RANSVESTIA

Of course there was the pleasant contact with the clothing-the un- familiar tugs and pulls as I went about preparing dinner. But, there was much more.

A lady that I had never formally met was making herself known to me step by step. After being ignored and abused for years, she was letting me know that she was alive and well and was quite anxious to be recog- nized as a living, breathing entity. I was just as anxious to know her.

At that time, my professional schedule required that I only be away from home in the morning hours. On most days, my time was my own after noon. Considering this happy state of affairs as I sat a'one at the dinner table that night, I pledged that my lady would take advantage of every possible moment to express herself. This meant that every day, as soon as it was practicable, I would return home and allow her to take over as she wished. Except for working hours, she was to be completely dressed in her clothes day and night.

It was a fascinating time. In one sense, I was freer than I ever was be- fore. In another sense, I was a complete captive. In retrospect, I know that it would be more apt to say that the lady inside me had, at last, been set free. The feelings of "captivity" originated in my masculine side for her freedom brought restrictions to him: I could not walk in the yard until after dark, I always had to be aware of my proximity to our large picture windows, I missed a few ballgames, etc.

Naturally, there were times when I resented these limitations but I was determined not to falter from my pledge to make up for years of lost acceptance. The great experiment of living an almost completely femi- nine life was too important to lose.

Again, I knew that it would be folly to expect the sexual aspect of transvestism to become completely dormant. I will be frank to admit that there were times when the excitement was as feverish as ever-maybe more so. But, I learned to accept this as part of the relationship and it was not allowed to effect the bargain I made. Regardless of how high or low the sexual appeal of the clothes was, I would continue to wear them. No way out!

Strangely enough, after a very short time, orgasms related to the cloth- ing or my peculiar situation fell into a very reasonable routine. It was at this time that I made the startling discovery that sex was not my basic

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