GET DRESSED UP

Happy Halloween!

I love this holiday because it's the one day a year it's acceptable to dress as you please, saying good-bye to social conventions. Be the sexy extrovert you feel you are deep down inside but feel too shy/scared/afraid-of-upsetting-the-social-norm to throughout the rest of the year. Proudly fly your freak flag high.


This time of year is also a great time for all of the shy crossdressers to do some clothes shopping. Not that they need an excuse to buy ladies undergarments in an extra-large size, but Halloween is always a ready excuse if a nosy shopkeeper raises an eyebrow when you bring that bundle of goodies to the cash register.

Dress up and have some fun, I know I will.

Nothing Beats A Great Pair Of Leggs!

I remember the tag line from the television commercials when Leggs pantyhose were still sold in their white plastic eggs. “Nothing beats a great pair of Leggs!”

My sentiments exactly.

I do so enjoy gazing at the objects of my affection and nothing draws the attention of my eyes quicker than a pair of legs wrapped in nylon. Whenever I leave home I always take note when I notice a woman wearing a skirt or dress accessorized with pantyhose. As I go about my travels I count them and split them into categories in my head: 5 women wearing them, 2 pairs of black, 1 opaque and 2 skin-tone. I might add “Hot!” as a category if the outfit is particularly striking. For example, the other evening in Times Square I saw a woman in a short black dress, black heels and black nylons with a leaf and vine pattern running up the back of her legs.

I do like the current fashion of leggings worn beneath a skirt, dress or pair of short shorts but prefer the transparency of nylon rather than the opaque cotton Lycra™ blends.

Often when walking down the street I notice a nice pair of hose clad legs in front of me and slow my pace to better enjoy the view. Occasionally I’ll even alter my walking course to keep a pair in sight for a few minutes more viewing pleasure. On several occasions I’ve spotted some good looking stems and when I caught up to the walker I’m surprised to discovered they belong to a older woman who doesn’t seem to match up with what’s below her hem line.

These days as summer seems to linger I find myself acting as the fashion police (in my head anyway). I’ll notice a woman wearing a skirt or dress and gaze down at her bare legs and think, You’d look so much better if you were wearing pantyhose. I won’t even get started on what I think of the trend of wearing cheap flip-flops everywhere.

I’ll be the first to admit that it would be murder to wear pantyhose and high heels all the time but bless the women who brave the streets of Manhattan so clad and provide visual delights.

Nothing beats a great pair of legs!

CORRECTION: Regarding my last post, I went by the Disney store and the poster in the window actually says, "Dream It Be It"

Don’t Dream It, Be It

I believe that line comes from an old Fredrick’s of Hollywood catalog. Fredrick’s of Hollywood started as a lingerie store in Hollywood (of course) and at some point began publishing a catalog of all the delicate under things and shoes, wigs, etc. that they sold.

The phrase “Don’t dream it, be it” was used in a song and I believe as a song title in “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” (a rite of passage, stepping stone, high-water or benchmark for transvestites everywhere).

Recently I noticed a sign hanging in the window of a Disney Store, it shows a little girl dressed like one of the Disney princesses and it had a tag line that said, “Don’t just dream it.” or something very very close to that.

It made me think of Frankenfurter resplendent in his drag.

And then recently…

I was perusing some pantyhose pornography I had downloaded from a pantyhose site; it was a series of photos showing an older woman (50’s I’d say) with a large black man. The woman is stylishly dressed in a dark suit jacket over matching skirt, black seamless pantyhose and high heels. I think she looks stunning, adorned with pearls and light metal-framed eyeglasses. In the first photo of the set she and the man are fully dressed, in the next two he is pant less and lying across a low table and she stands nearby having removed her skirt.

WOW, something about those two photos really turns me on. Thinking about it I realized that I wanted to be in her shoes, literally. I think she looks so sexy I want to be dressed just like her. I want to be in that same situation, dressed like her and about to engage in sex.

Then...

Looking through a magazine the other day, there was a short article about a fashion designer, it featured a photo of her in a short black dress, black opaque hose and high heels with ankle straps. Again, I thought of a line from that song in Rocky Horror, where Frankenfurter sings about Fay Wray and how he wanted to be “Dressed just like her”.

We’re heading into autumn, my favorite time of year, when women’s fashions tend to feature dark or colored hosiery. This morning I got on the train and was standing there reading when I noticed a young woman get on, she stood right near me. She was wearing a black top, black and white plaid short shorts, black pantyhose and high heels. She looked yummy. It’s ironic that a man wearing women’s clothes is called being in drag, when I thought about what she was wearing and what a drag it was to be wearing what I was.

Still dreaming,

Broken Record

I really must apologize for the scarcity of my posting but to tell you the truth, Miss M has just not had any adventures or any thing else to report.

I hate to sound like a broken record but it's happened again, someone I had arranged to meet with said they would call and didn't and another has just dropped off the e-mail radar.

