Should I tell the one I love?
By Frances Freeman
For those of us that engage in the many pleasures of cross dressing, this particular difficult predicament is bound to crop up sooner or later.
Whichever path we choose only one thing can be certain, unless you are very lucky indeed you are likely to endure much heartache and frustration along the way.
If the answer is no, you may be committing yourself to a life of secrecy and deceit, if the answer is yes, you will probably run the risk of being misunderstood and rejected.
Of course, this will not be the case for everyone and I can only draw on my own experiences to come to these conclusions. However, I am pretty sure that there must be plenty of other transvestites out there whose story is not that different than mine.
I can remember being as young as twelve years old standing naked in front of a mirror with my boyfriend carefully tucked out of sight innocently admiring a reflection that had a strange hint of femininity about it. At this time I had no idea why I did this, all I know was that it felt pleasant and comforting.
At sixteen having secured a Saturday job and having some spare money, I found myself inexplicably purchasing woman's underwear, wonderfully soft silky and delicate panties and bras. I built up quite a collection.
Whenever I was alone I would select my favourite items, put them on and spend hours parading in front of the all-important mirror savouring the pleasant feeling it gave me.
To my absolute horror my secret collection was discovered by my mother and for the first time in my life I was made to feel guilt and shame for my behaviour. Despite being hurt and confused by the subsequent anger and derision, I quickly replaced my confiscated belongings, found a more secure hiding place and continued to dress up as often as possible.
At seventeen I met and fell in love with my first real girlfriend, Irene, and as our relationship blossomed I longed to let her in on my little secret, but the right moment never seemed to come. When we arranged to spend a weekend away together at a caravan park in the countryside an idea suddenly occurred to me. As we unpacked I feigned annoyance telling my girlfriend that I had forgotten to take any spare underwear with me. I managed to persuade Irene to lend me some of her's and she gave me a pair of skimpy powder-blue satin panties.
Feelings
Later on in the local pub she playfully teased me that the outline of her panties were clearly visible through my trousers and what would all the other customers think if they know what I was wearing. I had engineered the situation but failed to take full advantage of it and express my true feelings, something I have always regretted. Instead we laughed and joked about it, I suggested that maybe I could borrow some of her underwear in the future but this was met with a cool response.
The act of wearing those panties in her presence and with her full knowledge was an extremely elating experience, but not wishing to upset Irene I pushed the matter no further. However, I could not stop the compulsive desire to dress up and so I carried on in private and my little collection started to grow. I obtained a skirt and blouse, a dress, more underwear and some makeup.
Our love for each other grew and at eighteen we married, moved away from home and started to make a life together.We were very happy together, but I felt that there was something missing, I desperately wanted to tell my new wife about my peculiar habit, but could not find the words or the courage to do so. As a compromise, keeping my own feminine belongings well hidden, I suggested that it might be fun for me to dress up in some of her clothes as a game, a prelude to sex. In my naivety I imagined that this solution would make it easier for Irene to accept my needs to cross-dress and that, although it was not exactly what I wanted, I at least had the opportunity to dress in feminine clothes in her presence.
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