HISTORY

THE REAL ME A GIRL

Nancy MacLean

I was hooked the first time that I saw a pair of nylons flung carelessly on a chair in Elaine's bedroom. I was 14, she was 24 and boarded in my parents' house, and they weren't nylons, nylon hadn't been invented, they were silk stockings and the war was on, in more than one way.

From that day I knew I was never to be happy until I put them on my own legs. I watched my chance and then one day I was alone in the house. As soon as everyone had left I rushed to my room, took off all my masculine clothes, and tripped happily into Elaine's sweet-smelling and very feminine apartment. It was what I had waited for and the whole of my life seemed to have led up to this moment. I carefully took the stockings from their resting place, rolled them over my long legs, and all the bolts in heaven shot through my entire body, again and again. It was a shattering shock of such strength that I shuddered with ecstasy. When I had recovered, I found a cute pair of pink panties, a girdle, and in a few moments I had slipped them on and fastened the garters so that the hose were smooth and taut on my legs. I rubbed them together and wave upon wave of blistering shocks wracked my body again. I couldn't stop. I found a bra, shaped it with cotton, dropped a satin slip over my body and was hit again by the electric shocks. The feel of the slip sliding and hitting against my silk-clad legs was deli- cious. I found a beautiful black jersey dress and wiggled into it and I slipped on a pair of wickedly high heeled black pumps. I was born to wear them and walked easily to the dressing table where all of the cos- metics were. I brushed my hair, long hair, into a nice bob and with make-up, mascara, shadow and lipstick, paused to look at myself in the mirror. I was pleasantly surprised-looking back at me was a passingly pretty young woman, nothing like the boy who had come into this room

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