Epiphany

My girlfriend Tonya was out of town for the weekend. She was meeting some college friends and going shopping and carousing in the city. A typical girls' weekend. I kissed her good bye at about 4:30 pm on Friday. We had become pretty close in the year that we had been dating. She was a cute blonde with the lithe athletic build I loved so much. We also got along so well. We were like drinking pals that enjoyed sex together. I knew that I was lucky to have her.

Yet as close as we had become I couldn't bring myself to tell her my biggest secret. Whenever my girlfriend was out of town for any length of time I engaged in my favorite pastime. I was addicted to dressing as a woman. I would even be so bold as to take drives around town dressed up.

I know I have one hell of a fucked up pastime. Yet like so many unbreakable habits I had started young. My senior year in high school I had found some porno magazines in a neighbor's garbage. I hid them in an old tree house I had built in the yard. The magazines all had pictures of men dressed as women. One in particular had affected me, it had a pictorial that started out with an absolutely stunning woman posing in a formal evening gown. Slowly, page after page she stripped down until she was standing there in only her pantyhose and high heels. I turned the page and saw the next picture. She was standing there holding an enormous erection that she had slipped out from a slit in her nylons. To me she was still too beautiful to be anything but a woman, even with a cock. Until I saw the next picture. She was actually a he. The man had been wearing a wig and he was standing there holding it in his hand. He was smiling into the camera as if to say he knew he had fooled everyone, especially me. There was even a picture of him in the front pages of the magazine dressed as a man. An average looking man! I was blown away. How could an otherwise masculine man become that beautiful?

I began to experiment with myself. It started with my mother's closet and progressed onto the women I baby sat for. When I was alone I got into the stockings and garters and anything else that would make me look like a woman. Now at 31 I had developed the expertise and moxie to pass as a full blown woman. I had gotten so good at make up that when I dressed, the only outward sign of manhood was my voice.