I’ve been out of work for more than a year, surviving on unemployment checks and savings, much like a lot of folks. However, this situation has supplied an unexpected perk for me. As a cross dresser, I’ve finally been able to live en femme 24/7. Except for my once a week trip to the unemployment office, I’ve been wearing a dress every single day.

When I realized twenty years ago that I was a cross dresser, I started taking care of myself, so I could pass as a reasonably attractive woman. I work out at a gym to keep my five foot eight body trim and use skincare products to keep my complexion healthy. Fortunately, I have very fine, light facial hair. When I was employed with a six figure salary, I had electrolysis done on my face. Even back then, I wore my hair long. However, since becoming unemployed, I’ve let my auburn hair grow out even more. It’s now shoulder length, and I keep it wavy by using a curling iron.

Two weeks ago, I started a new relationship, which was totally unexpected. I love dressing up in a sexy, yet tasteful manner, and on this particular night, I’d spent two hours preparing myself for my evening outing. I had planned to do some window shopping. I thought that maybe I would even splurge on a new outfit at the mall. I shaved and bathed. I curled my hair and spent more than an hour doing my makeup. I take pride in my female appearance, and carefully applied eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick and gloss. For the final touches, I dabbed perfume on my neck and wrists, and painted my fingernails and toenails a vivid red to match my lipstick.

I had decided to wear a black short sleeved dress with a hemline that hit three inches above the knee. I slipped into a sexy 36B black bra with matching black panties, a black garter girdle that was hooked to lace top, thigh high black stockings, and a black slip with four inches of lace at the hem. I love vintage slips from the 1960s and 1970s they’re so feminine looking. I put on my dress, stepped into my three inch black heels, grabbed my purse and a jacket, and was ready to go.

I had to walk quickly to my car, since it was raining hard. I drove off, as always making sure I observed the rules of the road, so I wouldn’t get stopped by a police officer, or worse get into an accident. What I did not anticipate happening that night was getting a flat tire. I must have hit a piece of road debris, because it was not a slow leak it was an explosion. I managed to maneuver my car into the parking lot of one of the upscale hotels on the main avenue, but I was furious. Although I always carry a “man bag” in my trunk which includes a change of clothes if I stripped out of my dress to change the tire, I’d also have to remove my makeup, so I wouldn’t attract the wrong kind of attention. My evening was ruined, or so I thought.

Before I could pop the lock of my trunk, there was a knock on my window. A nicely dressed gentleman in his forties motioned for me to roll down my window. He offered to change my tire, but he suggested that I wait in the hotel lounge until the rain let up. I tried to wave him off, but he was insistent and opened my unlocked door. He offered to park my car, and as he nudged my vehicle into a spot, I stood in my car’s headlights like a startled deer. I hoped that if he discovered my true sex, he wouldn’t scream and yell. Rather than go into the hotel, I stood by and held an umbrella over both of us while he worked on my car.

Afterward, he guided me through the hotel lobby and into the lounge with an arm around my waist. We sat down, and a waitress came over to take our order. He got a scotch and water, and I asked for a coffee. I did not want to chance being asked for identification if I ordered liquor.

He tried to start a conversation, but I kept putting off his questions because I was nervous. Finally, he told me he wasn’t going to bite me. I whispered in a low voice that I was sorry, but I did not want to upset him or cause a scene. That’s when I told him I wasn’t a woman. I thought that sounded better than saying I was a transvestite. I told him I was headed to the mall to go shopping, when I’d gotten the flat. He looked amazed.

He formally introduced himself as Stephen. I told him my true name, Max (short for Maxwell, but I go by Maxine when I’m dressed as a woman). Apparently, he was rather worldly and had seen it all in his travels, so meeting a cross dresser was not unusual. Stephen complimented my feminine look, but he didn’t hit on me at all. We talked for more than an hour. I finally relaxed and felt comfortable with him. By then, the rain had completely stopped.

Before we headed back out to the parking lot, Stephen asked if I would have dinner with him the following night. He explained that he was setting up for a seminar being held the entire next week at the hotel, and he would be delighted to treat me to dinner after his work was done for the day. He saw my hesitation, but then told me that he found me attractive. He also revealed that in the past he’d had a few three way encounters with another man and a woman. He said sometimes the woman encouraged the two men to perform for her, which let me know that he was bisexual without getting graphic. I did not commit to dinner, but I told him that I’d consider his offer. Stephen gave me his room number, and said to call him if I were interested. He gave me a friendly peck on the cheek as he held my car door open for me. I thanked him and reciprocated with a light peck.

As I drove away, he stood watching me. I felt my nerves melt away, and I realized I felt comfortable with accepting the offer of a dinner date with him. I had never let myself get into a dating situation with a guy because I never felt I was gay. Somehow, though, Stephen’s attentiveness and admiration made me feel like a woman, and I wanted to be more open with my female persona.

Before making my final decision, though, I decided to dress first to see how I would appear that evening and how it would make me feel. I used the same shade of lip gloss and eye makeup I’d worn the night before. I wanted to appear bright and cheery, but not seductive, which meant the “little black dress” was out. For my clothing, I selected a sleeveless white dress with a pink floral print and a pink short sleeve jacket, nude stockings and modest pink heels. All my undergarments were white and lacy.

After studying myself in the mirror, I decided to give Stephen a call. My stomach fluttered with nerves as I agreed to meet him in the hotel lounge. I intentionally ran late so he would already be seated. I spotted him as soon as I entered, and walked to his booth. Acting like a gentleman, Stephen rose and greeted me. He then ordered his scotch and water and a glass of white wine for me. After he complimented my outfit and appearance, we talked about his seminars and my line of work. Stephen was truly interested in me as a person, which set me at ease.

After an hour and another round of drinks, he suggested we go to the dining room and eat. I was really enjoying myself, but I was apprehensive about what might happen after dinner. Was he going to hit on me? No, Stephen actually suggested that I get in that shopping trip, saying he’d love to go to the mall with me!

He and I spent several hours window shopping. I ended up buying a pair of shoes, and he thought I would look gorgeous in one of the slinky nightgowns I’d admired in the window of a lingerie store. He told me to wait outside the shop, while he went in and made the purchase. He came out and gave me the little pink shopping bag, telling me it was a gift.

After having a coffee, I drove Stephen back to his hotel. When I let him out, he said he hoped that I would call him the next day for some sightseeing. I told him that I would love to show him around town. That night, I thought of the fine evening I had with him and wondered what it would be like to finally take the plunge and live out my secret fantasy of having sex with a man. The next morning, I prepared myself for an overnight stay with Stephen. I pulled out a suitcase and packed the slinky nightgown he’d bought me along with clothing for several days. I told myself that no decision was final, and I could always change my mind.

The following afternoon, I met Stephen outside his hotel. We spent the day sightseeing. I brought my camera so he could take photos of me around town, something I had never been able to do. We had dinner at a fine restaurant. Sitting there, I confided in him that I wanted to model the nightgown he’d given me. Needless to say, he was very receptive.

In his room, we sipped champagne and kissed. I excused myself and took the little pink shopping bag to the bathroom. I slipped into the floor length red gown he’d gifted me. I felt sexy and glamorous. Stepping out of the bathroom, I presented myself to Stephen. I knew from the bulge in his pants that my appearance had the intended effect. I explained that I was a virgin of sorts, that I’d never had any kind of sex with a man, and I wanted to go slow. I offered to try oral sex first, and if I liked the experience, maybe I’d allow him to slip his cock into my “pussy.”

Stephen was willing to do whatever I wanted, and told me he didn’t have a problem with taking things slow. After he changed into a robe, I knelt between his legs. From my position on the floor, I looked longingly into his eyes. I drew upon my experience receiving head from former girlfriends and worked my mouth on his cock. Whenever I felt he was close to climaxing, I squeezed his cock to stop him from coming, making him gasp and smile. He was a gentleman the entire time and didn’t ever grab my head or force himself down my throat.

The act of sucking another man’s dick for the first time was a real turn on for me. As I swallowed his cock, I felt my own pulsing in my panties. Once I’d had my fun making him moan and sigh, I let him spurt his come into my mouth. I did not quickly swallow his cream and opened my mouth briefly to show him my prize. I closed my lips, and then moved his load around with my tongue, savoring his manly taste before finally swallowing his release. I thanked him for being so considerate. Stephen told me I truly knew the ways of a woman.

That night, we snuggled together in spoon fashion. I awoke in that position in the morning. Stephen had his arms wrapped around me, and I felt his erection nestled between the cheeks of my ass. I wiggled my butt and asked him to be gentle with me. I invited him to deflower me. There was no need to be a virgin anymore. He gently lubed my ass and relaxed my opening with his fingers. Finally, I felt his cockhead pushing into me. My ass instinctively tried to keep him out, but he gently advanced and I relaxed, letting him penetrate me. He sawed into me for several minutes until he exploded.

After he came, I asked him stay in me up to the hilt and let me enjoy the feeling of fullness until his dick completely softened. It was incredible. Afterward, we snuggled for quite some time before we decided to get dressed and go to breakfast.

Stephen and I spent the rest of the weekend together and the evenings during the following week. After his seminar presentations were over, he thanked me for a wonderful stay. He told me he frequently travels to my city on business, and he hoped to see me again. When we parted on his last day in town, I whispered in his ear that any time he wanted to buy me a negligee and have me model it for him, I was ready!