Were this to happen after they met me I'd really be depressed, as it is I'm only mildly depressed. I just don't understand the stopping of communication when you've established a link with someone. Do they contact me knowing they have no intention of ever meeting or as the e-mail progress and get more explicit do they merely get frightened? Perhaps the idea of meeting someone like me turns them on but the actualization of that fantasy is beyond them for some reason.

I'd go out to the clubs in the city if I didn't have to take public transportation (still a iffy thing to do for a gal like me except on Halloween).

What's It All About

I just spent the last three days and nights alone in my apartment working at my drawing table on a freelance illustration project. The weather outside was sunny and mild; these were beautiful blue-sky days unlike the hot and humid week that had preceded it. The weather was saying come out and play while the deadline was saying sit down and get to work.

During the previous week I had been with family, so when Friday night finally came and I was alone I practically jumped into black pantyhose, a waist cincher, a short pleated skirt and a oversized belted jersey. Thusly dressed I immediately felt charged up with a sexual energy but also in a calm and comfortable state. I was then able to spend a few hours working at the drawing table before submitting to my personal carnal desires.

At Least One Person Is Reading This

I have been lax in posting new entries for several reasons, a new part time job, a looming freelance deadline and the lethargy that results from the thought that no one is reading this.

Then last week I get a surprise, a message in my mailbox with the subject line: I Love Your Blog.

Well it warmed my heart and excited me to find out that a handsome (he sent photos) young man had read my postings and was kind enough to write me. His letter was polite and articulate. This is vastly different from most replies I’ve gotten when I’ve posted an ad in the past, as you know if you’ve read some of my previous postings.

Yes, I’m looking for a kinky and imaginative sex partner that I’ll be able to share my baser desires with, but a modicum of intelligence and proper manners is preferred. If I’m to crawl across the floor clad in lipstick, heels and hose seeking verbal debasement and oral pleasure I like the person I’m sharing the experience with to appreciate it physically, intellectually and on another level which I would label, commonality. Shared desires and experiences that enable you to connect with them on a higher level of exchange.

So now we've exchanged several e-mails discussing our experiences and what turns us on, and he's expressed an interest in meeting and since he lives here in Jersey...

The Girl Can’t Make It

It’s all very ephemeral, these words you read, this blog, web sites and the Internet in general. Nothing really exists beyond numbers and code. Evidence of the physical world but out of our reach. So too are the connections we make online; others like us sitting in front of a lighted screen typing away.

In my last posting I mentioned the possibility of a date, well, it’s been a while since Miss M has made a connection, people write, they answer an ad and then they disappear. Afraid to make that leap to a physical connection, unable to get away from their wife or just living off the thrill of a fantasy as they imagine it. Yesterday I contacted a person who enjoys the erotic appeal of pantyhose as much as I do. Previous messages indicated that they were free on Tuesdays and had a desire to meet and share our passion. We had gotten together once before and conflicting schedules had made meeting again difficult. Off goes my e-mail, “Hey, are you still available on Tuesdays? Interested in getting together?”

Meanwhile, I check my e-mails and notice something on a posting from one of the groups I belong to. Suzie, another person I’ve gotten together with in the past and whom shares my same kinky passion for pantyhose, lipstick and high heeled shoes had posted on the group site asking if anyone was available to meet, the posting was dated from the previous week.

Suze and I have the same problem of conflicting schedules and towns and counties between us. It’s been over a year since we’ve been able to meet (this point might all be moot were I to own an automobile and drive). I sent her an e-mail, “Any luck connecting with someone from your posting?” Her answer came back negative, “But hey, are you available any time this week?”

“Well, tomorrow and possibly Friday early in the day.” She shot back an e-mail right away, tomorrow was fine and in a quick flurry of e-mails we set up a time and expressed our desires for the long overdue pantyhose encounter. Of course I had to add “Call me in the morning to confirm, because it takes about two hours to shower and get made up and dressed.

Checking my e-mail later in the day there was a response from the friend with Tuesdays free, “How about 12:30 tomorrow?

“Sure.” I wrote back, surprised, delighted, and confused about what to do. “Uh, call me in the morning to confirm, and um, hey, my friend Suzie might be here to join us.”

From that moment on I was wondering if it would all come together, would any of it come together? How strange would it be to not connect with anyone for months and then to have two dates in one day? Could I handle two dates in one day? Was I a total slut for even getting in this situation? Yes, it was strange. Yes, I could handle it, it would be better if their visits overlapped and we all got together in a pantyhose frenzy but I could handle two encounters in one day. I would feel sinfully wicked and would definitely have to share this experience on this blog. So, yes, I was a total slut for even considering this situation.

I painted my fingernails while watching late night television and considered the possibilities.

This morning I got the call from Suze, “Sorry, I can’t make it today.”

11:40 no word from my other pantyhose friend. How long should I wait?

12:00 nothing.

12:30 I take off the nail polish and go on with my life.

Pantyhose friend is going to get an e-mail; disappointed in the outcome of this morning should it be nasty? Berating? Or just, please don’t bother contacting me again?

