I often crept into her room and tried on her lingerie. I found the silky materials to bevery desirable and could never figure out why boys weren't allowed the pleasure and girls were. The three or four times she caught me at my play or deduced from the rearrangement of her dresser drawers that I had been in there, we had a horrible scene. She made me feel as though I had done something really terrible. And that just heightened the intrigue of things female for me.

Just after Christmas the year of my twelfth birthday my father was in a very serious auto accident and had to be hospitalized for several weeks. My Grandmother and her best friend, Abby, cam to stay with us and help out. Mom was working fulltime and was spending all her evenings and weekends at the hospital with Dad.

My Grandmother took over the household, par­ticularly my teenage brothers, and Abby took me and my six year old sister under her wing. The first night she was with us she had us put our nightclothes on right after dinner was over and met us in the family room with a huge stack of books. She was wearing a dressing gown of dark blue satin, the kind we'd call very Victorian today. I was used to terry cloth, and was completely captivated by this billowing, lacy soft garment. Aunt Abby, as we called her, took my sister and me, one on each side of her, and sat on the couch reading stories and talking with us until bed time. She was totally at ease with us, and was the first adult I had ever met who was. (Children usually know exactly what you are thinking and feeling, and whether or not you are telling the truth, lying, or merely not telling all of the truth.)

As she read to us, I put my arm around her waist, and was nearly electrocuted by what I found! Her waist was very small, and it was as hard as a tree-trunk!! As she snuggled my sister and me closer to her so she could explain the pictures in the storybook better, I discovered that even her breasts were firm and unyielding.

I didn't know what to make of it. Nothing in my experience could explain what I had discovered, and as I lay in bed that night I can remember pondering over and over what could be there. I had never been so aroused (in a childlike sense) in my whole life.

Each night Abby read to us on the couch, dressed in her beautiful satin robe, and each night I put my arm around her waist and explored my new discovery. But I couldn't answerthe questions racing through my head.

About a week went by and one Saturday, at lunch, my little sister asked the question I hadn't dared to (but she was six and it was alright). "Aunt Abby, why is your waist so small and hard?" "Well, honey," she answered, "that's because I wear a corset."

A Corset! I had heard the word but had never really known what it meant. The word roller over and over in my mind, as my sister then asked, "But why do you wear one; my Mommy doesn't."

Abby explained that when she was a little girl her Mother wore a corset, as did most of the other mothers. Her mother taught her to wear a corset, just as our mother taught us to wear underclothes. "And besides," she added, "I like my corsets; they feel very good to me."

I could tell that my sister was about to drop the subject and I had so manymore questions, so I blurted out, "What does a corset look like, Aunt Abby?"

"I'll tell you what," she replied, "tonight after dinner, when we all put on our nightclothes, I'll show you my corset." I was ecstatic. I was probably too old to be treated the way Abby did, but the children were sort of lumped into two groups at this troubled time for our family, and I just didn't fit into the active lives of my teenage brothers, so I was grouped with my little sister and treated accordingly.

The rest of the day really dragged by. I thought dinner was going to go on forever. But finally the appointed hour arrived and I was in my pajamas and bathrobe, waiting at the door to the guest room longer

bathrobe, waiting at the door to the guest room long before Abby and my sister got there.

I don't have the foggiest recollection of what kind of dress Abby was wearing; 1 can't even recall what her slip was like. But the scene that transpired when she pulled the slip over her head is burned into my memory in 3-D panavision and technicolor.

She was wearing pink silk knickers (which she called bloomers) that came to just above her knees, ending in gathered lace; her shoulders were covered by a pink silk camisole with lacy cap sleeves and little buttons that came up to the base of her throat. 

And in between the two there was the corset. It was of deep pink satin; it reached from low on her hips to well above her breasts in front and high above her shoulder blades in back. It was embroidered with red silk and had red laces. It was magnificent. Even my sister was enthralled.

After she turned around several times and let us touch the corset and feel the knickers, she went over to her dresser and got out her nightgown and then to the closet for her dressing gow. She was a little surprised to see that we were both still staring at her. Her amused laugh broke the spell and I asked her, "How does it work?"

"You know the pullies you were playing with out in the garage?" she asked. "Well, my corset works the same way, only instead of trying to lift something, my corset makes my waist smaller and my shape prettier." To demonstrate, she turned around and undid the knotted laces and loosened the corset two or three inches; then, using quite a lot of strength, tightened them again. Before she quit, she loosened them, leaving the corset about two inches open in the back.

I asked her, "Why didn't you pull the sides together again?" to which she replied that she liked to wear her corset at night, under her nightgown, but that she always loosened it a little "To let my tummy relax."

Her nightgown, too, was something of a revelation to me, who was used to seeing only cotton and terrycloth. It was made of yards and yards of billowy nylon, with huge full sleeves and a high neck. This one was light blue with dark blue embroidery and white lace. Then came the satin dressing gown, and I was so wound up in the whole scene that it played through my mind continuously for days.