Mr. Maxwell D., Marquette, Michigan

“I know you want to try them on,” I told Douglas. “And you know you want to try them on, too.” He started to protest hand up, mouth open but I stopped him. “I see the way your eyes light up whenever I put on my stockings.”

There are things you learn about your partner from time spent together: The way they take their coffee (I’m cream with two sugars he’s black.). The way they like to sleep (I’m faceup Doug’s facedown). Whether they prefer boxers or briefs (I like bikinis, and I thought Doug did, too). I believe that if you pay careful attention, you can discover things about your partner that he or she doesn’t actively tell you. You just know. For instance, I knew Doug wanted to wear my clothes long before he admitted the concept to me. I saw the way he looked longingly at my pretty frilly undergarments. I caught the way he watched Project Runway with me, and I could imagine he was fantasizing about being one of the models.

“We’ll call them training wheels,” I said, handing over the thigh highs.

“Training wheels?” he echoed, his voice hoarse. His fingers worked the fishnets, gently stroking, almost kneading the material. He touched them like a cat might, but not hard enough to do any damage. When I glanced at his face, I saw that he looked as if his most treasured fantasy was about to come true, and he did not want to make one false move lest he suddenly wake up.

I giggled then, unable to stop myself. “How about tranny wheels?” I said instead, and Douglas laughed, too. That broke the cross dressing ice. The fact that I wasn’t upset, put off, or dismayed made Douglas relax. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “I don’t know how to wear these.”

I looked at him. My guess was that he’d snuck quite a few items from my lingerie drawer for his amusement. But if we were going to play that game, then we were going to play that game.

“Take off your pants,” I told him.

He stood, and I saw he was trembling as he kicked off his boots, lost his socks, and then pulled down his jeans.

“You can’t wear fishnets with legs like yours.”

“What do you mean? That I’m too tall?” He seemed worried.

“Hairy,” I told him. “We have to shave you.”

I watched, excited, as his cock grew harder beneath his pink boxers.

“Let me take care of you,” I instructed, and he appeared more than happy to let me. We went into the bathroom together. I ignored his menthol scented shaving cream in favor of my own more feminine one. The brand I use comes in a lilac can and smells like jasmine. I had Douglas sit on the edge of our tub, and I spread the shaving cream carefully up his legs. The foam felt like puffed air in my hands. Douglas watched intently as I reached for a fresh plastic razor from the drawer beneath the sink, and then began to whisk away his blond hair. He’s not overly furry. But I wanted him to really feel girlie when I finally slid those thigh highs into place.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” he said softly as I shaved his legs.

“Why not?”

“Because this is everything I’ve ever thought about while I’ve . . . ”

His voice trailed off.

“Touched yourself?” I asked, and I took a moment to rinse my fingers and stroke his cock through his boxers. I liked that I had made the front wet with my hand, and I got more water on my palm and then wet them more seriously so I could really see the outline of his hard cock through the material. Douglas groaned, and then sucked in his breath, waiting. He seemed willing to let me take charge of our entire encounter.

“But this isn’t the only thing you’ve thought about, I’m guessing,” I said, admiring how hard his dick was as I rinsed off the remainder of the shaving cream. Doug has the most beautiful legs. I knew he was lean and taut, but I’d never really noticed before how elegant his legs really were. I helped him dry off with one of our fluffy towels, and then I brought him into the bedroom. He’d been wearing a t shirt and boxers. I’d wanted him entirely nude before he tried on the stockings. That was my plan, anyway. But as soon as he took off his shirt, I couldn’t hold back. I started to kiss him, stroking my hands along his smooth legs, bobbing my head so I could tease his cock through the fabric of his boxers with my tongue.

“We need to get you into something else,” I said.

“What do you mean?” His voice was hoarse.

“Knickers, panties, underwear.” I could hardly speak. I was suddenly consumed by the desire to see him in a pair of women’s panties. I wanted to kiss him through the fabric, tease his sweet cock through something satiny and pretty. But how could I? We’re not exactly the same size, Douglas and I. What would fit my lower region wouldn’t come even close to covering his. That was my worry, but Douglas eased my mind.

“You want me in a pair of ladies’ underwear?”

I nodded.

“Hold that thought.” He practically sprinted to the dresser. I stared, slightly bewildered, as he pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser and reached into a blur of color. In seconds, he was wearing the prettiest pair of cobalt satin panties I’d ever seen. They were snug on his sweet asscheeks, fitting him perfectly.

I was right, I thought to myself. This wasn’t Douglas’s first time at the tranny rodeo. I wondered what else he might have stashed in that drawer. A negligee? A full length slip? Stockings in a larger size? No time to consider that at the moment, though. I wanted access to his body, and I wanted it now. I stalked forward and he stepped back, until he was pressed against the wall. I felt so tough as I began to manhandle him through those satiny undies. I don’t know precisely what brought out this side of myself, but I liked it. I stroked his cock through the sleek fabric, and Doug leaned back against the wall and moaned. The sound was animalistic and guttural. I felt as if the two of us were already joined. My pussy responded fiercely each time he released a helpless sound.

“You like wearing girlie things?” I asked him.

“Yes, Melissa.”

“You like wearing my things?”

He hesitated, but I didn’t stop touching him. In fact, now I thrust one hand inside his panties to really work his cock. He felt so good, hot and big and warm in my fist.

“Your silk dressing gown,” he whimpered. “The one from China. I wear that sometimes when you’re not home from work yet.”

Good choice, I thought to myself. I said aloud: “You like the way the silk feels on your skin?”

He nodded.

“Go put it on.”

I waited while Douglas went to my closet and reached for the scarlet silk robe. I realized that I was making a damp spot in my own panties. This was the most turned on I’d been in weeks months, maybe. I watched as he slipped on the silk. I knew exactly how that felt. I wear the robe every day. The fabric is so slippery and silky soft, you can’t help but feel like a movie star when you wear it.

Or in this case, a porn star. Douglas looked as ready to fuck as anyone I’d ever seen, but I managed to hold him off another moment. “Wait,” I said. “You need a little more help.”

“Help?”

“The stockings.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and I gathered the fabric of the first one in my hand. I watched as he arched his foot for me, and I gently slid the fishnets up and over his toes. He was entirely silent as I pulled them on for him. First the right, then the left. Was he holding his breath? I think I was. I put on stockings nearly ever day, and I’ve never paid such careful attention to the details. The netting was like gossamer in my hands so light, so delicate. I made sure that the diamonds were the right size on his legs, not overly stretched out. I worked so carefully, adjusting the hose as I moved up over his knees, and I was impressed with what a good job I’d done with the shaving. His skin was smooth, and he didn’t have any stray hairs left at all. The fishnets looked glamorous and gorgeous on his legs. I couldn’t help but kiss the tops of his thighs where the stockings ended and his naked skin began. But even when I did that, I had to palm his fishnet clad legs, so that I could really feel the stockings beneath my hands. Oh, I was turned on. Who knew that what was a secret for him would turn out to be an unknown hot spot for me? Call it luck, call it kismet, call it a hot guy in stockings whatever the reason, I was revved up and ready to go.

“Let me see,” I said. I was desperate, but I still wanted to drink in the vision of my transformed man except something was still missing.

I grabbed a scarf from my dresser and wrapped the colorful chiffon around his short hair. He was starting to look more female by the second. Then I whisked out one of my tubes of lip gloss a shimmery gold hue and colored his lips. What else? My mind was racing. I caught a glimpse of the cover of one of my favorite fashion magazines, and that gave me a final idea. I pulled out one of my necklaces and fastened the clasp behind Douglas’s neck. He remained meek and patient through this whole time. He seemed perfectly willing for me to dress him up anyway I desired.

I could have spent more time on the makeup, but I couldn’t hold off any longer. Usually, this is when I would have waited for Doug to kiss me. Now, I kissed him. I mean, I really kissed him, my mouth on his, my hands working up and down the silky sleeves of the robe.

Then I untied the belt and let the robe fall open. I got my hand against the gusset of those satin panties, working his cock once more through the fabric.

We made out like that until I felt he was ready to explode, and then I went on my knees and started to kiss him there through the knickers. I kissed up and down the bulge of his dick, and then I pulled the panties down just far enough to reveal the head of his cock. He was so excited I could taste the pre come as I worked his head between my lips.

Doug ruffled his fingers through my hair as I blew him, and I thought of all the ways we might play in the future. I could do a complete transformation put him in a dress. Paint his nails. Do his makeup. The swirl of the robe’s silk fabric moved around me as Doug arched his back. He wanted me to take the panties off and suck him. But I hesitated, instead licking his balls through the satiny fabric. Oh, did he like that. He groaned and whispered my name. I turned him around, so he was facing the wall, and I stood and reached my hand in front of him, stroking his satin covered cock while grinding my hips against him.

“You like this,” I told him.

“Yes.”

“You like wearing my makeup and my jewelry, dressing in my robe and stockings.”

“Oh, God yes,” he whispered.

“I’m going to dress you up all the way,” I told him, the idea solidifying for me as I spoke the words. “I’m going to get you in a dress and full makeup, and you and I are going to go out dancing.”

He pressed back against me, so his ass was flush with my pussy and we were grinding dancing already, but without any music. I was so close to coming that I could hardly speak, but somehow I managed. I pulled his panties down so his cock was all the way out, and I spit on my hand to give him a little lube, and then started stroking him once more.

“And then,” I told him, speaking in an undertone, but loud enough that I knew he could hear every word. “Then I’m going to get a strap on, and I’m going to fuck you.”