Um...

Well I haven't posted in a while, discouraged that no one is reading.

I still haven't met with Vanessa yet but I thought I might mention that I have a date for tomorrow with Suzie another bi TV that I've gotten together with in the past.

If everything goes as planned I'll have something to write about.

A Possible Meeting?

Well, the other evening I had a phone call with another gal like me whom had contacted me after I'd placed an ad on craigslist.org, the talk was tentative but after admitting you're a man who loves to wear women's clothing to each other talk comes easier.


Vanessa called like she said she would in an e-mail where she also sent me her phone number so I would recognize it was her when she called. We seemed to have a similar philosophy about dressing and when I complimented her eye make up in the photo she sent she told me it was done by a woman who lives near her.


We are going to try to meet up soon but typically, her Friday evenings are free and mine aren't for the near future (sigh!)

You Are What You Wear

As a self-described cross dresser I, by my very nature choose to wear women’s clothing for reasons that satisfy me psychologically and sexually. The idea and act of dressing up sexually excites me but I also enjoy a blissful calming state as I don women’s undergarments, makeup, heels and hose.

By necessity and choice I spend a the majority of my time in garb appropriate to my sex and society, perhaps then the release I find in cross dressing is so much sweeter for it. A while back I came to the realization that whenever I spend some time with my family I always feel the urge to dress up in female attire as soon as I can possibly be alone. Perhaps it’s a need to express my true (but hidden) self.

This played out again last night as I returned home from a family vacation. I love my family and we get along great but I’m subject to the need to conform to their lifestyle and way of thinking when I’m around them, so that the first opportunity I get alone and in my apartment, I pull out the pantyhose and high heels.

Even though it was after midnight when I got home from the airport it was divinely wonderful to put on a pair of black pantyhose and slip into my sling-back pumps.


Even so…

While vacationing at the shore we passed a nearby outlet mall and sign for one of the stores instantly caught my eye. It was an outlet store for Leggs, Hanes and Bali. Two days later I slipped away before dinner and drove over to the shop hoping they might have one of my favorite styles of hosiery.

I went to the store hoping to find cheap pricing on the “Just My Size” black opaque tights that I constantly wear around the house. Unfortunately they didn’t have the tights but I did purchase some of their off-black control top pantyhose at four for ten dollars. It was liberating to walk into the store in my street clothes, peruse the goods, ask a clerk for help and make my purchase without incident or awkwardness.

Touché.

Dating Update

Nothing, a big fat nothing. That's what has resulted from all the ads I placed on craigslist.org and the TGBeauties site.

There was a cross dressing gal who contacted me from craigslist who had great looking legs and was bi-curious but after a few e-mails nothing.

And then there was a guy from craigslist who sounded promising until he said he was going to call me and then didn't. I wrote him an e-mail the next day to inquire and it cam bouncing back as an invalid address. Huh?

One American's Dream

The artwork behind me in the photo was created for an
art show called One American Dream. It was sponsored
by Grace Church Van Vorst and was a part of Jersey
City's 2005 GLBT Pride celebration.

My art was featured in the official program for the
celebration and was mentioned in a New York Times
review of the show.

When I learned of the title of the show the idea for
the artwork came naturally...

"I DON'T WANT TO BE A WOMAN, I JUST WANT TO DRESS LIKE ONE."

To Be Realized?

I greet him at the door, he enters and I walk up the stairs to my apartment in front of him giving him a good look at my ass and my hose covered legs. He’s brought a bottle of white wine, we open it in the kitchen and then take our glasses into the next room. Some jazz is playing low and scented candles provide a relaxed ambience. I cross the room and sit on the sofa, patting the seat next to me. He joins me there never taking his eyes off my legs. Sitting next to me he tells me he likes my shoes I smile and thank him, telling him how handsome he looks in his suit coat. He blushes and takes a sip of his wine. We begin with small talk, "Where are you from?" "What do you do?" His eyes travel hungrily up and down my body, but always returning to my dark nylon covered legs.

The small talk has relaxed him a bit and then I ask, “Have you ever been with anyone like me before?” the question has caught him off guard and he sputters before lowering his eyes and answering, “No,” then quickly adding, “But I’ve always wanted to.” His face is bright red and I give a wicked little smile at having caused this. We continue talking but now I steer the subject towards sex. He’s shy but confesses to an encounter with one of his friends when he was a teen. I almost like watching him squirm but I have another agenda tonight.

He keeps staring at my legs and when finally there is a long pause in the conversation I ask him, “Would you like to feel how smooth they are?” He nearly spills his wine setting it hastily on the coffee table, and then tentatively touches my nylon covered knee. Slowly he begins to move his hand back and forth along my knee and lower leg. I lean back into the pillows of the sofa and uncross my legs. He takes his hand away but only for a moment as he shifts his position on the sofa, then it’s back on my knee and inching higher.

