Boys Briefs For Women?

How is that nearly every underwear maker for women makes these or a variation thereof…they are marketed in every ad there is for women’s/girl’s clothes…worn by tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of females…and it is perfectly fine?

But if a male wears panties…or anything else even remotely feminine, it is the subject of endless ridicule and I don’t know what kind of phobia…by both genders and every gender variant?  Somebody please, “ ‘splain it to me Lucy.”

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Girls With Girls

AMLAND

“A woman and a woman together are beautiful, just as a man and a woman together are beautiful. Being with a woman is like exploring your own body, but through someone else. When I was younger I used to go with lots of women. Totally. I love it. ”                         Drew Barrymore (via lettersfromdreamland)

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All I Want

Really all I want is to have a woman’s body…and to snuggle, hold, press and feel that body against the body of another like it.  I want to fall asleep and wake in the morning with my breasts pressed against any part of another beautiful woman.

I want to fall asleep spooned up with my lover and fall to sleep with my hand cupping her flower.  I want to wake with her hand cupping mine.

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Re-blogged From What a Feminist / Lesbian / Vegetarian Blogs Like

“Fuck these patriarchal beauty standards. I hear you loud and clear, but women wearing pink and glitter and heels are not the enemy. And believe it or not, a whole bunch of women LIKE wearing that shit. We are not dumb, less feminist or watered down because of it. A long time ago when I was in undergrad I walked up to my feminist friends sitting in the grass and they started talking about my pink backless shirt and how their own clothes weren’t so “cutesy,” then it got awkward so I left and one of them said “see you later Blossom”. Do you remember that show? I loved it. But that’s not the point. The point is that my “friend” snuck a little snide comment in front of our all of our other friends simply because I like dressing up. And that was at least 8 years ago and I still remember everything about that day. Feminism is not about laughing at other girls and making them feel insecure. Especially over something as trivial as clothes. Remember you are pro-choice. Respect my choice to wear booty shorts.”

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Abuse of Women

Did you know about these facts?

  • Half of the women who die from homicides worldwide are killed by their current or former husbands or partners.
  • Somewhere in America a woman is battered, usually by her intimate partner, every 15 seconds.
  • Three women are murdered by an intimate partner every day in the USA.
  • Every minute and a half a woman is raped in the USA.
  • Around 800,000 people are trafficked across borders annually. 80% are women & girls.
  • In Mexico, around 5,000 children are involved in prostitution, pornography & sex tourism.
  • In South Africa, a women is raped every 26 seconds.
  • In Pakistan, over 80% of women face some form of sexual harassment.

We are concerned that after 99 years of talking about it, the global community still does not accept women as equal citizens. Since 1993, the United Nations has talked about women’s equality and rights, but has failed to persuade all its member countries to implement its recommendations.

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More Email Converstaion With A Female Lover

Dear XXXX – You seemed shocked when I told you I absolutely abhor thongs. Briefs, bikinis, hip huggers, string sided…but hate, hate, hate thongs.

This is what I find so attractive about women’s underthings.  I love the panties and nylons and garter belt and slip and her black bra.  I know I’m maybe a little old-fashioned but this was the world I grew up in.  These very girly things are the things I grew up touching on women.  The thing is, I look at women as art, and they tend to treat themselves as such. They can be anything they want to be, every single day of the week, just by what they wear, how they do their hair, how they do their makeup, and everything thing is about expressing their femaleness, their bodies, their mood,  their sexuality, their choices are endless. They never have to look the same, and they can do this every day of their lives.  Several times a day if they choose. Even the dumbest most boneheaded, vacant females can make themselves so attractive and sexy and pretty. It is something amazing to me.  Guys…a well lets see…jeans, slacks…maybe suit and tie….and uh….well lets see…there is always  jeans, slacks…maybe suit and tie….or even shorts and a T-shirt!

Women on the other hand, can be just as sexy and desirable in jeans and a T-shirt, or flannel pajamas, and no makeup, and no hair…or men’s clothes.  But women’s clothes are all made to enhance their beauty and sexuality and femininity and beauty and the art of their bodies.  They are all designed to grace and enhance and fine the art of her body.  Make her feel good about herself and remind her that she is a woman and how feminine and sexy she is. And they are so sensual!