He climaxed at my words, shooting his come on the wall and on my hand, and I felt the shudder work through his body and into mine. He was done. At least, for the moment, but I had only just started.

As he turned around to face me, heat coloring his cheeks a pale rose, I realized that I’d never seen this facet of Douglas before. More than that, I had never felt this side of myself. He was disheveled, but so fucking hot. And I hadn’t come yet. Yes, I was fulfilling his fantasy. Now, all I needed was a magic wand.

Luckily, Douglas came equipped with one. Right between his legs. I bent down and licked the last few drops of come off his cock.

“Go get cleaned up,” I told him, “Then come back to bed. I need to have you inside me.”

He started to pull off the robe, but I wouldn’t let him. “I want you to fuck me while you’re dressed in the silk,” I told him. The smile on his face made me feel warm all over. Especially, where it counted my clit practically throbbed.

Douglas went into the bathroom. I heard the sound of water running. He came back a moment later, without the underpants, and he lifted me up and placed me in the center of the bed. Doug had on stockings, but he was still all man. He climbed onto the bed with me, and I saw to my great delight that his cock was hard again.

“You’re going to fuck me?” he asked. “With a strap on?” His voice was raw. I saw how turned on he was, and I nodded.

“So we’re going to take turns fucking each other?”

I nodded again.

“Now’s my turn,” he said. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled me flat and pressed the head of his cock right against my clit. He didn’t drive in at first he started teasing my clit. I thought I was going to get off from that alone. The friction, the sweet pressure, and the fact that Douglas’s legs were still encased in the fishnets turned me on more than I could imagine. The silk robe was swirled around us as he fucked my clit all the sensations worked together to take me higher and higher.

“Jesus, that feels good,” I told him.

“I know. You’re so fucking wet. Dressing me up like a girl makes you as wet as it makes me hard. Why is that?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know.

“Sometimes, when you’re not here, I read your fashion magazines,” he told me. “I know a lot of men do that. To jerk off. But I jerk off to thinking about being dressed like the girls in the pictures.”

That was such a sexy confession I could think of no way to respond. I loved the image of him doing this. Why had we never discussed his fantasies before?

“And sometimes I go through your closet and see if any of your clothes will fit me. None do, so I take my favorites, and I hold them up to myself in the mirror and imagine what I would look like.”

“We’ll find you clothes that fit,” I promised him as he finally slid the head of his cock into my pussy. Holy fuck, that felt good. I guess because I’d been teetering on the brink for so long the first sensation of his cock inside me felt as amazing as being fucked by Douglas for the first time. But in a way, this was a first time. We’d never done it when Doug was dressed in drag before. He still had on a smear of the gold glimmered lip gloss. His hair was still off his face, wrapped in the colorful chiffon. He was Douglas but Douglas transformed and I loved it.

Especially because he fucked me just as hard as Douglas always fucks me. He gripped my hips and began to slam his body against mine, and I was cooing under my breath, feeling the energy between us intensify with every thrust of his cock, every clench of my pussy.

“You really want to take me out?” he murmured.

“Oh, yes,” I told him, running my fingertips up his muscled arms through the big silk sleeves of the robe. “I want to put you in something lovely. We’ll find you the right size heels. We’ll get you the perfect undergarments.”

He closed his eyes then, and I could guess that he was imagining what I was describing. “We’ll go out,” I told him, “and everyone will see you dressed so pretty.” He groaned. He wanted everyone to see him I could tell. “And then when we come back, I’ll put on a strap on and fuck you while you’re all dressed up.”

He looked into my eyes, and I saw the expression on his face change. I knew he was about to shoot, but in that caring way of his, he reached between us to pinch my clit, helping me climax with him. He tricked his fingertips over my button, knowing exactly how I like to be touched. He thrust his cock inside me, so I was filled to perfection, and then he began to move quickly, his hips banging against mine as he took us over the edge.

Neither of us talked while we came. We couldn’t. The pleasure was too overwhelming, the sensation too real. The way Douglas looked was so sexy, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted, a shiny bit of gloss remaining. He was all man, but with a pretty, glimmery twist.

Afterward, Doug held me in his arms and said, “So those were my tranny wheels?”

“Yes,” I told him, snuggling against his chest.

“I think I’m ready for a ten speed.”

I leaned up and kissed him, thinking that he was probably right.

There is no sexier feeling than that of running your fingers through a drawer full of silky panties. I was running my fingers through mine, trying to decide between a high cut black bikini and baby blue tap pants, when Kelly called to me. “You’d better get a move on, Henry!” she yelled from the first floor of our suburban split level. “Or we’re going to be late for dinner.”

I settled on the bikini because I had a beautiful bra that matched and because I loved the way those particular panties hugged my erection. My dick was bound to be hard dressing in women’s clothing always gets me so excited that my erection is difficult to control. And since we would be out in public and I didn’t want my bulge to be noticeable, I also picked out a girdle that would keep me reined in.

It might seem like my wife was being unnecessarily impatient, but I’d already been getting ready for hours. As soon as I’d gotten home from work, I’d drawn a hot bath, adding lemon verbena oil to the water to both relax me and ensure that I smelled good. As I soaked, I plucked my eyebrows, aided by the steam that opened my pores. I could skip shaving though I’m a fairly regular cross dresser, so I’d been getting laser hair removal for years so my skin would be silky smooth and feminine.

Once I was out of the tub, I rubbed lotion, also lemon verbena scented, all over my arms, legs and chest. My nipples perked up as my fingers brushed them, and my dick swelled at the thought of them being covered with my foam breast forms. But that was yet to come for now, I slipped on my kimono and took a seat at my vanity.

I am a pro at applying makeup, having realized early on that if I was going to be a man who wore lipstick and eye shadow, I needed to get it right. Starting with foundation, I gently rubbed the beige colored liquid onto my forehead and cheeks, and then I applied a little concealer under my eyes and around my nostrils. All of that was covered with powder, because while I was hoping to glow that night, there’s nothing cool about being shiny.

Once I had a good base, I started the real metamorphosis, the one that would transform me from Henry, suburban husband, to Hermione, sophisticated lady. After dabbing a small brush into a tub of plum colored powder, I swiped it across my eyelids, loving how it brought out the green in my eyes. Next I curled my lashes and brushed on mascara, followed by black eyeliner to give my eyes an almond shape. Then I applied some blush to accentuate my cheekbones, followed by a shimmery, pink lip gloss.

I took a moment to regard my work and was extremely pleased with what I saw. I knew that once I was dressed and wearing my wig, I could pass as a woman. That’s when I headed to my walk in closet and began rifling through my drawers. I knew exactly what I was going to wear because it was all I’d thought about for days, so once I’d picked out my underthings, the rest went quickly. First on was a pair of thigh high stockings that attached to the garters hanging from my girdle, and then a red spandex minidress that hugged my enhanced curves. Finally, I slipped on patent leather stilettos, thankful as always, that I was short enough that I could get away with four inch heels.

“C’mon!” Kelly shouted again impatiently, but since you can’t rush beauty, I took my time making sure my wig was just right. Then, after one last look in the mirror, I joined her in the foyer, where she was waiting with her car keys already in her hand. I was afraid that she’d be mad because I’d kept her waiting, but instead, she smiled when she saw me and said, “You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” I replied, and I meant it. She had on tight black pants and a white silk blouse that revealed her lacy bra. In heels, she was almost as tall as I was, and I knew that we would make more than a few heads turn at the fancy restaurant where we had reservations for Hermione’s big night out.

However, we never made it to the restaurant. We got as far as the car, where Kelly leaned in to kiss me after we’d taken our seats. At first, I was worried about smearing my lipstick, but then I started kissing her back as my hand made its way to one of her breasts. I strummed her hardened nipple through her blouse as her fingers landed in my lap, kneading my bulge, which made my burgeoning cock even stiffer. We hadn’t even pulled out of the driveway and I was already panting into my wife’s half opened mouth, my tongue wrestling with hers.

Eventually, Kelly pulled her lips from mine, though her fingers remained busy at my cock, working it through my dress. As she jerked me against my nylon panties, I lowered my head to her neck, nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear and breathing in her perfume. “We’re going to lose our reservation,” she murmured and then gasped when I gave her sensitive nipple a little twist. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, and I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was also rethinking leaving the driveway.

“Only for you,” I replied, so aroused that I was willing to forgo both our special evening and the thrill of a night out as Hermione. I figured we could get a drink or something later now all I wanted was to fuck my wife. And so, without even starting the ignition, we got out of the car and went back inside. Once again, we were in the foyer, but now I had her backed against the table where we usually drop our mail. Unopened envelopes fell to the floor as I kissed her hard, and the table knocked against the wall behind it as I ground my erection against her.

My cock, encased in the tight panties, was aching for release, and I could feel sticky pre come seeping from the slit in my crown into the crotch’s cotton panel. Certain that Kelly’s panties were also sodden, my mouth watered for a taste of her tangy juices. Since there’s a rug in our entryway, I felt comfortable dropping to my knees without snagging my delicate stockings I unbuttoned Kelly’s trousers and worked them over her hips as she held on to my shoulders for support.

I breathed in the musky fragrance of her pussy as I peeled her underwear from her mound. She moaned at feeling the warm exhalation of my breath on her damp flesh, so I knew that what I was about to do next would elicit an even greater demonstration of pleasure. As soon as her panties were at her ankles and pulled off over one foot, I placed my hands on her pelvis and spread her lust swollen labia with my thumbs.