I ask if he likes how it feels and his eyes look into mine, he nods yes and then nearly under his breath says, “I like it very much.” I reach out with my right hand and run my fingers through his hair, then gently push him forward as I ask, “Would you like a taste?” In an instant he is on his knees in front of me and my ankle is in his hands. He begins with tentative kisses and then is pressing his lips into my hose covered flesh. His tongue travels over the top of my foot and up to my ankle as he delicately holds my high heel in his hand. Then his mouth is moving up my leg and sending shivers down my spine.

Watching him I see his hidden passion set free, he is gently making love to my pantyhose covered legs and the tent in his trousers is proof of his desire. As his lips reach my knee I slowly and slightly part my legs and he buries his face between my thighs. His breathing is harder and his hands are traveling up and down my legs from my heels to the hem of my skirt. I raise one foot and feel the hardness between his legs. He looks up into my eyes and I nod my assent.

Slowly his fingers begin to trace a path beneath my skirt…

Next Blog

While clicking away at the Next Blog link at the top of the page I came across a blog where a blogger was posting one word answers to a series of questions.

I thought I'd give it a try.

Yourself: tall
Your Hair: wig
Your Favorite Item: pantyhose
Your Dream Last Night: art
Your Favorite Drink: Cuervo
Your Dream Car: PT Cruiser
Dream Home: owner
The Room You Are In: library
Where You Want to be in Ten Years: comfortable
Who You Hung Out With Last Night: films
You’re Not: vicious
One of Your Wish List Items: shoes
The Last Thing You Did: bike
You Are Wearing: pantyhose
Your Favorite Weather: stormy
Last Thing You Ate: toast
Your Life: bi
Your Mood: relaxed
Your Best Friend: many
What Are You Thinking About Right Now: readers
Your Car: bike
What Are You Doing At The Moment: this
Relationship Status: ?
What Is On Your TV: films
What Is The Weather Like: hot
When Is The Last Time You Laughed: recently

Don't dream it, be it.

I've been keeping a dream journal for the past several years I try to record them (if I remember them ) first thing each morning.

Last night I dreamt I was dressed in black high heels, black hose, a short black skirt and a black tee-shirt. My brother and sister were coming and I didn't want them to see me like this. I ran from one room into a nearby bathroom with a make-up mirror and they glimpsed me going into the room. They were standing on the other side of the door and wanted to talk to me. I was unsure about this but was wondering to myself if I should tell them that I can make myself up to look a lot better than I was currently dressed.

What's a gal to do?

Well, the site counter I signed up for tells me that absolutely no one is visiting this site.

If you blog and no one reads you does it make a sound?

Woody Allan said:

Bisexuality, it doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night.

An Update

This is an update in regards to the personal ads I placed a few weeks ago. To date there are only two candidates who have sparked a real interest or a real chance to meet me. From the ad I placed on TG Beauties, I got about a dozen responses from guys that ranged from the Cro-Magnon to the genuinely sweet. Some sent photos, some were too young, some just didn’t spark an interest. A misspelled e-mail doesn’t help to generate an interest from me.

The two candidates actually are from a listing I posted on craislist.org. One turned out to be a gal with great legs, a wife and a need to be discreet. We’ve sent a few e-mails back and forth and I’ve given her my phone number. Maybe I’m superstitious but every time I’ve gotten in contact with someone and then been the first to call them I’ve gotten, “I can’t talk now, I’ll call you back.” never to be heard from again. Oh, there was the one who called back at like five in the morning when his girlfriend or mother must have been asleep. I hope this gal does call because we definitely share a few kinks.

The other response was a well-written note from a guy who sent a scary picture, not scary really but he looked like he was straight out of the Matrix, with dark wraparound shades. I asked for another picture, one where I could see his eyes, (The eyes are a dead giveaway for exposing crazy). He sent another photo, one where he looked down to earth and sort of vulnerable. Okay, I’ll take a chance, he seems intelligent, and interested in the type of gal I am and something of a gentleman from the way he writes. We’re going to talk next week.

Wish me luck.

She's got Legs

Legs, gams, pegs, pins, stems, etc.

A JOKE

What's a transvestite's idea of a good time?

Eat, drink, and be Mary.

Pantyhose Vs Stockings

Comfort, fashion or erotic appeal?

I enjoy the possibilities of both pantyhose and traditional nylon and silk stockings but when it comes to choice of what I prefer to wear I’m drawn to the ease and comfort of pantyhose as well as their body shaping qualities. When I was younger the exotic appeal of stockings was unparalleled; they seemed hidden and forbidden. The very nature of their design further enhances the roundness of the legs. Stockings offered access to mysterious areas but pantyhose were what were around.

My mother kept hers in the bathroom closet and that’s where I’d take them from to sneak away to my bedroom and put them on. I never got caught wearing them. I’m sure there were a few close calls with my brother who shared my room but none that I recall now.

I once read that older male children often become “leg men” as opposed to “breast” or “ass men” later in life because as their mother’s held younger siblings to her breast they sought comfort from her by clinging to her legs. I think for many growing up in a time when women traditionally did not wear pants (am I showing my age?) the comfort we felt was of a nylon nature.