And yes, every man loves girl/girl sex (though I do for many different reasons) but it is because men are always only “allowed” to have sex with women.  Also because I think no matter what your sex, the female form is the most sensual and sexual and with two women touching and pleasuring themselves…well it is art deluxe!  A man cannot have sex with a woman unless he is allowed. Period.  With girls, there is only sex for sex sake.  They can’t make each other pregnant.  There are no real physical repercussions.  A woman would never call another woman and tell her she had to marry her. They had sex and it was good and that was that.  They don’t have to get an erection and maintain it; they only have to enjoy the beauty of one another.

That’s what rape is all about.  It isn’t about sex, it is about anger over being allowed, it is saying I have power over you because I am stronger and I refuse to be allowed.  The number one requested act by prostitutes is oral sex.  Most women don’t give very good head.  It isn’t about sex.  It is about power.   Getting head (though it can be wonderful) for those clients isn’t about sex, it is about power.  (In the main women don’t patronize prostitutes of either sex) They want head because it is about domination and power, not because of the quality of the experience, and in effect may be just acting out subliminal rape fantasies.  Men are angry, and in many respects I think rightly so, but they are also so stupid and clueless as to why they want what they want.

I said I have a “femininity fetish” and after more than 40 years of having it, that is the only way I can accurately describe and categorize it.  Life is art.  I guess maybe I just want to have and feel that same freedom of expression and beauty and sensuality as women do and be able to be art too. Oh…and plus girl things feel so good on one’s body.  Male or female, it still feels really, really good!

Lot’s of conversations we can have about this.

Posted in Cross Dressing, Dressing, Femmy, Full cut briefs, Gender Gifted, Girl things., Girly, High Heels, Lesbian, Lipstick, Nylon panties, Panties, Pretty Bras, Stockings, Transgendered, Vintage nylon, Women's Clothing | Leave a comment

Email Conversation with A Female Lover

I think you asked me what my favorite colors were, much of our conversation was hazy as I, like you was very tired and, maybe had too many Scotches in me, but I think my reply was black, (which you liked), pink, and yellow.  Although white is very nice too.  So the picture. Maybe this would be my context of yellow.  But what I really want you to read is the text about how I think about some things below.  I am sharing these images with you.  It is just what I find artful, sensual and attractive.

Life…is about sensuality and art. Living well is about filling ones life with art. Poetry, music, books, fashion, good food lovingly prepared, great architecture, gardens, and an endless litany of creations of the human mind and soul, all of the visions and dreams of human kind brought to fruition and reality.  Living well is all about sensuality.  It is why we have bodies and minds and skin that responds, and hearts that swell with gladness and fill with love and gladness and  pain that we can feel.  Feeling is about sensuality.  The touch of a warm breeze on your cheek, an impending orgasm, a paper cut, feeling the sand beneath your toes walking on the beach, the rich sweet taste of  Vietnamese coffee, the sound of ocean waves lulling you to sleep, the experience of  falling to sleep, the lush other-reality of dreaming, fabrics on the skin, racing cars, going to the moon, the list is endless and goes on forever. It is why we are here.

Human kind is the creator in the image of its creator.  Everything we do, from the most basic instinct and one of our existence’s most basic and prime directives and drivers;  is about sex.  Sex is all about art and creativity and exploration.  It is about love and appreciation and surrender and being completely vulnerable to another human being, and happy and willing to be. It is about giving and sharing, making another’s needs and experiences a part of your own, sharing on a level that is supremely personal and private and difficult to do. The more difficult the gift to give and receive, the more important and Godly it becomes.

God is all that is and all that ever was, and all that ever will be.  It is matter and energy that can neither be created or destroyed.  But because it is all, it cannot know itself. There are no definitions or boundaries. It simply is and in that sense exists in a void.  But, if it gave all its power to free willed sentient and conscious entities, it is free in an endless way to explore its limits and boundaries and wonders.  Hmmm…maybe humans can serve that purpose in a way that nothing else can.

Just like what I am but with a corporeal body that can experience things in ways I am unable to in my present and omnipotent limitless form.  So I will give them all, but with limits since I don’t know what might happen, but want to know what can happen.

I will make sexuality a prime and overriding directive so that they will multiply endlessly and not limit human expression by their lack of numbers, knowing this will affect their art and literature and fashion, and power struggles and quest for money and power over one another, and this will create conflict and pain for many, but it must be a creative act.  Or the need to procreate will not survive and the exploration at some point will stagnate or eventually cease, and it will not survive.

