How I started Cross-dressing (maybe even why) Part 2

..... continued from Part 1:

I had never masturbated before. I didn't know what to expect.

What I did know was that I liked seeing girls wear hosiery.
And I knew that Mom wore this stuff, so SHE must like it. She liked looking nice. I knew Dad appreciated mom looking nice.

Mom was a girly girl. She always wore dresses, skirts, and decidedly feminine looking slacks. Her hair was always "just so". Every other saturday she was at the hairdresser's. Dad and I made a little fun of her about that. On a Saturday morning I might walk into the kitchen where Dad was, and ask where mom was. He'd say, "She's going to 'try it again'." Meaning: She hasn't achieved Hair-perfection, by her own standards. Eventually she even came to use that phrase. I suppose she got the joke after a while.

I think I realized hosiery was sexy when I was probably about 6. Mom took me early saturday mornings to be in a child's bowling league. Maybe the moms bowled too. I don't remember that part. Anyway, one of the other moms was driving, and Mom and I were in the back seat. I was on the driver's side in the back seat. Mom was on the hump. I think there was another kid on her right. For some reason I slid down to the floor in front of my seat. (Remember, this was a time when seatbelts were still considered mere accessories.) Knowing me, when we came to a stop, the inertia slid me forward a little, and I thought it was funny just to slide all the way too the floor. Yeah. That sounds like me. I'm pretty sure Mom didn't even bat an eye at me down there. She could be a talker, and kept yammering on with the driving mom. Mom was wearing a skirt (to the knees), heels and nylons. Real nylons! Even though pantyhose was invented and popularized in the 60's, it didn't really catch on until the mid-70's. It doesn't surprise me now that she was still wearing garter-held nylons into the early/mid 70's. Mom was a bit of a late-adopter.
Anyway, while down there on the floor, somehow my face and hands touched her leg. I felt this strange material on her. It felt good. Her leg felt warm. I don't remember many more details, but I seem to want to recall that I might have held or hugged her leg as though it was a valued teddy bear. I mean, that was my mom. Mom was in general a pretty good hugger when I was a child. She was soft, and warm and cuddly. And now there was this new dimension that I hadn't experienced before. My recollection is that there was a part of me that did realize that there was some thing taboo or naughty about that feeling. Of course I couldn't intellectualize it or verbalize it. But there was something there that caught me differently.

So now, I'm trying on clothing that only MOM wears. I KNEW this was taboo. And it was exciting. I knew it had something to do with sex. I mean, I knew what a boner was, and knew that it felt good in a way to HAVE a boner. I had the sex-education class in 6th grade where they explained (vaguely, sort of) the mechanics of sex. And that was 2 years before. And I knew at 14 that some time soon I'd be doing things with girls. But I was EXTREMELY shy about girls, preferring to be a class clown.

At the moment, I just knew this was exciting and fun. But obviously didn't know the ramifications of my actions. Even in the months after this initial experience, I did think about it. Wondering even then if I could quit.

Now I look back on that first time and wonder more about Mom. (A lesbian friend who never knew about my girly activities once said to me while we discussed how lesbians come to BE lesbians said, "It's all about Mom." I wonder if that true for most of us cross-dressers, and other transgender types.) I wonder if it was just about the sexual thrill of wearing her clothing, or if there was something more there.

Mom wore the pants in the family, so to speak. She did the disciplinary yelling, for the most part. She handled the family money. She did the cooking, the cleaning, the sewing, the shopping. And she had a full-time job too. Dad mowed the lawn, and had a job. But for some reason when he got home from work, he would take a nap on the couch after dinner. Then go to bed. Mom might help me with homework, but mostly she was cleaning up after dinner, and maybe doing the bills or some other chore.
She could be feisty. Fierce, even. She would stick up for me and fight for me whether I was right or wrong. Dad was more reasoned about things, but most of the time he took her side too. But Mom was definitely a Mama Lioness protecting her cub.

So what I wonder about is whether part of my first dressing experience was also about experiencing Mom's power. Think about it. Mom wore garments of finer material that had a special feel about them that only SHE wore (of the 3 of us). They made her prettier. In fact, they made every woman I saw on TV prettier. And 60's and 70's tv was filled with some pretty clear imagery of how men were attracted to pretty girls. This was not lost on me of course. Females had some sort of power. Near as I could tell, they had this because of how they appeared..... how they looked, smelled, felt, and how they dressed, and how they held themselves, and behaved. Maybe my trying on of Mom's pantyhose was about feeling the power she had.

And why not? What power did I have? Or more importantly, what power did I think I had? I was just about to go into high school. I liked girls very much, but found them incredibly intimidating. At least the girls that "I" liked were intimidating. It was easier to hang with my buddies. When I did talk with girls, I just talked to them as though WE were buddies.  I was never THAT smooth guy who knew how to talk to girls in that sexual way. It always seemed so phony, and contrived. So, for now, let's just leave it at... I felt comparatively powerless regarding females.

So yes, there's a money shot (of sorts) here....  I laid there on my parent's bed wearing mom's hose, and waited. Something should happen, right?
After a few minutes it did. Some white goo came out of me. And then my body involuntarily squeezed my butt and pelvic muscles that squeezed my prostate and pushed more goo out. Yes, it felt good. But afterwards, I realized that I made a mess of mom's hose, and I better clean that stuff up right now. I think I rinsed them out in the sink and threw them in the dryer.

Little did I know that that one little experiment would turn into years of addiction. It's adversely affected not only me, but my relationships with girlfriends, wife, and children.

There is much more to my story, and my thoughts about this.

Ironically, as I write this, there is a book between my arms on my desk that has nothing to do with sex addiction. It's about dieting. (yes, I need to drop 10 or 60 lbs.) And I just happened to read this passage that does work for dealing with this addiction as well:

When you get married, does the religious figure or justice of the peace ask, "Do you swear to give the person a try?" When people tell me they will give it a try, I say "Don't bother. you have already decided to fail." It takes more than a try to quit addictions: it takes a commitment.

Today makes 8 full days without acting out.