So in my budding sexuality and interest in dressing like a girl I had retreated to a comfort zone where I had unknowingly eroticized, legs!

The problem a young man interested in wearing pantyhose faced was in acquiring them.

If I ever noticed a pair of my mother’s ruined hose in the trash I took them.

I swiped a blue pair from a neighbor’s house (my mother wore only nude or black) and in the basement of my best friend’s house I liberated a white pair destined for some craft project from a large bag of his sister’s and mother’s ruined hose.

Eventually I realized I could just buy them myself and when the need arose I’d buy them at drugstores and convenience stores that I seldom shopped in.

And so it went until eventually I wore them in an encounter with my friend E. If he could admit his curiosity and desire to experiment with me sexually I could certainly admit to wanting to wear pantyhose while we did it (at least occasionally). Once that happened there was almost no turning back. The fetish was developing and in the years to come it would manifest in many different ways.

The advent of the Internet and sites solely devoted to pantyhose and nylon fetishism was an awakening. There are others like me.

I enjoy the way nylons feel when I rub my legs together and the sound they make. I like the round smooth feeling of my ass when I wear them and the tingly excitement when I caress another pair of hose covered legs with my own.

I love pantyhose. I love to wear them and always notice when women are wearing them.

I’m sure I’ll have more to share on this topic in the future.

AS SEEN ON TV

AS SEEN ON TV

I always loved the packaging of this pair of pantyhose I once bought. The burst in the upper left proclaiming AS SEEN ON TV juxtaposed with the bold Queen Size and the bulleted • pantyhose for the larger women, just seem like someone at the manufacturer was in on the Drag Queen, transvestite joke.

Maybe not but the fact that it made me chuckle more than made up for the disappointment of finding out that these hose while somewhat sturdier were prone to runs and holes like any other pair of pantyhose.

While I’m visiting the subject of pantyhose and TV, I’ll confess to watching hours of several television sit-coms in order to catch a glimpse of pantyhose covered legs. I’ve only ever seen them in reruns and not when they originally aired but the three culprits that would draw my attention and sometimes even warrant watching with the sound turned off are:

“The Nanny” Double entandres and a gay sensibility but I could only bear the insipid plot lines for the glimpses of Fran Dresher and her incredible hose covered legs and saucy outfits.

“Just Shoot Me” This show took place in the offices of a fictional fashion magazine and there were plenty of short skirts and hose covered legs.

“Friends” I know this was one of the most popular shows of its time but I never watched it until I caught a glimpse of Jennifer Aniston or Courtney Cox in a short skirt and dark hose in a late-night rerun.

I also wasted one or two hours watching a late night infomercial for some incredible new waist-sliming, behind-enhancing brand of pantyhose. It may have even been broadcast in Spanish.

Showing my age again, I miss the days when Leggs and No Nonsense pantyhose were heavily advertised on television. (sigh.)

Some Results

So I placed an ad looking to meet another like minded
individual for some pantyhose fetish fun.

In my ad I carefully composed it to give someone an
idea of where my head is at, what my interests are,
and what I'm looking for in a potential partner.

The following is an actual response I received to my
ad.

i work in jersey by one enchange

Huh? Okay, to be fair I do mention in my ad that I
live in Jersey City and since I live here I do know
that One Exchange Place is an address for an office
building complex down town but come on. How about a
little more info? a name? a photo? Spell Check and
capitalization maybe?

I will kindly refrain from mentioning the senders
e-mail address

Bisexuality Part Two

It's a rainy day today, I've work to do at the drawing board and this is how I'm dressed. Black boots and tights, black bodysuit, black long sleeved blouse tied at the waist and a black leather collar around my throat.

I recently took stock of the number of people I've had sex with in my life and made two lists, Females and Males. The score is females 16, males 13. That's a pretty close race and I think it goes to prove my bisexual nature.

If youÕre wondering why I feel the need to expound on the subject of bisexuality it's because I believe it's an under explored and under represented area of modern sexuality. Sure, there has been a rise in the representation of bisexual women in the media, exampled by young women of the "Girls Gone Wild" variety and the "experimented in college" punch line. But male bisexuality seems hidden and is little discussed anywhere. I'm sure there are chat rooms, porno sites and discussion groups on line but in main stream society it's as if it doesn't exist.

Ya Gotta Have Friends! (An aside)

Of the thirteen males on my list, three were, are and will always remain close friends. The first E, was my friend from high school, he and I continued to get together from time to time through the years even though I'd moved over 500 miles away. I'll relate more of our adventures in the future.

The second friend on my list was met in art school, W, was a few years younger and married. We had become friends quickly and I think sensed in each other our sexual nature or interests. We began sharing erotic materials, explicit books and magazines, our own drawings, etc.

