I love the fact of being vulnerable, to the point of been striped of all protection, of all safety net. The fact of being dressed-up as a woman is the surest manner to obtain that kind of kick. Some people get their ‘kick’ differently such as gambling or others unhealthy or dangerous occupations, but dressing-up is very healthy, and for many reasons, such as the incessant artful research of perfection in the character of the ‘girls’ choice.
The girl, the woman, the femme must research being seductive to a man or to several men at all moments. Those males must want you as a female, regardless of the conditions, be them in the cosy bedroom, a cocktail party, an abandon ruin or even a biker’s bar. The game played is seduction, with all the power and trick the center of attraction may concentrate on ‘herself’. Without the intent of either mating with a brute of your own choice, or being cajoled by a wealthy dorlotine sugar-daddy, the game is blend without that, it is tasteless without those decisive intentions to seduce. This is my Secret Desire: it is being on the edge between win or lose. If you win, the reward is bliss, and if you lose, the accessories such as lace and lingerie, adorable polka-dot blouse-dress, painted nails and make-up becomes a tag for becoming the target of cruel ridicule and or raw meat at the mercy of a pack of animals. The high-heels, or the girly mules must be a part of the necessary rubrics in order to increase the vulnerability of the cross-dresser.
I personally can’t think of more sure manner to get to dress-up as you girls in order to reach to the Secret Desire, which is no secret at all, to all men.
This Desire of mine of seducing at all cost adapts according to the situations brings me to that edge. My only ‘defense weapon’ in that risky game is that very seduction that I have used. I cite an example, which may shock. I am thin bone Caucasian with blue eyes. Finding once myself living and working among colored men & women, I became conscientious that being white (knowingly recognized as beta-male if not as feminine-boy by that community) became an attribute. I had secret desires of being gang-banged by those negroes. Yes! dear sisters, I got wet at that though, which I prudently refrained.
Well, in that same set, one day, I nearly got it good in those ‘Secret Desires’. It was a set-up (I already told the story on an other comment section) for a gang-rape. I found myself in the most precarious situation. Stuck with the impossibility of driving away, I was sharing a motel bedroom with a co-worker. He was, you guess right, a big black guy. I felt secure with him however. His girl-friend was known to me, while still never trying to associate with the ‘white sissy’. It is when I was taking a bath. While soaking, that I realized that my roommate was texting, and calling. By that moment, nude in my bathtub, I felt the knot in my guts. I got away through that precarious situation through that very same will to seduce, but it was a close call. This is how I did it. I played the ‘sweet little bitty Daisy’, that is draping with what I had on hand, that is a bath towel of the motel. I covered in a way as to make it an ‘adorable’ micro-mini. I was completely nude with the edge of my ‘desirable’ secret leaving not much to his imagination. While avoiding to look at him in the eyes, as a sign of sweet submission, I played the fragile ‘woman’. I did some prudent poses as to make him think that I could be his sweetheart, and not “his bitch as well as the bitch of the gang”, under the condition that he declares himself clearly to me. There were no words exchanged, while he was texting, as well as surely uploading my pictures of me totally at ‘their’ mercy entrapped in the motel room room of a giant truck-stop of Louisiana. He was wanking under his baggy pants to add-up to the critical situation.
I went to bed, while tossing away the only ‘clothing’ I had, that is the wet towel, making him understand that he could have me totally for himself for a night of pleasure. I was ‘waiting’ for him. He did not say anything, and I know why: the gang was waiting outside. He left suddenly, and after few minutes, returned alone all suddenly, but I was feigning sleeping. I could not ‘sleep’ because my heart was beating fast, fast. I was dead scared. He even listen to my heartbeat by kneeling at the side of my bed. He must have known that I could not be sleeping with such a racing heartbeat. He stayed awhile, at looking down to my “cute white fem-boy face”. What was he thinking? He then lean again and gave me a soft kiss on the lips, and then left the room again towards the parking lot. Was he talking out-the gang to penetrate the room? Was he becoming my ‘bodyguard’ preserving my chastity from the gang-rape? Did I ‘seduce’ in making him think that he could have me all by myself? In all case he returned alone “without the gang and likely their women who did not care for the white sissy”. I could have been hurt. It was a matter of basic preservation instinct.
He did not go in his bed all night, but remained on the arm-chair where I had seen him texting, sending pictures and wanking. I confess that I wish I had made love to him. My fair sin dressing my thin-bone body been ravished by that massive black man and my secret delicate inside been penetrated by the big thing I had glanced from under his baggy pair of pants became a ‘Secret Desire’, but I did not let that happen. I truly had been very scared. It was a close call, and I honestly should have been deserving that almost certain damage and tearing’s and pains on my body of cute ‘girl’, besides the humiliations of being posted on the internet by the real girls of the gang.
This one secret desire which did not fulfilled. The next morning my roommate, semi-seriously offered one of his clean tee-shirt, since my unique clothing was still damp, “as a mini shirt before going through the truck-stop parking lot”.
I left the region a few days later. I hear that my roomate went in a fight with others after my departure. Truly, I was naughty at that time at ‘seducing whatever the situation’