My cock throbbed in my panties as I regarded her pussy. Her clitoris was swollen, and I was tempted to go right in for the attack. Instead I stuck out my tongue and dragged it slowly over her slit, circumventing her rigid button and only flicking at her slick inner lips. When she started trembling I increased my pace, lapping at her slippery pink flesh as I swallowed the juices that poured ceaselessly into my mouth.

Remember what I said earlier about nothing being hotter than a drawer full of panties? Well, that doesn’t include eating my wife’s cunt, which always gets me so aroused that my cock nearly bursts. Needing some relief, I kept Kelly’s nether lips parted with one hand as I reached down with the other, and I continued lapping at her pussy as I pushed up my dress and spread my thighs. Running my fingers over my denuded thigh and ribbon like garter, I made my way beneath my girdle to my crotch. My dick twitched when my fingers reached my panties, and then it started pulsing as I rubbed it through the gossamer material.

For now I was happy to stroke myself as I pleasured my wife with my mouth. She was moaning loudly above me, and her fingers clutched my shoulders as her hips bucked. Her reaction was fitting, since I’d wrapped my lips around her sensitive button and was sucking it hungrily. I’d also stiffened two digits and was plunging them into her hole, which contracted each time I was buried to my knuckle. I paid careful attention to each of her sighs and every one of her movements. They clued me in, letting me know when I should work her harder or softer.

Kelly kneaded my shoulders as I thoroughly finger fucked her and my lips and tongue worked her button. Soon, she was bucking and writhing, and my hips were moving rhythmically as I massaged my sac through my panties. When that was no longer enough, I reached into the elasticized opening around one leg to give my shaft a few hard pumps. However, I quickly stopped that because I was already on the verge of shooting. I was further along than I’d figured, and my plan for my load didn’t include soaking my feminine undergarments.

On the subject of orgasms, my wife was now in the throes of the evening’s first, compliments of my mouth and fingers. I pumped into her harder and faster as my tongue buzz sawed her fleshy nubbin until she was shaking so hard that she had trouble holding on to me. Her hands were flailing, grasping madly for my shoulders, the table or whatever she could grab for support, and I have to give her credit that even in her moment of wild abandon, she was careful not to knock off my wig. It’s important to me to stay in character, and one of the many things I love about her is the lengths to which she’ll go to see to this.

Kelly’s juices streamed down my chin as I continued eating her pussy, and all the orgasmic noises that she made the little yelps and squeals were music to my ears. With one hand, I held on to her as tightly as I could, while the other remained buried beneath layers of panty and girdle, wrapped around my own cock. By then, I was working so hard to keep my wife coming that sweat was dripping from my temples and no doubt leaving tracks in my carefully applied foundation.

When Kelly’s pussy became too sensitive, she pushed my face away. Afterward, she just stood there, panting, and from my position kneeling in front of her, I could watch the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts as she struggled to catch her breath. Eventually, she dropped down to her knees, joining me on the rug. I was going to suggest that we head to the bedroom, but I wasn’t given the chance. Kelly and I were face to face, and she took my head in her hands and pressed her lips to mine.

Pulling my hand from my panties, I wrapped my arms around my wife’s waist and took hold of her asscheeks. Then I opened my mouth and she slipped her tongue inside. For the next few moments we just kissed, long and hard and deep, and I knew that she could taste herself on my tongue as she sucked it hungrily. She was grinding her cunt against my erection, and I guessed it wouldn’t be long before she’d be ready for her second climax. That thrilled me, because I was more than ready for my first.

As she hugged me, Kelly could feel how hard my cock was even through all my layers of clothing. She pulled back from me and then took off her blouse and bra, and the sight of her bared tits made me almost shoot in my panties. Instead, I closed my eyes and lowered my head to suck her erect nipple, and as I did, she tugged my dress up over my hips and urged me to lay on the rug.

Next, my mischievous wife nudged down my girdle and underwear, and my cock sprang right into her hand. She wrapped her fingers around my girth to give it a good squeeze, and I was so primed that my ass raised itself off the rug in an attempt to fuck her fist. Almost anything would have made me come by then, and though a handjob would have felt lovely, I had other plans. Still, she had me rendered immobile for the next few minutes, and I lay there on the floor, my body undulating slightly, mimicking the motions of sex as Kelly massaged my throbbing rod.

I came to my senses after a few minutes, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before I erupted. I wanted to be in my wife’s cunt when that happened, so as she jerked me off, I reached out to insert a finger between her nether lips. She was still soaking wet, so I easily slipped up and down her slit a few times before I zeroed in on her clit. Her eyes rolled back as soon as I pressed against it, and then she shuddered as I triggered a series of orgasmic aftershocks. Finally, without saying anything, she pulled herself away from my hand, grasped my dick at the root to hold my shaft steady and threw one leg clear across my body.

First, my crown merely brushed against her moist sex, and even just that hint of contact was intense. My tumescent knob pulsed with anticipation as she positioned it at her opening, anticipating the fun that was sure to follow. Kelly always tightens up when she comes, and since I’d just triggered an orgasm, she was almost impenetrable. It took a few tries before she could wedge the tip inside, but as soon as she was successful, she held still, and let me stretch her open. I moaned with pleasure at her snugness and pressed upward until my cock was completely buried in her cunt.

Kelly was leaning over me with her hands planted on the floor and her tits swaying gently above me. Then she held still as I put both of my hands on her thighs and raised my hips to continue penetrating her. It took some effort on my part, but slowly I stretched her wide, impaling her on my length. She gasped loudly as I filled her, and I breathed more heavily as her heat enveloped my dick. Soon, there was about four inches of space between my ass and the rug I was lying on, and my pelvis was finally flush with hers.

Now that I was fully inside her snug cunt, Kelly closed her thighs against my sides to create an even tighter fit. It felt so good, and then my mind flashed to the panties and girdle banded at my thighs, reminding that I was dressed like a real woman. My hips began undulating wildly at that thought, moving of their own accord, and the motion of my stiff cock in my wife’s pussy made me start writhing as well. Our actions were completely in sync, with Kelly grinding on top of me as I raised and dropped my ass to slide in and out of her.

Her pussy was still sopping wet, making it extremely easy for me to pump into it despite its tightness. Those elements, when put together, make for an amazing fuck, and I gripped my wife’s thighs as I increased the pace of my driving dick. My asscheeks chafed against the rug as I stroked in and out of Kelly’s slippery hole, and my balls bounced with each inward thrust. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I reached my climax, but what I didn’t know was if Kelly would be joining me for her third.

With the way our bodies were moving together so perfectly, I found it hard to believe that this wouldn’t end in mutual orgasm. A few seconds later, my theory was proved correct. Kelly started trembling again, so I increased my efforts, until I was flying in and out of her cunt. Then my balls drew in tight when her canal contracted around my pulsating shaft. With a shout, I exploded into her, and she followed soon afterward, giving a loud squeal as her body was wracked by a series of almost violent tremors.

We had obviously missed our reservation, so as we lay there on the entryway rug, we discussed going to a bar or a club so that Hermione could have some fun. However, we were both so spent that we never even made it to the door this time. That was fine by me I was happy to be spending an evening with Kelly while wearing women’s clothing. Having decided on an evening in, we retired to the bedroom where I fixed my wig and makeup before changing into a diaphanous pink negligee. I left my bra on so that my breasts would fill the front of the queen size nightie, but I took off my panties, girdle and stockings. I wanted my cock to be free so I would be treated to the heavenly feeling of the filmy material brushing against it.

I got into bed with Kelly, who was dressed similarly. Her black negligee looked striking against her creamy white skin, and seeing her nipples poking against the sleek fabric got my cock stirring. I was hard again before I knew it, and there was no hiding the erection tenting my nylon garment at least not from my wife’s roaming fingers. Gently, she stroked my erection through the negligee, until a spot of pre come seeped through the front.

I grinned sheepishly as the damp patch spread, though it was as much from the excitement of knowing that I was clearly going to achieve multiple orgasms that night, like a real woman would. Then Kelly tickled the sensitive underside of my penis, making my dick longer and harder. Kelly reacted to my growth spurt by wrapping her fingers around my shaft and pumping it vigorously.

With one hand moving up and down along my dick, she brought her other hand to her mouth, sucked on a finger to wet it, and then reached into her negligee. It was like the inverse of how we’d started in the foyer, and I watched excitedly as she stroked herself in the same rhythm that she was using to jerk me off. As she masturbated us both, the sound of panting filled the room, and when I looked up at her beautiful face, I saw that her eyes were glossed with lust. I know that my cross dressing is as exciting for her as it is for me, but to see it expressed so clearly aroused me like nothing else. Her body soon started to quake from the pressure of her fingertips on her own clit, and the scent of her sex permeated the air as she announced her climax with a loud wail.

All I could do for the next few minutes was watch her, but then between labored breaths, she implored, “Come with me, honey. C’mon, be a good girl and come.” My back arched upon hearing her words, and her grip on my prick tightened. She held still as I fucked her fist, my ass rising and falling on the mattress as I stabbed upward, driving myself toward my peak. Then I looked down and saw the rise and fall of my tits, and that coupled with the silky brush of nylon on my ready to explode dick, was more than I could handle. It was a moment filled with nearly overwhelming pleasure.