One day while I was at his house W was showing me an edition of Japanese Manga, showing me how to read it from right to left and telling and acting out the story as I sat next to him on the sofa. It wasn't an erotic work he was showing me but a futuristic adventure but sitting next to him I was overcome with a sexual spark of energy that had me nearly shaking. I felt the excitement of attraction and desire. It was all I could do to contain myself, riding out the pleasurable but confusing signals my brain was sending me and not blurt out something inappropriate.

That incident stuck out in my mind and sometime later, when he'd moved to another apartment and invited me over while his wife was away at a conference it was at the forefront of my thoughts. I think we were like magnets, magnetically drawn to the possibilities of the situation. His wife was away, we were watching a porno, and I confessed to my bisexual part, which at that time were the many occasions with my friend E and a one time anonymous encounter in a peep show. W confessed to experimenting back home when he was younger. Our talk led us to the bedroom where we shed our clothes if not our inhibitions. I was gung-ho, full steam ahead! He was open, somewhat reserved but honest enough to ultimately admit (after a good attempt) it wasn't working for him.

That's what I love about being open with someone about your sexuality, if you can trust and admit to them your previously held dark secret, communication between the two of you opens up on all levels.

Since then W and I have gotten together three other times physically, twice I dressed for him in full drag, the first an incredible afternoon burned forever in my memory. The second another "good attempt" that went the way of our first encounter. The last time the two of us got together was while he was visiting NYC and my then wife was at work. I was showing him a homemade porno my friend E and I had made with his wife (I told you there is more to that story). W dug the reality of the video and the tent in his pants proved it. He then extracted himself from his pants and began stroking himself. I was thrilled and ran to the bedroom and put on a pair of tights and heels. I returned and asked permission to finish him off. It was granted and I was on my knees. When it was over we returned to our visit in good cheer and company.

W lives somewhere in the middle of the country and now days our friendship is relegated to phone calls and e-mails. There have been a few steamy phone sex sessions since then and some surprisingly graphically written and enjoyed e-mail.

The point of all this? Im getting there. I've shared sexual experiences with people who are my friends; the friendships have endured, despite distance and time. The sexual nature of my friendship with these people has waxed and waned. When I do get together with these friends I'm always eager to share that particular aspect of our relationship. But it doesn't always happen, for whatever reason and I'm okay with that. I have to be I respect them and the choices we have to make.

When the film Brokeback Mountain was released there was a lot of coverage in the media of the story, of the two menÕs forbidden love for one another. I compare the character's experience to my own. I have had girlfriends that I truly loved, I have been married and have tried to remain faithful and struggled with my bisexual desires and have given into those secret temptations. I have come to realize that I can love and connect with a woman but there is a part of me that needs, seeks out and desires my encounters with men.

Were the protagonists of Brokeback Mountain gay? Bisexual? Does it matter what we label it? Apparently it does, because I'm still waiting to see a discussion, a report, and an admission of the bisexual undercurrent that exists in our society. I know it's there.

(To be continued.)

The Experiment

It's very hard to connect with the right person and share a sexual experience based on your individual fetish. Well, It's not really that hard, the Internet has made connecting with someone of like mind a lot easier. I remember the days when all we had were the personal ads in the back pages of the monthly tabloids on sale on the bottom shelf of certain newsstands and porno shops.

What I mean is scheduling a time and place to meet after you've placed or responded to an ad, sifted through your responses and weeded out the cave men, the ones who are too frightened to meet in person and the creepy or repulsive. You are always taking a chance. I find the quality of the writing in an e-mail is often a good judge for me. If they are willing to spend some time sharing their thoughts in written form it's a good indication I can get to know them better before we meet.

In the past five years I've gotten together with four people I've met on line, one was a disaster, it was his first time and I don't think he knew what he really wanted. One was with another gal like me with a thing for pantyhose, she was a lot of fun but hard to schedule time with. Another was a former cross-dresser and admirer who still had a thing for pantyhose and the last was another pantyhose fiend (do you see a pattern here?). Of the later three who I have nothing but good feelings towards they all responded to me with a regular photo of themselves. What I mean is, it wasnÕt of them cross-dressed or in fetish gear, it wasn't a close up of their genitals (thank goodness). They were ordinary and even slightly goofy photos and this showed me their honesty, their willingness to open up and be real with me.

Like I said before, scheduling an encounter can be a problem, we all have lives, work, family, different schedules, etc. And the folks I've gotten together with in the past have proved impossible to connect with this past year. So, eager for a date I decided to do something about it.

Just to let you know, I do not go for anonymous sex and have had only a couple of one night stands in my life. I am not promiscuous and want to be on friendly terms with the people I encounter.

A few days ago I placed an ad on craigslist.org and another on http://www.tgbeauties.com

My intention of course is to meet someone. But I thought it would be interesting to post the results of my ads here.

Well Heeled

No matter how much of a transvestite, cross-dresser or drag queen you may think you are you are't anything until you step into a pair of high-heeled shoes.

One could write a book on the social implications and ramifications of the high-heeled shoe in our society, it's history and it's impact on fashion. I don't have enough time to cover that story but I will tell you one of my own.

