Yes, and it’s more than that


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

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