The following is a true account of my personal sexual journey. Do enjoy.

I’ve always considered myself a red-blooded man - attracted to women, obsessed with their curves, the softness of their skin, the scent of their hair, and the way their lingerie hugged their bodies like secrets waiting to be unravelled.

Throughout my late teens and twenties, I dated beautiful women and enjoyed the pleasures that came with it. But deep inside, a quiet, persistent desire was growing - something unspoken, unexplored. I found myself captivated not just by women, but by what they wore beneath their clothes. Silky panties. Stockings. Lace. And eventually, cock.

It started the day I found my housemate’s panty drawer. She was in her twenties - carefree, confident, and effortlessly sexy. When I opened that drawer, it was like stepping into a forbidden world. My hands trembled as I pulled out a red thong bodysuit with matching thigh-high stockings.

I tried them on.

And in that moment, standing before the mirror in delicate lace and bright red silk, I didn’t feel like the man I’d always been. I felt transformed. Desirable. Slutty. I stared at myself - and something powerful ignited inside me.

I didn’t just want to be admired. I wanted to be wanted - by a man.

I wanted to feel his arousal for me, taste his desire, and submit to it. I longed to satisfy a hard, aching cock the way a true, seductive, needy woman would. And I wanted his release - warm, messy, raw - as proof that I had pleased him.

Years passed. I built a life – I climbed the career ladder. On the surface, I was a reliable professional, a good man. But underneath it all, my secret desires never faded. They only grew stronger, darker, more urgent.

I hid them well. I told myself it was just porn. Just fantasy. But it wasn't.

Late at night, I’d tiptoe into my private world. I’d slip into lingerie—lace panties, fishnet stockings, a tight satin garter belt. I’d kneel in front of my mirror, cock already leaking, watching myself as I touched, teased, edged.

And always, the same fantasy played in my mind. A man. Strong. Anonymous. Hard. Wanting me - not as a man, but as his little sissy slut. His toy. His hole.

Eventually, watching trans and sissy porn wasn’t enough. I needed more.

That’s when I discovered Adult World.

It became my dirty little escape. Tucked away on the edge of town, it was the kind of place you only found if you were looking for something deliberate and discreet. I’d sneak in quickly, head down, heart racing, cock already stirring. The dim lights led to the back, where the gloryholes waited like portals to a world where names didn’t matter.

The first time I stood in front of that hole, I was trembling. My knees felt week, my lips parted, and when that thick cock pushed through, my mouth opened like it knew what to do. I sucked like a hungry whore.

I never made them cum. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Instead, it was always me, desperate, cock throbbing, as they reached through to stroke me and trade spots. Now my cock was poking throught the hole as my anonymous lover sucked me to completion.

And then I'd leave, relieved and ashamed… but more aroused than ever.

The gloryholes were my training ground. My confession booth. But they were only the beginning.

Because what I truly craved, what I ached for, was to be fully transformed.

To dress up, fully. Shaved smooth. Panties hugging my voluptuous ass. Heels clicking across the floor. Lips painted. Eyes lined. To be bent over, fucked deep, filled with cum and left dripping - used.

And last year… it finally happened.

Let me know if you enjoyed reading this… any feedback or writing advice will be welcomed and appreciated :)