As Rose would gladly testify from beyond her Hampstead grave, there are many women who find crossdressing not only acceptable, but also an exciting turn on. Seeing a man put a cute pair of panties on, fasten a bra, and then slide into a sweater and jeans, all the time knowing that this is a statement of adoration for the female form is something many women appreciate as a deeply personal display of trust from their partner.
It’s rather like saying, “Look, here I am. I willingly shed the trappings of masculinity, and adopt the more constrained and gentle appearance and values associated with the feminine side of myself. More than that, I am trusting you with this. I am laying myself bare before you as few men can have the courage to do. I am doing this in adoration of you and that part of myself that society has forced me to stifle.
And I do so, willingly, with trust and show you my true self.”
I smiled to myself as Sylvester offered me a biscuit, and I took one.
“I think that those women that really understand it realise this is something beyond some sexual titillation. It’s something very deep.”
“What,” said Sylvester, “seeing a guy dress up?”
He really can be a philistine.
“No, Sylvester,” I said. “Seeing a man demonstrate that he really trusts his partner. Really trusts her. So much so, he can reveal this side of himself to her. He is exposing himself at the most intimate level.”
Sylvester grunted, and as he was about to speak I held up a hand to stop him.
“Before you say anything about exposing yourself, I will tell you just this. A woman when exposed to trust and intimacy of this nature will respond very much more positively than when exposed to some,” I inwardly cringed as I said it, “ ‘cock pic’ sent to her on snapchat.”
Sylvester looked a little crestfallen, then said, “Who told you!”
I frowned at Sylvester.
“Urgh,” I said. “No one told me anything. Why do men do that? Really… I mean, why would anyone?”
“I don’t know. It’s just sort of expected by some women,” said Sylvester.
“No it is not. Do you think we’ve never seen that before?”
“It was just the once. Besides, Amanda didn’t even comment on it.”
I was shocked and said, “You sent Amanda that? Really?”
“I had a bit to drink, and…” his voice trailed off.
“I have no desire to hear what you send to my wife’s friends. But either way I believe she’s up to her,” I paused and then continued,”… up to her elbows in her relationship with Marjory now.”
As if on cue Marjorie, my neighbour, stepped out to the back garden and made her way to the fence.
“Hello,” she gaily called. “How are you, Fiona.”
“Ah, Marjory, you must come and join us,” I said and watched Sylvester cringe. “Sylvester is just about to top up this tea and get you a cup. Come and join us.”
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