stiff cock which sprang to my attention. There was no room or apparent need for a millisecond of thought – I quite simply went down on him slipping a hard cock into my mouth for the very first time ever, much to their ever greater surprise (I had already gone much further than he had expected by grabbing his crotch) and my gung-ho attitude.
My brain was in shut down, no perceived need to think at all, instead, overpowered by wanton lustful experimental craving. Learning all the time, I must have spent a good few minutes sucking up and down his hardened shaft, up and down, deep and shallow, swirling my tongue around the head as it was clamped around his hardness before plunging back down again, as if I knew what I was doing, hearing occasional surprised moans at the pleasure being experienced as I worked – although I have no recollection of going deep. I remember cupping and gently rolling his balls with one hand whilst I pulled on the shaft having released my mouth for a moment.
I acknowledged that there was no taste – this was hygiene personified to make the situation as it was. This was, as I’ve read since, just like sucking on your own finger or arm – simply warm skin. This acknowledgement seemed to make what I was doing matter even less, and I once more plunged my mouth down for round 2. In between, I had reached for my own semi-hardened cock and masturbated a little as I continued to let my sexuality and extent of arousal pour out and push me on and outwards – still to the surprise of the recipient of my sudden out-of-the-blue bout of man-on-man oral sex.
A position change was suggested which resulted in my cock being held in his hand with his cock – both being rubbed together. The further heightened erotic, never before experienced situation caused some pre-ejaculate to leak out of me as orgasm seemed virtually uncontrollable. I felt the urge to control and hold at all costs and did so – somehow seeing orgasm as a rather unsuitable, non-preferred way to cancel everything out and remove me from this other identical but parallel world I had found myself carried into. In that moment of intense intimacy, my partner deftly swept the pre-cum from the tip of my cock and proceeded to rub it on to the tip of his still hard member.
The fact that I’d had to pull myself away from a brink that I didn’t want to get to for a number of reasons seemed to bring about a rapid end to things. Somehow, there and then, I had gone far enough. A momentary wave of what was actually irrational guilt hit me hard.
We embraced – a long warm and arguably reassuring bear-like hug, moments after I had put my hands over my face – in a wave of denial, guilt and shock at what I had just done. I began to talk about it – probably rambling to an extent. There was to be no sexual peak though, no comedown from such a height – just a quick, consensual stop.
Yet, in the aftermath, I was very quickly at a place of contentment, somehow, just knowing fully that I would not be taken over by guilt of any significant kind – in fact, guilt never crossed my mind – I just set off for my next destination as if this was just another step on another ordinary day and what had happened behind closed doors moments earlier was merely something which had happened, it was nice and that was it.
Nothing wrankled. There were thoughts about what I had just done, but only in reflective, almost satisfactory ways – a bucket list entry ticked almost, another step along the road of sexual exploration, always exploratory, somehow always processing life to the minutiae of detail.
I have played the moment back in my head many times since but again, without any negative feelings whatsoever, no guilt. Those who matter in my life, still matter on the same way – I have not seen this as an affair, a new relationship – it was just a form of consensual sex at a given moment – and it felt good.
Could I imagine doing this with anyone else, male or female and becoming a promiscuous bi-sexual? No. The situation would never be right and nor would I want to – but yet the moment I had been in WAS right.
Although I have allowed a form of role-play and fantasy in my on-line cam sessions whilst dressed in whatever lingerie outfit took my fancy in the run up – but that’s all it would ever get to. It is though, nice to be desired is it not?
Could I imagine doing this or something similar again with the same person? Yes. When and IF I’m ready and willing. I seem to hold control and for that I am grateful and reassured. Could I imagine it going further? Somehow, no, yet I’m almost not saying never right now – that’s a bridge to cross another day. My issues with the after-math of self-pleasuring anally have been one of the few things I have been, at least retrospectively, if not during, unable to find contentment with, get things ‘just so’, rationalise with and that brings me back from going any further right now. There may be some help for me with that though in the fullness of time.