Kelly started jerking me again, this time harder. A moment later, I was shooting up into the air and drenching her hand with my load. Her fingers were soon coated with my sticky release, which also soaked my negligee. In rather unladylike fashion, the come stained garment didn’t bother me. In fact, I was pleased, because it meant that I got to change into my third feminine ensemble of the evening!

I ended up in the blue tap pants I’d contemplated earlier and a matching baby doll top. My makeup had long since worn off, but I still felt like a pretty lady as I lay there nestled in Kelly’s arms as she told me what a good girl I was. And although Hermione might not have gotten her night out on the town, I wasn’t disappointed because it was only Friday, which left the rest of the weekend for her to do her thing and I knew she would!

My lingerie collection could rival any diva’s the difference is that I’m a guy! Ever since I brushed up against my college girlfriend’s silky negligee and my dick got hard, I’ve known that lingerie turns me on. She was on the conservative side, so I never told her that I liked to wear women’s underthings, though I did encourage her to wear her sexiest pieces to bed and keep them on during sex. I’d wind up touching her lacy bras and rubbing my fingers against the sleek, colorful panties she wore, and she was never the wiser that what was truly turning me on was feeling what was on her!

I never actually wound up dating a woman with whom I could share my secret fetish, but that didn’t stop me from amassing a special collection of intimate finery. Every time I get a raise or even if I just need a pick me up, I buy some lingerie. Sometimes I’ll shop in a store, offering up the “gift for a girlfriend” excuse, or I’ll go online. I like that I have a little part of my life that’s only for me, and I think it keeps the relationships I do have interesting, though I’m always hoping I’ll find a woman I can share my interests with.

In the meantime, when I get home from work, I take off all my clothes and pull out something from the drawer. Even the act of reaching into the pile of silky offerings turns me on. Part of it is the taboo aspect of it, the fact that I’m a man and these clothes aren’t meant for me. It’s also the feel of the fabrics, the way they rub against me, and the way they look. Having my dick trapped in the snug embrace of a pair of pink silk panties feels like nothing else.

I will get dressed in my lingerie of choice and then check myself out in a full length mirror. I don’t have a lot of shoes, but sometimes I’ll slip into a pair of sexy high heels. They make me feel extra glamorous. I like to imagine myself as a model strutting down a catwalk. If I’d been born a woman, I think that’s what I’d have wanted to do with my life.

One of my favorite pieces of clothing is something I had specially made to fit me. Even though I’m not exactly built like a linebacker, my chest and shoulders are fairly broad. I found a woman who discreetly makes custom lingerie for cross dressers and trannies, and for her, no request is too outrageous. Her web site displays lingerie samples in every color of the rainbow. I was picturing which items would look best on me, when I saw the one I needed to own: a long nightgown in bright pink that could be customize made for my height and size, with a padded bra that would give me womanly curves up top.

I sent the woman my measurements, and she quickly replied via e mail: “Beautiful choice for your figure. I can even make you a pair of panties to match.” I was sold. I had to jerk off as soon as I finalized my order I was that excited.

In the meantime, I put on my favorite item: a cute red and black nightie with ruffled trim and matching ruffled panties. I watched my hard cock grow even more so, the tip rising above the top of the waistband. I didn’t mind, because I’m not trying to pretend I don’t have a cock it brings me too much pleasure. I like being a guy with a big dick who isn’t afraid to enjoy the sensual delights lingerie can offer.

The only downside to being so aroused by my lingerie is that it often gets wet with my pre come, and sometimes I am so excited that I can’t control my orgasms. I don’t mind, though, but I like to draw out the process if I’m able.

I posed in front of the mirror as I toyed with the nightie, lifting up its edges to reveal the bulge in my panties. Even though I don’t think I could actually show off my girlie side to anyone else, I fantasize about posing for a magazine like Variations.

I rubbed the sexy fabric against my skin, enjoying how it felt against my stiff cock. That only lasted a few minutes, though, because I needed to jerk off. I wrapped my hand around the top of my dick and tugged, making my balls shift within the panties. I used the pressure of the waistband to intensify the sensations.

Eventually I had to shut my eyes and focus on the feeling of my dick in my hand, the panties clinging to my thighs, and the nightie fluttering around me. I was soon shooting a load into my hand, some of it dripping out and wetting my lingerie. I didn’t really mind, though, because hand washing my undies is a fun kind of chore for me.

That night I had some sexy dreams that involved me dressed in a long yellow nightgown while I served tea to a glamorous older woman. In real life, I’ve mostly dated younger women, but something tells me that older women cougars, if you will would be more accepting of a man like me.

The next day I dared to do something I’d never done before: wear a pair of silk panties underneath my designer suit. Yes, I was the only one who knew, but it made my workday a lot more exciting. It pleased me so much that I decided to do it every day going forward.

A few days later, my special package arrived. I tore it open as soon as I was in my apartment. The gown was soft and beautiful. I stripped out of my suit and slipped the creation over my head. The slick fabric fluttered down my body, the hemline landing near my knees. When I stepped before the mirror, I was awed by how it made me look and how it made me feel. The padding up top gave me the appearance of boobs, probably A cups, and the color looked good against my pale skin. My cock instantly began to swell.

I headed into my bedroom, feeling the gown graze my throbbing erection with each step. I felt like I was ready to shoot, and I hadn’t even tried on the pretty panties yet!

My cock was fully erect by the time I sat down on my bed. Facing the mirror at my vanity, I hiked up the nightgown and began to stroke my shaft. I kept my eyes locked on my masculine frame, all decked out in a slinky negligee. I soon came, catching my load in my hand. I quickly washed up and then slipped into bed, happily spending the entire night in the sleek embrace of my new lingerie.

I plan to explore more of my cross dressing self in public and private, and if I do meet my dream woman, the kind who’ll dress up with me, I’ll be sure to write to you again!

Mr. Jeremy A., Houston, Texas

Danielle likes to play dress up whenever we get together, but she never gets dolled up herself it’s always me she dresses. I’ve been cross dressing since college, but none of my girlfriends have ever been as accepting of my hobby as Danielle. While some of them let me dress up around them, no one has ever taken as much pleasure in my cross dressing as my current girlfriend.

When she was over last week, she decided that we should switch roles. She was going to make me up like a woman, and she was going to dress like a man. “Someone has to wear the pants in this relationship,” she insisted with a laugh. It wasn’t going to be a traditional date by any means, but it sounded like something we could both enjoy, and I was intrigued by the idea of dressing my very feminine girlfriend in a suit and tie.

Danielle had come prepared for the game with a suitcase full of clothing and accessories. She’d found a men’s suit that was small enough to fit her without giving up its masculine shape, and she’d even bought boxers and an undershirt to complete the look. She’d also found an outfit for me. She’d picked out a kimono wrap dress that would give the illusion that I had curves underneath, and a pair of suede, open toed heels plus some new lingerie. I couldn’t wait to put it all on!

Before we could start dressing, Danielle insisted on a shower. I’d already shaved and exfoliated that morning, knowing she was coming over, so I had a feeling she wasn’t worried about prepping me for my dress. When she stripped me down and pulled me into the shower, my suspicions were confirmed. She lathered a washcloth with soap and started to caress me with it, but I could tell she wasn’t as interested in getting me clean as she was in getting down and dirty. She started stroking my cock with the sudsy cloth, and it didn’t take long for her to get me hard. Eventually I took the washcloth from her and started rubbing it down her back and over her breasts, trying to get her as aroused as I was.

Within five minutes I was fucking her against the tiled wall, holding her right leg up while I thrust into her. Our bodies slid against each other, and I loved the feel of her soft, soapy tits gliding over my chest. It was one of the hottest sensations I’d ever experienced, and I pushed her more firmly against the wall so I could really pump into her. I was so turned on that it didn’t take much more effort before I shot off inside her.

Danielle didn’t come with me, but she didn’t seem to mind. She let me finish up and then pushed me away so we could finish our shower.

After we finished washing up and had dried off, Danielle set to work on getting me ready for the second half of our date. She didn’t let me do anything to help all I could do was sit back and let her pamper me. She slathered me with lotion, rubbing it in until it was completely absorbed. She did the same with moisturizer on my face, and special cream for my eyes. Then it was time for the makeup, my favorite part.

As much as I love dressing up, I love the makeup even more. A good dress and a pair of heels can do wonders for my figure, but I think that “putting on my face” is what really transforms me. Danielle is even better at putting on makeup than I am for obvious reasons and I was excited to have her make me over. I closed my eyes and let her work. She was quick and careful, and I felt her fingers apply the foundation before I felt all kinds of brushes caress my face as she put on my eye shadow and rouge. I had no way of knowing what I’d look like when she was done with me, but I knew I didn’t have to worry with Danielle in charge.

She was finished sooner than I would’ve been, and the last thing I felt before she let me look in the mirror was her pulling one of my wigs into place. When I opened my eyes to take in the finished look, I was blown away with what Danielle had done in such a short time. My skin looked like porcelain, and though I could tell I was wearing makeup, I didn’t look over the top like a drag queen or anything. And my hair! There was really nothing spectacular about it, to be honest, but it was gorgeous in its simplicity, and it was much more elegant than my usual bed head look.

Danielle didn’t stop there. She led me back into the bedroom and helped me step into my panties, pulling them up my legs and trailing her soft fingers along my skin as she did so. I felt my dick getting hard again, and I wondered if she’d bought me a spare pair of undies in case I ruined the first pair. I didn’t know if I could handle all the attention she was giving me without shooting off again.