I remember the time period but the details have gotten sketchy with time. I had confessed my cross-dressing to my girlfriend with whom I was living. We were open and talked about it and she was very understanding. She made suggestions for make-up and wardrobe but honestly, I was interested in looking sluttier than her. Not that it was competitive in any way but she was a woman of style and beauty.

Anyway, It was a Saturday, I drove into New York City to Lee's Mardi Gras boutique over at the end of 14th Street. At Lee's you'd ring the bell at street level and then wait for the elevator and the door to open, step into the tiny elevator and rise up to the showroom floor. The people at Lee's have always been super friendly and helpful. That first time in there I was nearly overcome by the clothing, undergarment and shoe selection available to someone my size. I picked out a pair of black leather pumps with a three-inch spike heel and tried them on, of course I was wearing pantyhose beneath my jeans.

After leaving, I put them on in the car and drove home wearing them.

One night soon after that, I was anxious to give my shoes and myself a road test. My girlfriend was asleep; dead to the world. Excited by the prospect of stepping out on a warm New York night dressed in my female finery. I put on a pair of dark pantyhose a short black skirt and some kind of loose black top. With some make-up applied in the car I probably thought I looked pretty good,

I drove into Manhattan and parked on the lower east side near the Pyramid, a dance club with a reputation for being friendly to gender benders which was my intended destination. When I reached the door of the club I stopped, I didn't go in, I couldn't tell if there was a door policy and the people standing in doorway were bouncers who were ignoring me or just people standing blocking the door. I don't remember how long I stood in front of that club on Avenue A. I felt stupid, yet individually defiant; a man dressed in women's clothing at night on the sidewalk in the most famous city in the world.

At some point I changed my mind about going in (Maybe it was based on a fear of crossing some barrier that it would be just too difficult to come back from,} then I walked across the street and through Tompkin's park. Sitting on a bench, just reveling in the fact that I was wearing a skirt, pantyhose and high heels out in public. The only person who approached me was someone selling ecstasy, and he was very non-judgmental about my attire.


After sitting alone in the park for a while I felt like I needed to connect with someone or to experience some cross-dressed sexual thrill. I walked back to the car then drove to a peep show near fourteenth street and third. I walked into the peep and got barely a raised eyebrow. I carefully studied the menus of the various videos available in each booth, as if making just the right choice would assure the ultimate sexual titillation and thrill. And, upon seeing me make the right selection a handsome stranger would approach me and profess his or her own secret sexual fetish, which would mesh perfectly with my own. I went into a booth and watched a couple of bucks worth of a bisexual-cross-dressing lesbian video then walked around the nearly empty store. I left disappointed; there had been no discernable interaction with another human being recognizing how I was dressed. Walking across Third Avenue to my car a convertible full of young men drove past and yelled out "Nice Legs!" they hooted off down the Avenue.

The night wasn't yet over so I drove to another peep on Eighth Avenue near Madison Square Garden. Whenever you enter a peep the rest of the customers always look up, some kind of instinctive reflex harkening back to fight or flight and a time when places like this could still get raided. So I tried to give everyone an eyeful as I strut into the shop, my long legs in a short skirt tottering on top of high heels. The few customers that are in the store look me up and down and decide I'm not their cup of kink. Just like the last place I'd walked in to, I'm in here looking for the impossible, someone who'll share my fetish and become my friend as we get to know each other.

That really wasn't going to happen here.

I walked around the shop admiring the displays of magazines, videos and sexual devices. Feeling on display myself and reveling in that feeling. When I approached the clerk at the raised counter for video tokens he looks down at me and says with a open empathy, "Honey, get a wig!"

I drove home humbled by the experience. Brought back down to earth by a clerk in a polyester flower-print shirt and a comb-over working the overnight in a Manhattan porno shop.

I bought a wig.

Bisexuality – Part One

I can trace the awakening of my bisexuality to the eighth grade and Xarviera Hollander’s book "The Happy Hooker". In her book Ms. Hollander’s admitted attraction and sexual encounters with other girls opened my mind to the possibility of having sex with someone of the same sex. It would be three years before I’d experience sex with anyone other than myself.

It was my junior year; the previous year in an art class where we were the sole sophomores I’d met a guy with a passion for illustrated graphics and we’d become fast friends. We were both awkward and odd, he was short and outgoing, and I was tall and shy. But we were honest with each other and when he confessed to keeping muscle magazines beneath his bed for their erotic stimulation, I recalled my experiences with Ms. Hollander’s book and confessed to being curious about sex with another guy. *

The rampant homophobia in our culture at the time (high school and otherwise), the fear of being labeled a fag, the fear of actually being a fag all contributed to uneasiness about the actual act of sex between the two of us. Beyond that, we we’re both socially awkward, but he proved much braver and made the first move. At first, I would only let him touch me (classic passive aggressive, I wanted it to happen but waited for him to take action) until eventually my hunger and desire for the experience made me reach out in his direction.