Somewhere, there is an element of recognition of deceit against whoever matters in my life, yet I don’t currently see it that way somehow. Perhaps rather brazenly, as said above, I saw it was a form of consensual sexual activity in the right environment at the right time and with the right person. That IS a surprise to me as to how content I have been in the aftermath, how comparatively dismissive of it I have been since other than the fact that I enjoyed it. Perhaps going further would take me more towards fuller if not all out recognition of deceit. Let’s not go there!
I have done some internet browsing and it would appear that such sexual encounters do happen – even in the most manliest of environments and groupings, sometimes as some sort of bonding ritual. Sex, it seems, happens in all ways, shapes and forms – one person giving pleasure to another – with no labels, no ties, no tags, no assumptions or presumptions.
So, I’ve been carrying on as normal since. Well, I say ‘normal’, but I continue to acknowledge that having found a way to get my webcam working again, I have been on an almost all-out assault on showing off, and/or dressing. I’ve been here before. I went somewhere with it that I found abhorrent back then.
Yet, I remain very acknowledging of the fact that I need to assert control, but I’m not quite in full control at the moment, using early morning and evenings to plan lingerie crossdressing, actually crossdressing and during mornings particularly, getting online and on-cam, however, I recognise that equally, there have also been times when I have NOT been on cam and instead, have been crossdressed in whatever outfit suited me at the time, but whilst covered up in pyjamas, socks and a dressing gown. I dressed for no-one but me.
I have this week relished in the virginal whiteness of my new tight fitting bridal outfit, finding a large amount of women watching and engaging in conversation – much to my thrill, the male viewers almost seeming to give up in trying to interject and compete in the conversation. I have always found it to be extremely exciting in a whole new way to be watched by women who appreciate a male crossdressed in lingerie. Those moments this week have, at times, reached heightened arousal but not out of control – no peak and when it has been time, I’ve politely bid my grateful farewells, undressing and finding a hidey-hole for the outfit before putting my alter-ego away whilst the day-to-day me then simply blends in with the everyday crowd of folk just going about their daily business. Yet there are probably so many very similarly naughty horny people who indulge behind closed doors but look so ordinary day to day just like me.
Nevertheless, the reasoning has prevailed – an opportunity home alone to cross dress conveniently presented itself earlier – so I planned it and did it – a black spider basque, black stockings and black see-through thong, but all covered up in that same ordinary manly nightwear, whilst having the chance whilst I write this blog. Again, I dressed for no-one but me.
That said, acknowledging a need for control and recognition of the already once (and once only) horrific nature of the experience towards being ‘outed’ from my closet, this paragraph was written moments after I realised that crossdressing is now becoming something of an acceptable norm for me and I must be wary that there is no crossover risk. I don’t want to find myself almost forgetting I am crossdressed underneath my PJs etc, so comfortable am I. During a typing pause, my return to ‘civvies’ a few moments ago was therefore to apply the control to which I am trying to focus. Oddly, I felt somewhat rushed and panicked as I undressed and tidied away as if there was somehow imminent danger (as it was – there wasn’t actually) but THAT is NOT a good thing – other than the fact I recognise the risk.
As it happens, it wasn’t that much longer before I was no longer home alone so my timing in tidying up and returning to what I call ‘civvies’ was very good, my reading of the signs perfected.
Returning to crossdressing has been and is thrilling, welcome, enjoyable, and arguably necessary, but I am also mindful of how dangerous it is and can be. But another level of sexuality has this week been found – experimental – intriguing. Use of the term ‘f**k buddy’ doesn’t seem right, more of being a sex toy should I wish to give myself to being, either on-line or, in the right moment – to someone and I’m alright with that.
Bi-sexual? I don’t think so as I don’t look at men that way, but I would concede to a level of bi-curiousness – I have always been happy to learn and discover new things and experiences. That has always been me.
Sometimes, you just have to write a blog…