Before I could think too much about my panty situation, Danielle wrapped her fist tightly around the base of my cock, effectively putting an end to my worries. She looked up into my eyes and smirked as she pulled the underwear the rest of the way up, my cock now covered by the thin material. “There will be time for that later,” she assured me, patting my dick. Then she simply grabbed my bra from the bed and continued to dress me.

She slid the bra straps up my arms and hooked it in place behind my back before picking up the dress and helping me slide my arms into the wide sleeves. She wrapped the front panels around my waist and tied it shut before cinching it with a wide leather belt.

Danielle was naked the entire time she dressed me, but I was so focused on my own wardrobe that I barely noticed hers. It wasn’t until she helped me slip my feet into my new heels that I remembered she was going to dress up, too. She directed me to sit in my reading chair in the corner of my bedroom and then started to do the sexiest reverse striptease I’d ever witnessed.

She stepped into her boxers, wiggling her hips as she pulled them up, and then she pulled the fitted undershirt over her A cup breasts, flattening them the slightest bit. I’d never really watched Danielle get dressed, and seeing her putting on her boxers and suit was much more arousing than I’d anticipated. As she pulled her crisp black slacks up her legs, I felt my cock getting hard, and as she tucked in her white button down shirt I knew I’d have to fuck her one more time before we left on our date.

Somehow Danielle managed to get her jacket, tie and loafers on before I finally pushed myself out of my chair and grabbed her. I pulled her close and kissed her hard, smearing my lipstick. I thought she’d be mad that I was messing up our outfits and my makeup with my sudden display of passion, but she only pulled me closer and worked her hands under my dress to pull down my panties. Meanwhile, I worked her shirt out of her waistband and unzipped her fly, thankful she’d bought men’s boxers so I didn’t have to try to get her pants all the way off. I tugged her pants down enough to bare her boxers and pushed my hand through the opening at the front.

I pushed a finger into her through the fly in her shorts and felt her dripping wet pussy envelop my digit. I stroked her pussy a few times before she pulled away from me and lay back on the bed, beckoning me to follow her. I quickly climbed onto the bed and lay above her, pushing my dress out of the way and easing my cock into her cunt through the fly of her shorts. There was still a lot of clothing to get in the way of wandering hands and mouths, but it didn’t interfere with the fucking, and I pumped into her quickly, forgetting about being a woman for a few minutes.

We were both so hot that it didn’t take more than a couple minutes to get us both off, and we came within seconds of each other. Afterward, Danielle helped me straighten my hair and makeup and put my dress back in place, and I helped her glue on a fake mustache and sideburns. We’d planned to go out to dinner, but we were afraid another urge to fuck would hit, so we ordered in instead. Good thing, too, because halfway through the meal Danielle crawled under the table to suck my cock.

Now that we’ve figured out which of us wears the pants, we’re going to try to actually leave the house next time we swap roles. Even if we don’t, though, I’ll be satisfied. As long as I get to strut my stuff for my girlfriend or should I say boyfriend I’m happy.

Mr. Craig W., San Diego, California

“Hey, what does your shirt say?” I called out.

The dark haired man turned to gaze my way. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“Your shirt,” I leaned over the counter to get a better look. On his t shirt was my last name written in decorated letters. I always knew I had a familiar surname if you live in the U.K. There it was on his shirt, advertising a pub.

“Can I buy it off you?” I asked him. “That’s my last name.”

He looked me over, more interested than he’d appeared before. “You want to buy the shirt off my back?”

Oh, his accent was so sexy. I hadn’t noticed at first because I’d been too involved in the t shirt. The way he said the words put sex in my head, but not words in my mouth. I started stammering, especially when he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed the tee to me. I caught the soft cotton and almost brought the shirt to my face to breathe in his scent, but I remembered where I was: standing behind the counter at the store I own. I needed to look professional, didn’t I? Or at least, pretend to be. I went to the register to get him some cash.

“I can’t wear cash,” he said.

“That’s right,” I nodded, admiring his broad chest, his flat belly. “What about a trade? You could choose any shirt off the racks.” I motioned to the array of colorful clothing around the store.

“How about the shirt off your back?” he asked.

“This one?” I didn’t understand. I was wearing my favorite silk blouse, the color of the sky at sunset, that pink that streaks the clouds. The man in front of me had to be six foot four with wide shoulders and muscles that told a story of hitting the gym daily. I had known his shirt would fit me like a nightgown. My shirt would fit him like a hand puppet.

He came behind the counter. “Do you have to stay open?” he asked. “It’s pretty close to six.”

That accent. He could have said anything, and I would have swooned. “Turn the sign,” he said, and I rushed to obey, then locked the door and shut the window blinds before I returned to him.

“Why do you want my shirt?” I teased. “Do you simply want to see me naked?”

“Yes,” he said matter of factly, “but drop the ‘simply.’ I want to see you naked, spread out on the counter, and I want you to see me all dolled up in something pretty.”

The way his eyes lit up at the end of that sentence startled me. This was definitely a first for me. The studly looking, sweet talking, fairly burly guy in front of me wanted to dress in pretty clothes. I could barely believe it.

“Are you serious?”

“I took my shirt off for you, didn’t I? It doesn’t get much more serious than that, does it?”

“All right,” I said gamely. This was the most exciting thing to happen to me in months. Maybe even years. I moved around him and into the main part of the store. What on earth would I have that might fit him? I thought for a moment, and then headed to a rack of long, flowing skirts with elastic waistbands. His problem would be the height. Would I have any shirts that would fit him? Aha. I had a whole row of beautifully printed artist smock type shirts, long tunics that ran to XXL. I snagged one that looked like a Matisse print and then went to find stockings. We cater to men and women, and we have a little of everything in the store. My assistant had purchased thigh highs that stayed on without garters. One size fits most, the package said. I’d been wary of these when she’d placed the order, but now I was infinitely grateful. Finally, I needed shoes. “What size shoe do you wear?” I asked. He answered with the UK size, which I translated easily to the US.

I sprinted up the stairs to the stockroom. No way would he fit in any of the ladies shoes I had, so I chose the most unisex looking pair of riding boots I could find in his size.

When I came back down, he was nude. What a delicious sight. He had taken off his shoes and Levis, and now he was standing in the middle of my store entirely naked. I had a difficult time not asking if we could forget the whole playing dress up thing and get right to the fucking. Let’s say it had been awhile.

“I don’t sell underwear,” I told him, happily eyeing his semi erect cock. The size of it made me smile. The girth made my pussy clench in anticipation. He would definitely be able to please with a tool like that.

“I don’t wear any,” he said with a grin, stating the obvious.

I handed him the thigh highs. As he opened the package, I asked, “Have you had much experience wearing ladies’ clothing?”

“Define ‘much.’”

He looked so cute unrolling the stockings that I could barely utter any words, but I managed.

“Much. I don’t know. Plenty. A lot. More than your average sailor on leave.”

“I know what the word means.” He laughed. “I mean, what would you think much experience was? Six times? A hundred? Daily? Twice?”

“You tell me.”

He sat on a chair outside of the dressing rooms and pointed one of his feet. He had pretty feet, I noticed. Well pedicured, not rough. When I looked more intently, I saw that his toenails were painted a color I recognized as Polished Oyster. Revlon. I had a bottle of it at home.

Gently, he pulled on the thigh highs, answering my questions with the gracefulness of his gestures. Oh, hell, yes he had experience wearing stockings. That was for sure. I tend to rip them right out of the package and run them before I even slip on a shoe. My assistant jokes that I should take out stock in Hanes. But not this man. He worked with finesse, and I noticed as he pulled on the pair that his legs were shaved smooth. I hoped I’d remembered to shave mine!

I reached for the skirt and handed over the delicate, flowery material. He slid it on and then looked at me, waiting. I was the stylist. He was the star. I handed him the tunic. To my elation, relief and delight, the smock top worked. He didn’t look entirely female, but he looked surprisingly feminine. Something seemed to change in his face when he admired his sweet reflection in the wall of mirrors. His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. I handed over the riding boots.

Can I say that I’ve always had a thing for a girl in riding boots? No, I’m not gay or even bi, but women who can pull off the look win a special place of honor in my heart. When he put on the boots, I felt my chest tighten. He looked so fucking sexy. I crawled closer toward him, and stroked the leather boots with my hands.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft and hinting at his nervousness.

“I think I need . . . ” I started, and then he was pulling me up to standing, wrapping me in his arms.

“What do you need?”

My mind was spinning wildly. The way he asked the question was so erotic, as if he would be able to fulfill any wish that I might state. If I said, “I need you to tie me to the staircase railing and fuck me while you wear your skirt,” he would do it. If I said, “I need you to dress me up as a man and let me fuck you with a strap on,” he would do it. I didn’t know this for a fact that was only the sensation I had upon hearing his words: What do you need?

“I need . . . ” I said, and then I twisted out of his arms and sank to my knees. He looked down at me. I thought he could tell what I wanted from my expression he must have been able to because he started to hike up his skirt. I have to say, “started to hike up his skirt” is in an expression that had never described any action I’d experienced previously. I’d never been with a cross dresser, and I’d never been with a lover who wore a skirt. All my romantic experience to this point had been strictly hetero and fairly vanilla. Maybe this is why I was so fucking wet when I burrowed under his skirt in search of his cock. I was charting new sexual territory, and I loved it.

The light filtered through the skirt, making pretty patterns on the floor around me, as if I was basking beneath a stained glass window. I admired the colors for a second before being nudged by something long, hard and demanding.

