Crossdressers-Haven.com

In the mid-60s, at age 15, I was fascinated by all the stockings, slips, garters and so on I glimpsed on the girls at school - as well as what the garments decorated and concealed.

I babysat the child of an attractive friend of the family, so one night I wondered what her lingerie looked like. Soon, I was wearing her girdle and stockings. I loved it and soon bought some stockings at a porn store in Times Square and, very nervously, a garter belt from a lingerie store in my neighborhood. That was my start.

An interesting aspect of this event came to light years later. Evidently, the woman whose girdle so turned me on and changed my life had sex with Fidel Castro! I'll tell the story if there's interest.

Unlikely, but still it's possible I wore a girdle Fidel Castro removed from a lover.

LOL,

michele

It does sound interesting. Our world can be that small and, oddly enough, there seems to be a grain of truth in every story, no matter how far fetched the story might seem.

Michele, I love a good story!

Andrea

All right, Andrea, here goes.

All participants are currently dead, except Fidel, of course.

Beverly was my stepmother Betsy's best friend from college and they remained friends for the rest of their lives. Beverly became a reporter and, in the brief period between the successful conclusion of the Cuban Revolution and the diplomatic break with the US, got an assignment to go to Cuba and interview Castro. (I'm not sure this is relevant to her getting this assignment, but Beverly, my family, and Castro all lived in the west 80s of Manhattan - Castro once attended Columbia University.)

Before Beverly left for Cuba, Betsy demanded, "If you get close to that man, you have to tell me how the beard feels." Some nights later, Betsy was awakened by the phone. A voice said, "It tickles." It was Beverly, calling from Cuba with deep background that never made it to print.

That much of the story I knew in my teens, when I lived with Dad and Betsy.

As time went on, Beverly developed anorexia. The last time I saw her, her beauty was long gone and she looked like a skeleton, unfortunately.

Dad and Betsy moved to Tucson and Beverly planned to join them, selling her condo in Manhattan and buying a beautiful one in Tucson. Unfortunately, she died before she could move there. In her will, she left the Tucson property to her autistic son to rent as part of his support, with the proviso that my parents could live there rent free as long as they wished. This generosity greatly improved the quality of my parents' lives in their last years.

Dad and Betsy's son Peter, his wife and I visited them in Tucson one Christmas. My stepmother, suffering from emphysema, was out on the back porch, several feet away behind a screen door, smoking. Peter and his wife and I were in the kitchen when he reminded me of the Fidel story. But he added more.

"Yeah," he said, "but did you know Fidel took Beverly on a 10 day vacation to Venezuela?"

"You're kidding."

"No, it happened."

I thought this was one of the best things I ever heard. I whooped and hollered, "Beverly bubbles Fidel! Beverly bubbles Fidel!"

In comes Betsy, defending her dead friend, eyes googling, smoke oozing from her nostrils, total dragon lady. "That's not true! That's not true!"

But later Pete and I agreed that he didn't take the beautiful blonde gringa away just so she could ask him more questions about living rough in the Sierra Madre.

That's the story. You, dear, will make up your mind whether it's adequate evidence to conclude Beverly and Fidel were lovers or not.

Enjoyed the story. My how times have changed.

Leeza

You tell that story in a way that I find very believable.

And, with only Fidel left to prove or disprove... A "latin" lover turning down a fling with a beautiful woman, now that I would find hard to believe!

Thank you, Michele, for the story. I read it twice!

Andrea

Long before it was even sexual I had a fetish for nylon stockings. Growing up in a one bathroom home left my mothers stockings hanging on the bathroom towel rods and in the hamper. It was a safe haven to wear her nylons, but with never enough time. I remember not feeling well one school day morning, and my mother felt I was old enough to stay home by my self. (I was about 12) As I heard her car drive off to work my heart was pounding in my chest. Soon I was standing in front of her full length bedroom mirror dressed in her sheerest RHT stockings, satin front and rear panel open bottom girdle and her highest stiletto heels. My ankles were shaking as I tried to walk in them with the garters tugging and pulling on the stocking welts. The swish sound of the stockings with every step was magic. I put on a short nylon slip and lifted just high enough to see the dark stockings tops. I tried on every pair of heels my mother owned as I would be also sitting crossing and uncrossing my legs, dangling the high heels to see the dark nylon heel reinforcements. The look and feeling of wearing those nylons, garters and high heels made me weak in the knees….I was badly hooked for ever more!

That is a beautiful discription of a great feeling.

Leeza

Michele, you write a good story!

Thanks to everyone who responded. I'm glad you found this bit of family history entertaining.

Michele

More early beginnings....

I remember one summer vacation my older brother had gone on a trip with my grandmother back east for two weeks. I had the whole house to myself. I did not even sleep that first night at the thoughts. I was shaking with thoughts of dressing into my mothers things as soon as I knew she was away and off to work.

Back in the early to mid 60's most women wore tan or brown nylons, which my mother also wore , but she also had a large supply of dark hosiery as she also wore lots of black tinted nylons.

We had a huge bay window in our front room that always got the morning sun. I would turn the blinds just so that the room filled with morning sunlight. I LOVED to walk down the hallway with my mothers spiked heel mules slapping at my nylon soles, garters tugging at my stocking welts from that snug open bottom girdle. I would just stand in that room for a moment and look. The sunlight would just jump off the satin front girdle panels and my black stockings would gleam, the sheen of the ultra sheer nylons would almost dance with every movement.

I was captured at the sight of it all as I would sit and cross my legs over and over in the morning sun and feel the beautiful lingerie on me.....a great beginning to a day.

I was probably around 10 years old. My sister and I were playing and I saw some clip on earrings. Well....I couldn't resist. When no one was around, I put them on! I was hooked! So I've gone from sneaking around wearing my moms earrings to full head to toe 'drag'.

Well I was going to make this a new post but it fits in nicely with most recent ones.

The first time I can remember was when I was about 8 or 9, it’s as clear in my mind as if it was yesterday . I remember that I was fascinated in what girls wore and I was with the girl from next door who was the same age as me, and I came straight out and asked her if I could try her clothes on , she replied with some thing to the effect of ’lets swap’. So that’s what we did, in her dad’s shed. I’ll never, never forget how good it felt to be fully dressed in girls clothes for the first time, I was so lost in a world of my own that the fact that she was in mine didn’t seem to register. We stayed like that for maybe only 10 minutes I think, then we got scared someone might catch us so we change back.(Sad moment). We never did it again but that 10 minutes or so had a life time effect on me and when I was thinking of a name for myself her’s was the name I chose.
Thanks Jane even though you would never have thought of what it would mean for me in later years.

X Jane