And then there was the guilt after everything had been cleaned up with Kleenex ®.

It wasn’t so much guilt at having done something wrong but it was guilt associated with the shame that attended the possibility of being discovered. Ninety eight percent of my life was as a walking talking heterosexual, that no one would likely guess was experimenting sexually with his best friend. But I could imagine the life altering/threatening consequences of openly admitting to that fact. It just wasn’t done.

I lead an outwardly normal heterosexual lifestyle, pursuing girls and eventually having sex with them. But the desire to be with another man would grow or the opportunity would present itself and my friend and I would get together and then feel guilty afterward.

I didn’t necessarily struggle with my feelings, it was everyone else’s feelings that I was worried about. The rejection by family and friends was not an option so my bisexuality was hidden and it took a few years before I could come close to feeling comfortable with my bisexuality but in the end, not comfortable enough to disclose it to but a select few.

To be continued…

* Full disclosure at some future date.

The Beginning

I wonder if I was born a transvestite like gay people are born gay or if it really was the environment I grew up in that shaped my secret life? Probably, a little of both. Skipping over a large part of those formative years I’ll tell you about the first time I remember getting a thrill form wearing women’s garments.

It was in the basement, right after Halloween when I was in the eighth grade that my secret sexuality blossomed. My memory might be smoky but it’s good enough to set the order of things so they’ll lead to where I am today. Where am I today? I guess I’ll use some common labels to identify myself and keep you interested in reading further. I am a bisexual transvestite. But let’s get back to the basement and see where things went form there.

It was right after Halloween, my best friend and another of his close friends had actually started hanging out with girls after school. I was younger than them and too shy to even talk to girls. At that age I was tall and skinny, gap-toothed, I wore glasses and had a bad haircut.

Anyway, my friend and Jim had gone out trick or treating that year with Jim’s girlfriend and her close friend. My friend told me that Jim and he had dressed up as girls, for the life of me I don’t remember what the girl’s costumes might have been nor did I care.

When my friend told me about his adventure I felt cheated and jealous for several reasons, One, being that they hadn’t included me and another being that they were actually hanging out with girls. But something must have been lurking within my psyche because I was jealous for another reason as well, I remember suddenly feeling like I had been struck like a bell or that a light bulb had suddenly flashed over my head. Boys could dress up like girls.

I suppose it may have occurred to me before that boys could dress up like girls. I’m sure I’d witnessed it campily done on television at some point. But, this was someone that I actually knew, someone close to me. I remember quizzing my friend for all the details about what he wore but he wasn’t so forth coming. So, at some point I decided I had to try dressing up as a girl for myself. But when you’re an awkward adolescent where do you find the clothes?

For me it was the basement, one side of our basement was devoted to my father’s workshop and the laundry, where our families clothes hung in two rows suspended from the ceiling. It was there that I sought out an article of clothing that might fulfill this new desire to dress up like a girl.

The back rack of clothing was where off-season or out of style items were relegated to. It was here that I found a flowered sundress to suit my needs. Safely hidden in the pantry, away from prying eyes I tried the dress on, hmm, nothing. Admittedly, the dress wasn’t fashionable like the mini-skirts the girls at school were wearing nor did my bony body even come close to filling out my mothers more ample size. It hung on me like the proverbial potato sack and didn’t make me feel like a girl one bit. Besides that, there was something missing. Actually, there was a lot missing, a woman’s shape and hair, makeup, shoes and stockings… it must have been at this point that I had a minor epiphany. Mom kept her pantyhose rolled up into flesh colored balls of nylon in the bathroom closet! I could borrow a pair and try them on with the dress and see if it worked better, see if that made me feel girlier.

I snuck a pair of Mom’s hose into my pants and then down into the basement, I carefully slipped them on and then the dress, it was then that I discovered that accessories were everything. Standing there in the purloined pantyhose and dress I felt a rush of excitement, this is what I had been hoping for. A moment when dressed as a girl (in a fashion) I felt beautiful. I’m rather glad there was no mirror in the pantry because I imagine the sight of me didn’t match the image I had in my head and might have discouraged me from ever trying this again.

As it was, I could only feel beautiful, it would be many years before I felt comfortable enough in my own cross dressing wardrobe to actually feel confidant that I could actually look beautiful.

Proof

Well, If you’ve stumbled across this blog and you’ve read my claim to being an erotic illustrator I thought I should prove it.

These two images are carefully cropped fragments of larger, more explicit images. They were created using a 2H pencil, Windsor Newton series 7 brushes and Dr, Ph. Martin’s dyes. And yes, I used photo reference, one of which was a self-portrait.

By the way images are copyright 2007 Miss M

An Introduction

Hello, I am Miss M. I describe myself as a bisexual transvestite. I'm an painter illustrator who specializes in erotic imagery and I have an almost overpowering fetish for black pantyhose.

I intend to use this blog to create a wider presence on the web for my artwork and as an outlet for my mental musings on related subjects.