I opened my lips.

Then I heard his sigh as I closed my lips around the head of his sturdy rod. He stroked my head through the delicate fabric of his skirt, and I began to pump my mouth up and down his unit. I loved that he was wearing those tall riding boots, that he had on no underwear, that he was fully clad in feminine clothes I had chosen. How much fun we might have in the future, I thought. I buy most of the clothes for the store. I’d be able to order the perfect sizes. I could even find wonderful panties for him, I realized, soft satin beauties that would hug his firm ass.

I had to slip a hand between my legs as I sucked him. My pussy was getting so wet that I could feel the juices through two layers jeans and bikinis. His cock seemed to let me know how to work him. He butted against me, and then pulled back. I found a rhythm and maintained the speed and suction, matching the pattern with the way I twirled circles over my own clit through my clothes.

But when I heard him say, “I’m getting closer,” I pulled back.

“I want you inside me,” I announced breathlessly.

I re emerged from beneath his skirt. His cock was tenting the gauzy fabric. He looked pitiful standing there, with no release, a hard on like a tent pole waiting for what was next. I stripped out of my shirt and jeans, then bra and panties. A shiver of delight ran through me. I liked the fact that he was dressed and I was nude. That he oh, wow. I realized in a flash that I didn’t even know his name.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said softly, “with you all dressed up like that. I want your cock inside me, while I’m naked. And I want to know your name.”

He cracked a smile and put out his hand. “Evan,” he said.

“I’m Deirdre,” I told him, looking at his cock rather than his face.

“Pleased to meet you.” I had to laugh as he grabbed me and bent me over the padded maroon chair in front of the dressing room mirror.

“You like to watch, Deirdre?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Me, too.”

He pulled the skirt up to his waist and then pressed the head of his cock between my legs. I was so wet that he slipped in easily. The sensation made both of us groan with pure pleasure.

“Do you usually get this wet?”

I shook my head I was telling the truth. I like sex, but this was different. This was unusual. I’d never been this aroused before. I felt as if my juices had coated the insides of my thighs.

“What’s the difference this time?” he asked as he thrust inside me. Oh, so he was a talker. I tried to respond intelligently, but I have to say, the way he was fucking me made most thoughtful dialogue evaporate from my brain.

“You,” I started, “in that skirt.”

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? The peacock like presentation of this handsome man in colorful, silky fabrics, so different from all the tough guys I’d been with before. Not that Evan didn’t look tough. But the plume of colors around his waist and the impressionist printed smock tempered the testosterone.

“I like me in this skirt, too,” he confessed, “and you naked, and the way the thigh highs feel on my skin. I’ve always thought women were the luckier of the sexes. You get to wear such pretty clothes. Why can’t men ever have a chance? Outside of the occasional Halloween costume, we’re pretty much relegated to denim or khakis and cotton.”

Yes, he was a talker. But at least he could fuck while he talked. The whole time he spoke, he rode me, his hands on my hips, pulling me forward and back, slamming his cock so deep inside me I thought I’d see stars.

“You like the feel of the skirt on your skin?” he asked, and I nodded. “Tell me.”

I understood what he wanted in a flash. “You’re so pretty,” I said, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I love the way you looked in men’s clothes. But you dressed as a girl is far sexier. I want to dress you up in so many different things.”

He groaned.

“I want to make you beautiful, the prettiest boy at the ball.” On a whim, for no reason at all, I said, “And all the girls will want to fuck you.” And that’s what took him to the edge, and took me over it. We came almost simultaneously I don’t know whose orgasm triggered whose. But that’s how it worked wham, bam, thank you, ma’am we were coming. His hands held me tighter, his cock thrust faster, and then we slowed down and settled back on planet Earth.

I felt as if I’d run a race, felt as if I’d won the race. He pulled out of me and readjusted his clothes. I stifled a giggle, but then I had an idea.

Before round two, I moved around him and headed back to the counter.

“Where are you going? You’re not going to ring me up, are you?”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” I smirked and came back with my little striped cosmetic bag. “I want to see you in lipstick.”

He pouted for me. Perfectly. Clearly, the boy knew his way around a tube and I don’t only mean the subway. I had two different hues, a dark cherry and a paler pink. I went with the cherry and felt elated when I saw that the color suited his skin tone perfectly.

“What else do you have in there?” He took the bag from me, manhandled my blush brush, and then did up his cheekbones with my favorite bronzer. The clothes were all askew now, so when he gazed at his reflection, he looked debauched and used, but with a sparkle.

“You look so fucking sexy,” I told him. “I want you to kiss me. All over.”

I didn’t have to ask twice. He spread me out on the floor and started, his lips on my lips for only a moment still, I relished the sensation. I’d never kissed a man wearing lipstick before. I savored the silkiness of the gloss on his lips. Even the scent of the lipstick turned me on. I wondered if men felt the same way when they’d kissed me. I couldn’t imagine how they wouldn’t find this alluring. Then he moved down, along my neck, my chest, the curve of my belly. He was leaving imprints from my own favorite lipstick. That thought tied me up inside. I crossed my legs, feeling the wetness between them, but he uncrossed them quickly and began to kiss the very insides of my thighs. I wanted him to have the easiest access possible.

When he tongued my pussy, I sighed and wrapped my legs around his back.

“You taste so sweet,” he said, and I sighed. “I knew you would. I can always tell.”

“How?”

He shook his head. His soft hair tickled the insides of my thighs. “There’s a look some women have, a look that lets me know they like sex, that they’ll be good, that they’ll taste sweet.”

I didn’t believe him, not really, but my body responded to his words. Everything he said was dipped in that accent. I wanted him to talk to me forever. I say that now, but truthfully, I also wanted him to keep eating me. The two desires warred for domination. He ultimately made the decision for me talking while he nibbled and licked, his voice slightly muffled by my wet flesh. “So sweet,” he continued, his tongue cresting over my clit, “like apples and cinnamon. Like honeydew melon.”

I was right on the verge when he moved once more. I watched as he stood and let the skirt fall to the floor. Now he was in the smock and the boots and stockings. He pulled off the top and I sucked in my breath. I have stood in an outfit so similar to his before many of my lovers. Girls in riding boots do the trick for many men. But this was unique. Evan in those stockings and boots looked like an Amazon from another time. A blend of the masculine and feminine that was sexier than almost anything I’d ever seen.

“I want to fuck you against the stairs,” he said, almost as if he’d read my thoughts from earlier. Or maybe anyone with a hard on would see what a good location my stairs are.

I stood up and walked to the stairway. He pressed me up against the wall, brought my hands over my head, and positioned me so I knew exactly what to do. I held on to the rails and felt him grip me from behind. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he pressed against my ass. The feel of his stockings on my legs, the feel of his boots against my skin oh, I can hardly describe what a turn on that was. Then he was parting the cheeks of my ass to hold me open and sliding his cock into my pussy. From that very first thrust, I was gone. I could not remember ever being this aroused with a man before. Why hadn’t I ever considered asking one of my men to dress in drag? I’d done many things in the past but never this. And this was what turned out to be my biggest aphrodisiac ever.

“Keep holding on,” Evan whispered. “Don’t you let go.”

I gripped the rails tightly in both of my fists.

“I want you to come with me,” he said next, “at the same time I do. Will you?”

I felt like saying, “I’ll try.” But I knew he wanted more confidence than that. So I said, “Yes, Evan. Yes, I promise.”

He rode me hard, and I groaned and lowered my head, but kept my arms up, holding the wooden railings. How many years had I owned the shop? Ten. How many times had I been fucked in it? None. Thank God for Evan. I think I needed to play catch up and quick.

I could feel when the tempo changed, when he got into a groove that let me know he was getting close. Then he slid one hand in front of my body and started to stroke and pinch my clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He was going to make damn sure we climaxed together. I wanted to kiss him for that except kissing him would mean turning around, and I wouldn’t have let go of his cock for anything.

“Are you close?” he murmured.

“Right with you,” I said breathlessly.

We came like clockwork, like ringing bells, like two strangers who have found out they fit each other like velvet gloves. We came hard, and my fingers, sweaty and stressed from clenching the rails, finally slipped free. Evan held me tight in his arms, and then set me back down. I turned to look at him. His face was flushed, but the makeup was mostly still there smeared lipstick, but rosy lips. He was handsome yet beautiful at the same time. His stockings were slipping, and I loved that look. I wanted him to wear the nylon stockings under his jeans, so I’d know they were there. I wanted to take him home and dress him up in scarves and slips, satin and velvet. I wanted . . .

I looked down at his cock. He was hard again. Suddenly, I wanted something completely different. I pushed him down, so he was on his back on the floor once more.

“You aren’t planning on leaving any time soon, are you?” I asked as I climbed on for another ride.

The best time of year in New York City is Halloween. The annual parade is a cross dresser’s dream, and there’s no shortage of attractive young men in women’s clothes. This year I opted to be a slutty schoolgirl, a particular favorite costume of mine.

On Halloween morning, I woke up early to start getting ready for the parade. I had hours before I had to leave, but I took the extra time to soak in the bath. I washed up, shaved, and pulled out everything I would need to primp. There were all sorts of accessories laid out on the bed, and my bathroom counter was covered with every beauty product I owned. It was time to get down to business.

