I can admit to fetishizing the femme clothing. Silky panties, tights, a bra, tall high heels — all of this arouses me. And I usually succumb to the urge, on my own. This, my secret life. But there is more to this for me. I have been having a recurrent dream for many years, since pre-pubescence, of being dressed as a girl. And enjoying playing in my mother’s closet, and in her purse, with her lipstick. I’ve been thinking about orientation, as well, and I remain happily heterosexual, although otherwise involuntarily celibate thanks to, well, who the fuck knows. But I couldn’t ever swing any other way than hetero. My threesome would have to be me and two “bettys”. I love women, in spite of the example set by mine truly. I couldn’t be, and I am not down with dudes. Ever. So how fucked up is this? I am undeniably, and unregrettably a man. Yet I am an amalgamation of self, as well. I so enjoy being this — so complex, but I think I am too introspective for this to be all that good for me. INTP.
Mood – Bombed on baby buds, shake and leafy trash homegrown. Brown boy shorts, gray sportsbra, post-release, a slight blush in my cheeks. I know because I can feel the heat, on my face, and my ears .
Kisses – KM