An Australian Admirer’s Story

In the early 1960s Stonewall had yet to happen, color television had yet to arrive in Australia, no Internet. The word “poofter” was often used as a pejorative rather like “faggot” but I had no idea what it meant. It was not until the late ‘60s that I heard of lesbians. So it was a rather un-worldly fifteen-year-old that left a small Country Town and traveled to Melbourne to commence a engineering apprenticeship in a Government Workshop. They were well organized, a list of people offering board and lodging was provided. I was fortunate enough to obtain accommodation with a married couple in their mid fifties. She was a friendly, pleasant woman, a Maltese, her name was Sophie. He was a Anglo Celt, steady but staid, he was a process worker. She described herself as just a housewife with just a basic education, which did not prevent her from being decent, sensible and open minded. I can say that I was more at ease in her company than when with my parents.

When I commenced my second year I decided to attend evening classes at a technical school. Because of bus timetables I had about 30 minutes to while away before classes commenced. There was a news-agent close by, I often checked out the “Girlie” magazines. They were tame by today’s standards, pubic hair air-brushed out. What quickly got my attention were two British magazines called Spick and its sister publication Span. (There is a bit about them on the Internet). They were about A5 size and contained mainly black and white photographs of the “Flower of English Womanhood” displaying their underwear. This was before the curse of pantyhose had reared its ugly head. Quite a few of the photographs were what we now call “up-skirts.” They were also relatively cheap which was great for someone on a apprentice’s wage.

So they provided great inspiration for masturbation, generally about twice a day. In the evenings after squirting I would put the magazine/s on the floor and slide them under the bed. In the mornings after making the bed I would put the books away in a cupboard under other reading matter. One afternoon when I got home from work there were two magazines on my bed, I had forgotten to put them away. Sophie (my landlady) had discovered them whilst vacuum cleaning. It was with some trepidation that I went into the kitchen where she always had cup of tea ready. She was her usual pleasant self, nothing was said.

However something did change! My room had two windows which looked out on the small rear yard. There was a shed, a few seats and a clothesline. Sophie had always hung her lingerie on the end furthest away. Now her girdles, panties and bras, mainly black were in full, close-up. Eventually I succumbed to temptation when one day I was home on study-leave. Sophie was out and I knew she would be out for quite some time. So, I obtained a girdle, what was called a “step-In, pull-on or open bottom girdle” Most had detachable suspender clips. I stripped off completely then pulled it on, it felt so exciting I had never become so aroused or excited so quickly ever before. Then, oh no, I was about to squirt and I had nothing ready, I did not want to leave any “evidence” so I squirted into my hand, so far so good, now what. Nothing to wipe my hand on so I licked it all up and immediately acquired a taste for the stuff that persists to this day.

I did not feel any sense of shame or self loathing. But I did have a sense of having betrayed Sophie’s trust, so I never did that again but my life was transformed.

Fast forward to the mid ’70s. I was in my late 20s. I was never at ease with young women so I thought to try a introduction agency where I met my late wife. She was seven years younger, like me sexually inexperienced. Her parents were conservative, her mother had taught her nothing. My wife referred to her genitalia as “down there.” Surprise, surprise there were soon difficulties, I do not blame my wife, perhaps if I had done things differently things may have turned out differently. I was reduced to masturbating whilst showering, not entirely without its charms.

I was in a different job by then, well actually two. One was part-time in the city on a week night. My wife used to travel by train and stay with her parents and I would pick her up and go home. A “red-light” district was on the way, so I started “gutter crawling.” Budget constraints meant that I usually opted for what was called “hand-relief.”

One night I picked a transvestite prostitute, his name was Lisa. He and I “hit it off.” After being hand relieved we talked for as long as possible, mainly about sexual matters, those conversations transformed my life for the better.

He was taking hormones. On the second occasion he undid the top buttons on his blouse and asked me what I thought of his breasts. I answered him truthfully and told him I thought they were lovely, he seemed to doubt me, so I caressed them and sucked his nipples. I have always loved male breasts and nipples more than women’s. When driving home I thought — Well I have just caressed a man’s breasts and loved it, a man has played with my penis and it felt soooo good. If this means I am gay then I am, no guilt, no hang-ups just sheer joy. I did realize that I had been unfaithful to my Wife which was not good.

Ever since then I have only ever fantasized about crossdressers, only ever looked at she-male etc. magazines, videos.

Life went on, my wife had been given a terrible body image. So to try and get her over it after a lot of quick talking I got her to go to nude beaches. I do not have good physique, she however realized that she was not unattractive. Most of the women there shaved or trimmed their pubic hair, so she followed. She tried waxing which gave her some problems so it was back to the razor. About once a week she would trim herself in the shower then come out lay down on the kitchen table and I trimmed around her bottom. Then back into the shower then out again for a bottom massage. She did not object when I caressed her “Valley of Delight” and its Silken Rose (truly that is what I call the anus). She did not object when I started kissing and licking the same area. All the time I was imagining she was a Gurl and I was rimming. We never had ordinary intercourse but she did like spooning which was fine by me.

Whenever she went out to say visit her parents. I would “set-up” the shower, attach a photo of a Gurl on the outside. I had a nice dildo which gave me considerable joy. When I squirted I did it on the dildo and then sucked and licked it off. I had a hidden a few mainly boy leg panties, preferably lace fronted. I never wore my wife’s, she always wore Escora when they were still available then Simone Perele. She liked G strings, no panty line showing, she only wore stockings mainly Schiaparelli.

So there it is, that is what happened when I discovered my true self. I also know that my heart can only feel safe when with wonderful Gurls like you and your kindred spirits.

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