Another week went by, during which I stole into Abby's room several times to look at her corsets and underwear. She had six corsets in all; two white ones, the pink one, a light blue one, and two black ones. All were of satin, and all were the same incredible quality. I just couldn't get her corsets, knickers and nightowns out of my mind. Our reading sessions on the couch in the family room every night just fired my passion: I had to know how it felt to wear those incredible, beautiful garments!!

I was on the verge of trying them on myself, but I just couldn't find an opportunity when Abby and Grand­mother were out of the way long enough for me to be sure of not getting caught.

I was about to the limit of my frustration tolerance when the subject of corsets was brought up by my sister. "Why did ladies wear corsets when you were little, and they mostly don't now?" she wanted to know. "To begin with," said Abby, "it wasn't just ladies who used to wear corsets all the time. Men did, too. Matter of fact, my Father wore one all his life, just as Mother did. And I have a brother who still wears a corset, though not every day." That seemed to satisfy my sister, but the idea that men actually wore corsets electrified me.

I couldn't suppress the question that had been consuming me like unquenchable fire: "Could I see what it's like to wear a corset?"

As soon as I asked it, I regretted it. In an instant I was consumed with fear and memories of the terrible things my mother had said to me and would now say to me again; thoughts of the trouble I had just gotten myself into. But I didn't have time to worry long. Abby didn't pause more than a second or two before she smiled and said, "Certainly. We'll do it tonight after dinner, since your sister is going with your Mother to the hospital and won't be here for our reading time."

Fortunately dinner was ready in only a short time, and I didn't have to wait all through a long interminable day like the previous Saturday. After dinner was cleared and the dishes done, Mom and sister left for the hospital and Abby and I headed for her room.

Abby was asmall woman, only afoot taller than I was at the time. My shoulders and hips were at least as wide as hers. She closed the door and said, "Do you want just a corset, or shall we put you in bloomers and a camisole, too?" "Both, please," was my breathless reply. "My father wore silk underwear, though not as frilly as this," Abby explained while helping me into the white silk garments she had selected. In spite of being a little too long for me, her underwear fit pretty well.

She chose one of the white corsets: "This one is not as long as the others and it will probably fit you better." 

I'll never forget how well it did fit and the incredible sensations of well-being, comfort, security and wonderfulness that filled me as she laced it snug. While some of the memories have faded, being tight-laced still gives me that superior set of sensations, as nothing else can.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked, guiding me over in front of the mirror. It was wonderful. She added, "See, it isn't as horrible as people think it is." Horrible, indeed. After walking around in the corset for a few minutes, while Abby changed into her nightgown, she asked me if I wanted to take it off now.

Well, I didn't; not at all. So I asked, "Could I sleep in it, like you do?" Abby gave me a strange look, and then quickly said, "Of course you can." Without another word she got one of her superb nightgowns out of the drawer and put it over my head, buttoning it up to my neck. We went out into the family room and instead of reading I asked her to tell me about her brother, the one who still wore corsets, and what things were like when she was little. We had a wonderful talk.

When bedtime arrived I was reluctantto go, but Abby insisted. Before I got into bed she stopped me, lifted up the nightgown in back and tightened the laces a little. I felt with my fingers and discovered that the corset was open about three inches. It didn't hurt at all, so I asked her if she would tighten it and she did a little. While finishing with the laces she said, "I'm tying the laces in a good knot which you won't be able to get undone. If you want to get out of the corset in the night, come and knock on my door and I'll let you out."

"Fat chance," I though to myself. I was in ecstasy. I had never felt so wonderful in my life. I wanted to stay in the corset and lingerie forever.

The next day was Saturday. My brothers were off somewhere and Mom and Grandmother had taken my sister to catch up on the shopping and errands. Abby let me sleep late, which I needed to do, since I had been up very very late enjoying my new garments. When she took the nightgown off, I begged to be allowed to keep the corset on. Abby reluctantly agreed. (The knickers had a split crotch so toilet duties weren't a problem.)

Grandmother and Abby were with us for another eight weeks after that. I wore the corset every night and all day most Saturdays and Sundays. The smaller white corset had a pretty flat bust, and it didn't show up under my clothes. It was a real deprivation when Abby took it away from me to be dry cleaned, but she mostly accomplished the task while I was at school.

Those eight weeks were super. But they ended. Abruptly. One night I heard a very heated discussion upstairs. My sister, whose room was closer to the stairway than mine, came into my room and said, "You'd better take off Aunt Abby's things; Mommy is really angry!"

I got them off and into Abby's room before Mom came downstairs. She walked into my room and threw off my covers. All she found was me and my cotton pajamas and I don't know if she was frustrated or relieved. She didn't say anything, but gave me one of her "horrible" looks, and then walked out and closed the door. Abby left the following morning, and I've never seen or heard from her again. My grandmother died a couple of years later, and no one I've talked to since has had any idea where Abby lived or how to get in touch with her. The subject is absolutely taboo in my family to this day.

My "girlness" went into remission for a couple of years after that. I was too afraid of the consequences to attempt anything.

