Fantasy I Wrote to My Shrink
by Travis T. Dykeman

Depending on circumstances, things develop directly or indirectly. Maybe the subject comes up because, after all, this is a gathering of fetishists. Maybe there's a playful conversation: putting Barbie's clothes on Ken,
talk of favorite gender-bender films like "Sylvia Scarlett" and "Some Like it Hot", to more current examples like "To Wong Foo..." Maybe the talk is literary: Lord Byron's Don Juan dressing as a woman to hide in a harem, only to be sought after by an assertive lesbian. Maybe talk about Ed Wood centers more on his lifestyle of
wearing angora sweaters than on his movies.

Depending on where we are, she slips off her silky panties, perhaps in front of me, or in a bathroom. If we are in a private situation, the panties are handed to me like a gift (which they are); if we are in public, the material is folded like a handkerchief.  "Please put them on . . . now", she whispers, but it is really a command. She knows the sensation I feel wearing her panties is different than wearing a pair I bought at a store. 

It takes a litte time, but I learn to trust her completely with my secret self.  Boundaries are pushed. I learn about make-up, I admit to enjoying applying mascara. If she wears size 16 clothing, then she can dress me from her own wardrobe.  If not, we go shopping. I try on leather and vinyl outfits at certain stores. For more traditional clothing, like a black velvet dress, "We're shopping for a friend". 

Shoes are a problem. I convince here that I'll have to wear low heels, or walk very slowly.  She shaves my body, no easy task. She knows I adore the feeling of hosiery on my legs. At first she dresses me in private, but one day decides to show me off in public, at special places:  fetish parties to start, and eventually nights out dancing at a lesbian club.  She enjoys sliding her hands under my dress as we dance tightly with each other.  But I realize I am no competition to her in her silk shirt, black leather mini-skirt, and high heels.

During the times when our love-making is ritualized, I go down on her, licking her pussy like a ravenous animal.  Sometimes we rub our crotches against each other, while I continue wearing nylons and panties.  Sometimes no rituals of dress or gender are involved. We are two bodies in the dark, celebrating love as a mixture of hot flesh and hot liquids. It is during these times I may be permitted to come on her, or perhaps in her. I love exploring her body with my tongue and tasting the streams of her sweat. She may even delicately take my penis into her mouth, the feeling both tickles and soothes, a moment to be savored, as it is her pleasure that is primary.

Finally we just lie in near silence, ejoying the sound of each other breathing. She teases me about being the least attractive, but most adoring of her girlfriends.  She caresses my cock and adds, "but it's also nice sometimes to have a man in the house."

Copyright © 2000 Travis T. Dykeman. All rights reserved.
 
 

Copyright © 2000 Mind Caviar. All rights reserved. Mind Caviar is a trademark of Two Blondes Productions.