A man see me in panties became an obsession

From reading others accounts I believe my perversion ( I see it as such but feel no blame for it ) is typical in having these features . Firstly it is innate . It didn't come about because an aunt or a roommate or whomever suggested I wear panties . I gravitated to doing so completely under my own steam . And the urge was progressive - the need to possess different panties new colours , materials, styles grew and expanded into wanting to stockings , skirts , and bras .

It was an evolution that has taken many years to complete and has lasted my now long life . The only feature of it that has not been substantiated is whether the age at which it started in me was ( as I believe ) typical . But that is because of legal prohibitions on publishing ( this site included ) material that could be deemed exploitative of children .I wish not to fall under that exclusion so assure you my earliest experience of crossdressing had no sexual connotation and involved no one other than myself - I include it more as a clinical observation on the strange existence of crossdressing .

Actually there wasn't even any actual crossdresing . The clothing ( a discarded, dirty girdle) proved too small when , after a year of secreting it in a worn truck tire in our garage , I tried to put it on . I had orignally been unclear as to what it was - although sensing it to be feminine - but by then aware enough to briefly try to fumble it on - being defeated by the strong inelastic material which would not pass above my hips . All of this happened long before puberty - I have forgotten exactly - probably about seven . Who knows when the psychological 'switch ' was thrown - maybe it is hardwired into my DNA blueprint .

Changing now to age 18 ; homosexual tendencies were not part of me - or perhaps successfully rejected ( social environment was strongly influential ) - although thinking about panties was a constant accompaniment when masturbating . The fantasizing put the actual panty to the fore - the wearer - to the extent they were required for the frisson - woud be a girl , but how the material gathered at the elastic or be curved over pubis or buttock had my breathless attention .

Touching a girl did not usually get to that stage . Brief tantalysing glimpses from the top deck of a bus into the lingerie shops ( once common in Edinburgh ) were eagerly looked for .

Are any of you cowardly ? It is hard word but the only way I can view my failure to be myself because of fear of how others view me and fear was the cause of my behaviour with the groundsman ( in the synopsis ) in the episode below .

Actually there wasn't even any actual crossdresing . The clothing ( a discarded, dirty girdle) proved too small when , after a year of secereting it in a worn truck tire in our garage , I tried to put it on . I had orignally been unclear as to what it was - although sensing it to be feminine - but by then aware enough to briefly try to fumble it on - being defeated by the strong inelastic material which would not pass above my hips . All of this happened long before puberty - I have forgotten exactly - probably about seven . Who knows when the psychological 'switch ' was thrown - maybe it is hardwired into my DNA blueprint .

Touching a girl did not usually get to that stage . Brief tantalysing glimpses from the top deck of a bus into the lingerie shops ( once common in Edinburgh ) were eagerly looked for .

By 18 ( earlier in fact ) I had bought a pair of panties . Trying not to show red faced embarrassment I had moved quickly to M&S womens' wear and in seconds selected a pair ( lots of change ready to minimize exposure time with the cashier ) . Many panties later I still remember those ' bikini briefs ' - blue , with an applique which while pleasingly feminizing reduced the tingling pleasure of the nylon as I masturbated through it .

If only John the groundsman had known of these he might have had the words to open me to his needs ; or perhaps he sensed a suitable companion in me . He was a coarse fellow who would sometimes show his strength grappling with a boy close to the changing rooms . He sold coca-cola out of the equipment room at the rear of the pavilion - bait , in retrospect .

I was early to practice one afternoon when he approached me stood close and said “ you've got mud on your shirt “ then picked at my shoulder . A short and on the face of it neutral action – but it felt loaded with significance and when followed by “ there's something under the stands you could see “ made me wary of him , and although then without knowledge of homosexuals ( other boys had described being felt up in cinemas ) I instinctively knew he was one . So I distanced myself ( to my subsequent regret – now would that he had initiated me ).

By 21 I was married . My wife unaware and no panties being kept . But my disease had not stood still and daydreaming visions of myself in panties became stronger with the enticing addition of hoping to look attractive when being seen in them by a man . In time he took control of me to make me gratify him ( since those days he spanks me and calls me sissy bitch ! ) . My sex urges were strong and my wife could not make the thoughts go away . Sexual compulsion was so strong I made plans .

I played out the scene . I would go to the pavilion and show John a pair of panties and ask him if there was somwhere I could change into them . After that it was up to him - 'though being fucked by him was the hope .

I bought lacy black ones – unmistakeable when I opened my palm . I also bought a nylon slip – Ireallywanted to be seen as a woman .

Th first stage went perfectly . He was outside and when I spoke my piece and unclenched my panty -bearing fist he immediately understood – inclined his head for me to follow him and strode into the pavilion and upsatirs to an atrium with benches at the rear and a scoreskeepers view and desk to the front .

Then all went wrong . A cleaning woman appeared . She would know of John and kept going but it broke the moment . Giving myself the excuse that I had better have a shit and that I could change into my finery in the loo I went to an adjacent lavatory .

On my return . John had gone .

I have relived that scene where I hold up the panties and say ' these are so pretty - I was hoping you would tell me if they fit right ' whereupon he would do all sorts of wonderful masculine aggressive things with me .

Now , you have just been given a let down . But I can assure you my crossdressing life later became much more titillating – even includes realizations of the failed scenario ! And I will share parts of it - warts and all .

But I tire of writing here and now and will return to this site to fulfil that promise another day .

Rivi

by rivi

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