When I got a job in my fourteenth year I started putting aside a little money each week to spend on girl things. I mostly used the Sears catalog, and my best friend's address. He never suspected anything and I never told him anything. While in high school I spent nearly every night in a nightgown and girdle. I grew pretty adept at hiding my stuff. I only had one bad time with Mother, which I'll tell you about later. We had some other grim scenes and I gradually started living in two worlds, theirs and mine. I still do.

My biggest frustration was (and still is) that I couldn't find corsets like Abby's. In fact, for a long time, I couldn't find corsets at all. Girdles provided some tightness, but not like a corset. I had to wear several girdles all at once to get anywhere near the tightness I wanted.

During high school I also discovered that I liked bondage. It was something I had to do completely alone, for obvious reasons, but I got to be pretty good at "solo." I especially liked sleeping bound, but had to be really careful that I didn't get caught at it. It was bad enough trying to keep my nightly attires a secret.

I did outstanding academically during high school and this took the pressure off me. My parents were so excited about my accomplishments at school that they tended to ignore my other "problem," and after my last big disaster of getting caught during my junior year, they quit asking about it, quit looking for it, and pretended that my girl world didn't exist, which was the second best thing they could have done for me at the time.

I got into a really good college, but had to live in a dorm with roommates the whole time. There just as no opportunity to indulge in my girl world. I plunged into my studies, did well, graduated, went into the Air Force, and lived a pretty "straight" life.

During high school I met a girl I really liked. We grew to love each other intensely. We had really great and deep communication, and I thought that I would be able to get her to understand my female part if I approached the subject slowly and carefully. She didn't. The revelation to her was a shock and she couldn't accept it. I loved her so much that for a while I thought I could give up my "other world," and was into a successful "remission" for a long time. But unless there is some way I don't know about, there isn't any way to permanently suppress the strong dose of girlness that I was born with.

I still love and and will stay with her no matter what. I still have hope that someday we'll be able to share my second world. I'm making slow progress in that direction, and will have to keep it slow for now. I am completely heterosexual, and don't really fancy having sex with anyone but her.

So I live in two worlds. I have come to be pretty successful in my profession, enough so that I can afford the two worlds. I have my own business, and am planning to open another office in a distant city that my wife finds much more attractive than where we live now. I plan to move my family there within a year, and then will be much more able to maintain my girl world here in this city. I'll have to spend every other week up here at this office, so I'll have that much time alone each month to indulge my girlness unrestricted and without fear of "discovery."

I love to wear corsets and lingerie. I change into female underwear every morning when I get to the office, and remove them before going home at night. Many nights I come back to the office after dinner to work; then I can lock the door and get really dressed for a few hours. 

I have a very heavy beard and can't pass easily for a woman on the street, so my ventures outside are limited to night hours and lonely walks. I live in a pretty cool place (meteorologically speaking) and can wear hats, veils and coats to further deter recognition, for most of the year.

I get to do a little business travel now and again, and can usually get in an extra day or two for myself. My wife likes to travel and to visit her family, so I get one or two weeks by myself a couple of times a year. And when the desire really gets bad, I will steal a day, check into a motel early in the morning and leave about dinner time, after making appropriate excuses for not calling home during the day.

I've become accustomed to my two worlds, as it is the only alternative available to me at present. I'm glad to find others who share my interests; it will make things much more interesting for me and not nearly so depressing at times. I'd love to correspond and exchange pictures and ideas with anyone. Someday it would be really super to arrange a weekend of genuine bondage, if the conditions and people were just right. (Solo bondage is better than no bondage, but unless you are really helpless, the kick just isn't there.)

If your girlness is really a secret, I understand, probably better than anyone else. In my profession, if my second world were discovered, it would destroy my "normal" world completely; maybe even mean jail. So I developed my girl identity, including drivers license and credit cards, and even a job (Jennifer has done a lot of consulting work for some of my other clients, and gotten paid handsomely, too.) The name came from one of my more elaborate fantasies about a strict Victorian girls school whose headmistress was Dr. Jennifer Blackwell. I'll just bet that some of you have been to that school (in your minds). Its name is Claremont and it is located on the moors in Northern England.

Or how about Indro? I know some of you have been there. That is a planet closer in to the center of our galaxy, ruled by Feb, Imperial Duke, whose wives are locked in the most devilish devices to protect their bodies from being touched by any male besides the Duke, except when they are in the huge vault inside the impregnable harem, where they are free of restraints. For an extremely large sum of money, I sold myself into slavery dressed as a beautiful woman, Lysette, to be the personal maid to Jedra, favorite wife of Feb (and therefore most carefully protected). With my exquisite corsets, lingerie and skillful makeup, none of the Imperial guards ever suspected, and Jedra was kept extremely well satisfied, sexually.

Now that I know there are some of you out there who might be interested in hearing my fantasies, I shall set about to write them down and submit them to Centurians. Perhaps you should do the same. If I have been to such remarkable places in my fantasies, I am very anxious to go with you into your secret worlds. With the help of a good illustrator we could all go on some very very wonderful trips together. Maybe we could even turn some of our stories into screen plays for Centurian to turn into movies and/or videotapes for us.

Don't wait; do it now.

Regards,

Jennifer