As a schoolgirl, I decided my makeup needed to be young and fresh, and I pushed aside all the dark colors, picking through the remaining powders and creams until I found what I wanted. I went with bright pink blush, coral lipstick, and an eye shadow palette that let me create a smoky look with lots of pinks and browns. I even used brown mascara instead of black so my lashes wouldn’t look so dramatic. When I checked myself out in the mirror, I was proud of the look I’d created. Even without my wig or costume, I felt like I appeared much younger than my thirty five years. I couldn’t wait to see what I would look like with the entire ensemble in place!

I knew I would only get more aroused as I dressed, and I didn’t want to risk ruining my costume or having a “wardrobe malfunction” that exposed my straining dick, so I figured I’d treat myself to an orgasm before I finished getting ready. I pumped some lotion into my palm and took my cock in my hand. I started stroking slowly as I imagined what I’d look like once I was dressed, and my dick quickly stiffened. Another few strokes and I was as hard as steel. I let my imagination run wild, and I pictured myself as a gorgeous young woman whose skirt kept blowing up in the wind, putting my panties on display for everyone to see. My hand started moving faster along my shaft, and as I envisioned the crowd of onlookers my visible panties would draw, I felt my cock start to pulse. I pumped faster, until I was ready to burst. Then I let go, and I came like a geyser. I shot straight into the toilet, and when I was done, I used a wet wipe to clean up as I tried to catch my breath. I was still pretty aroused, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about creaming my panties for a while.

Next, I got dressed. I put on a pair of pristine white cotton panties and an equally youthful white cotton bra, the kind made out of t shirt material and designed to be “casual” as if lingerie, no matter how plain, could be anything but sexy. I stuffed the bra with a pair of silicone “chicken cutlets,” which gave me a decent set of B cup tits, and I admired them for a few moments, even taking a minute to feel myself up. I liked the way the plain white underthings looked, how simple but sensual, and I waited as long as possible before covering them up with the rest of my outfit.

A short gray skirt and white button down shirt came next, the skirt long enough to cover my ass and not much else, and the shirt showing off the barely visible cleavage my bra created. A pair of navy knee high socks came next, as well as classic saddle shoes, and I topped off the ensemble with a navy crossover tie and matching tiepin. Then I pulled on my wig, a shaggy brunette cut that I tied back in low, loose pigtails. When I walked back into the bathroom to look in the mirror, I was impressed with the saucy schoolgirl I saw looking back at me.

I was ready to go, and when I walked outside, I saw crowds of costumed people making their way along the street to the parade. I pushed my way through the throngs of people until I found a contingent of drag queens, all decked out in their glitter and glitz. The other cross dressers always crowd around them, and I wanted to see what everyone was wearing. It felt like Fashion Week to me, but instead of models strutting down the catwalk, I wanted to see the cross dressers moving up Sixth Avenue.

There were TVs dressed in latex nurses’ outfits and super short nuns’ habits, as well as a few cheerleaders and cowgirls, and even a couple of brides. Some of them looked like real girls, others not so much. But the person who really caught my eye was a guy dressed as a Girl Scout. Her uniform looked authentic, and she’d obviously taken care to shave and do her hair and makeup, because from a distance, I couldn’t tell at first if she was really a TV or if she was an actual female who happened to be hanging out with us. I didn’t care either way she was gorgeous!

I approached the Girl Scout as we neared the end of the parade route, and I introduced myself. “I love your outfit,” I told her. “I’m Christopher.” I didn’t know who she was, so I figured giving her my real name was best, to avoid confusion.

“Matt,” the Girl Scout told me. “And you look fabulous! Is that a real school uniform? It looks exactly like the ones the girls at my high school wore.”

I thanked Matt for the compliment. Then I asked if he wanted to grab a drink with me. I didn’t know if he was into men or women (for the record, I’m bisexual), but I wanted to find out. Matt agreed to a drink, and we wandered over to one of the packed bars.

I found Matt incredibly attractive in his uniform, and I couldn’t stop staring at him as we threw back a few beers in the cramped bar. When he leaned over to shout something in my ear, he reached around and grabbed my ass, his fingertips brushing my thigh while he palmed my right cheek. His hand was still on my ass as he started to move away, and it forced him to stay close. When I turned my head to respond to him, I found his face right next to mine, our lips only millimeters apart. It took me a second to get my bearings with him so close, and I had barely figured out what to do when I felt Matt’s lips on mine.

My arms wrapped around Matt’s waist, and I reached down to grope his ass through his skirt. Having his hands on my feminine form was a huge turn on, and I felt my cock strain against my panties. I knew I should make the next move, but I didn’t have to Matt had started pulling me back toward the bathroom. We were both dressed as women, so he pulled me into the ladies’ room, which was surprisingly empty considering how crowded the bar was.

Matt pulled me into an empty stall and spun me around to press me against the closed door. The longer our kiss lasted, the harder my cock grew, until I worried I was going to come in my panties. When I thought I couldn’t last any longer, Matt’s hand worked its way into my briefs and he began tugging on my dick. When I was rock hard, he turned me around, flipped up my skirt, pulled down my panties and rubbed my ass. I moaned quietly, and then his hand was gone.

I heard the rustle of clothing as Matt slid down his own underwear and pulled up his skirt. Then there was the sound of a condom package ripping open, and the latex sheath being rolled onto Matt’s dick. The next thing I felt was his hard cock nudging my ass and then sliding inside me.

As Matt fucked my ass, I imagined what we looked like: a schoolgirl with her skirt up while a Girl Scout banged her from behind. The thought aroused me even more, if that was possible, and I felt a drop of pre come ooze out of my cockhead. I tried not to moan too loudly as his dick bottomed out in my ass with each thrust, but it felt so good that it was hard to control myself.

Matt’s hips banged against me, and with each stroke I felt the front of my skirt sway, teasingly brushing my cock. I felt my dick start to throb like crazy as the Girl Scout continued thrusting into my ass, and I hoped he came soon, because I knew I was about to climax. When I came a minute later, with Matt still pounding me from behind, I bit my lip as I shot my load, not wanting to cry out.

When Matt pulled out of my ass, I quickly pulled my panties back into place while he straightened up next to me. Once we’d fixed our uniforms, we checked our makeup and then went back into the bar for another drink before going our separate ways. I ended up flirting with a nurse and a cheerleader later that night, and I got a princess’s phone number, but Matt the Girl Scout was absolutely the highlight of my Halloween.

Mr. Christopher H., New York, New York

To you women whose husbands and boyfriends are always buying you frilly, sexy lingerie and expecting you to wear it every night of the week, here’s something you might try to break them of the habit and add a new dimension to a routine sex life.

Rick and I have been married for almost three years now. Since the time we started dating, Rick has been giving me intimate apparel such as teddies, baby doll nighties, panties, etc. It pleased me to receive these gifts and I wore them to please Rick, despite feeling self conscious about some of the outfits.

One evening I was reading our latest issue of Variations and came across several letters from women who had persuaded their husbands or boyfriends to wear various articles of lingerie as a game. The interesting fact was that often the lingerie had been purchased by the man as a gift for the woman. Surprisingly, most of the women reported that their men were extremely aroused when dressed in this manner and that usually the couples engaged in what was described as “tremendous” sex.

The following day was Saturday, and I was washing out some undies when it occurred to me that almost all of my lingerie had been picked out or given to me by Rick. It made me think back to the letters I had read the night before and wonder what Rick’s reaction would be if I suggested he wear some of my intimate clothing. The more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became. Finally, while folding and putting away my clothes, I decided to give it a try.

That evening after supper, I asked Rick if he’d like me to give him a bath and maybe get “ready for bed” early. Rick took the bait and was undressed before the tub was full. I gently washed his body, paying special attention to his balls and cock. Then I had him get out and I dried him off with a large towel.

Taking him by the hand, I led him into the bedroom, had him lie down and gently dusted his body with bath powder. As he lay there, I slowly undressed while giving him sensual glances. Once undressed, I went to my drawer and pulled out several of my intimate outfits: a lacy black teddy, a set of short pj’s and a pink baby doll nightie with crotchless panties that Rick had given me. Rick was already aroused just watching me. As I held each outfit up, I asked him, “Which outfit do you like for tonight?”

Rick said that the pink baby doll and panties were his choice and then waited for me to put them on. Instead, to his surprise, I sat down on the bed and began to pull the panties up his legs. At first he resisted, but with some gentle reassurance and a well positioned hand on his cock, he allowed me to put them on him. I then had him sit up and slipped the nightie over his outstretched arms and over his head. It was obvious from his enormous erection that he was aroused by this new twist.

I pulled his throbbing member through the crotchless panties and gently massaged it with the soft nylon material of the nightie. Rick was going crazy and so I stopped. By this time I had him so horny, he would have done anything dressed as he was. I explained that he could have me any way he wanted as long as he stayed dressed in the nightie and panties. Rick agreed, and what followed was just like what had been described in the Variations letters. We fucked, sucked, licked, moaned and groaned for hours until both of us were exhausted.

Never before had I seen Rick so aroused. And even though he was so daintily dressed in the panties and nightie, he made love like a real man. He fell asleep in his outfit, and in the morning I gently gave him a wake up blowjob to let him know I loved the night before.

Since then, Rick has occasionally worn something of mine during an evening of lovemaking. We don’t do it all the time, and I always initiate the game. Rick continues to buy me sexy things, and I often wonder if when he’s buying them he’s hoping I’ll ask him to wear them one night. Anyway, if you want a night to remember, take my advice: Dress your man up in your finest lingerie and watch the passion explode!

Ms. W.B., Maryland