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Yes, it’s true. I dream and fantasize about wearing ladies’ clothes. I hunger for it and love it at.the same time. The extremely sexy and the exciting thrill come into play at the same moment.

There are times when I promise myself I’ll never do. it again, only to find myself applying makeup and putting on panties, nylons, bra, slip, dress and wig to experience once more the exquisite delights of feminine magic.

When I am dressed, my every pore and nerve ending is aware of the silken world surrounding my body. The scent of perfume lingers in the air. The long, flowing hair of my wig cascades over my exposed shoulders. The creamy-smooth lipstick accentuates my pouting lips. The sensuous, silky panties surround my manhood. The nylons hug my legs, and the body-hugging strapless slip feels sensuous with every step. The lace-edged bra announces pert little breasts. The high heels emphasize my pretty legs and hug my panty-clad lower body parts; I look real fine.

As I admire myself, my manhood swells and rises within its silk sheath. The lightest stimulation will set off a torrent of release. I turn to the left and then to the right in front of the mirror. My cock is rock-hard. Pre-come has begun to drip. I lie down on the bed, my back and head supported by oversize pillows. I can see myself in the mirror as I close my eyes and fantasize about the perfect woman who could enjoy my cross-dressing as much as I do.

I envision her feminine body, her beautiful face, her understanding smile as she helps me into the satin, petticoats me and helps me as well as herself to attain new heights of sexual pleasure. If she were here I would do anything for her. She would be my mistress, my mentor, my conduit to feminine identification. She could dress me or love me.

Alas, I know it’s only a dream, yet I can live the dream vicariously through letters written to your fine magazine. I can always hope that just around the corner is the understanding woman who will allow me to truly soar.

To your women readers I can only say, don’t dismiss us lightly. We are male to the core. We are gentle, understanding, intelligent and loving. The man you all say you want is available; he will love you, care for you and fill your life with pleasure, and all he wants in return is your love and understanding, and the thrilling chance to wear your favorite dress.

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Understanding My Needs

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Yes, it’s true. I dream and fantasize about wearing ladies’ clothes. I hunger for it and love it at.the same time. The extremely sexy and the exciting thrill come into play at the same moment.

There are times when I promise myself I’ll never do. it again, only to find myself applying makeup and putting on panties, nylons, bra, slip, dress and wig to experience once more the exquisite delights of feminine magic.

When I am dressed, my every pore and nerve ending is aware of the silken world surrounding my body. The scent of perfume lingers in the air. The long, flowing hair of my wig cascades over my exposed shoulders. The creamy-smooth lipstick accentuates my pouting lips. The sensuous, silky panties surround my manhood. The nylons hug my legs, and the body-hugging strapless slip feels sensuous with every step. The lace-edged bra announces pert little breasts. The high heels emphasize my pretty legs and hug my panty-clad lower body parts; I look real fine.

As I admire myself, my manhood swells and rises within its silk sheath. The lightest stimulation will set off a torrent of release. I turn to the left and then to the right in front of the mirror. My cock is rock-hard. Pre-come has begun to drip. I lie down on the bed, my back and head supported by oversize pillows. I can see myself in the mirror as I close my eyes and fantasize about the perfect woman who could enjoy my cross-dressing as much as I do.

I envision her feminine body, her beautiful face, her understanding smile as she helps me into the satin, petticoats me and helps me as well as herself to attain new heights of sexual pleasure. If she were here I would do anything for her. She would be my mistress, my mentor, my conduit to feminine identification. She could dress me or love me.

Alas, I know it’s only a dream, yet I can live the dream vicariously through letters written to your fine magazine. I can always hope that just around the corner is the understanding woman who will allow me to truly soar.

To your women readers I can only say, don’t dismiss us lightly. We are male to the core. We are gentle, understanding, intelligent and loving. The man you all say you want is available; he will love you, care for you and fill your life with pleasure, and all he wants in return is your love and understanding, and the thrilling chance to wear your favorite dress.

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