Sexuality will ultimately drive or compel or affect everything these sentient beings do in one way or the another, and until they figure this out, they will continue to not understand what it is they are about and why they exist.

Ultimately, humans will learn that living is about what they experience and not what they have. That things only enhance their experiences but that the experience is far more important than the thing or the act.  Because that is what I desire. The experience. I desire to feel the experience in a million different ways…  who and what I am and what is to experience and be. It is the only way I can know myself and what it is that is my power and definition and what is I can and have created.

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Something I Wrote To Remind Myself Of Things In My Life

I was in high school. Freshman, sophomore, somewhere in there. Early sixties. At night in the dark sanctuary of my room, I was lying in bed in women’s nylon panties, crazy with lust over the feeling they gave me.  The earth shattering, mind rocking sensuality of the slippery nylon fabric hugging my skin, the absolute and incredible transformation that little bit of feminine fabric and shape afforded me was beyond my comprehension,  but God how I loved how it felt and where it took me. I loved feeling feminine and pretty and sensual in a way I still do not understand nearly 40 years later. Though I didn’t even know such a thing existed at the time, somehow one night I had the vision of another girl in my bed with me, touching and kissing me, wearing nothing but her panties, and the next thing I knew she was seducing and making love to me and we were rubbing our nylon covered mounds together and then there was that incredible orgasm.  Where on earth did that come from? I had never seen an image, nor had I heard of anything like girls making love at that point in my young life. Ever. But there it was. And it felt so real. But it never happened. And yet somehow it did.

Meanwhile, I had met a black man who would have been midway through college at that point, and whose parents were both tenured professors at Phoenix College.  One math, one English. His name was Henry and he was a car guy and so was I. Henry was brilliant and both a talented guitar player and photographer who had attended Brooks Institute. Henry had grown up in a white only neighborhood in Phoenix and had been beaten daily on his way home from grade school because he was black. Henry was lazy and insolent and had a huge chip on his shoulder.  He was a multiple black belt in Karate and eventually extracted revenge on most if not all of his grade school tormentors. But we became good friends despite our ethnic and age differences. We cruised Central Avenue and street raced almost every night.  On the weekends we worked at Beeline Dragway and I got to meet and hang out with every legend there is in drag racing.

One of those was Shirley Muldowney.  Where I am going with this is, despite the fact that I secretly lay at night enraptured with the trappings of femininity and dearly loved it, I was so embarrassed that Shirley was known as “Cha Cha” and had to wear pink hot pants and go-go boots in order to appease her sponsors that I was ashamed at that point to be a man. It damn sure wasn’t a woman who made that decision and if it was, she was a bimbo and that was something else I abhorred. I wasn’t just embarrassed, I was mad as hell. She was as good or better than any man out there, and proved it later with multiple championships.  I was 15 or 16 years old and I was a raging feminist and the term wouldn’t be coined for God knows how long.  Despite my deep seated (at that point) femininity fetish, my anger and rage at the way women were treated only grew as I got older until I finally concluded that most humans weren’t worth the space they occupied or the air they breathed.  But I was a champion of women’s rights before it was much of a cause, any thinking human should be even though they are not, and it has been a powerful force in my life ever since.

I was never uncomfortable with being male. It was perfect as far as I was concerned. I was blessed with a nice body and I was handsome. I never gave it a second thought. Except when I had feminine clothing on my body.  Suddenly, then, I was an opposite sex, despite my gender. How could this be? Where did this come from? Where did the longing for what were only the trappings of femininity come from? Why was I so irresistibly drawn to women’s clothes and high heels and makeup and the ritual of dressing and putting makeup on?  As a man, I couldn’t imagine having to be burdened with the trappings of femininity and to do simple things like drive a car in a skirt and heels. What a huge pain in the ass! And yet, there was nothing like wearing a tight skirt and heels and walking and feeling the skirt and slip moving and tugging over your nylon pantied ass as you moved. Talk about sensual! That experience is amazingly sensual and sexual, but to have to go about your daily business dressed like that was like crazy. Tens of years later I learned about terms like cross dresser etc. Cross dresser? All women are crossdresers, especially cowgirls.  Okay for women but not for men, and women were the angriest and most turned off by anything feminine a man might wear? I’m confused. Is anyone else?

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It’s Never Easy

Re-blogged from

http://goldstarfemme.tumblr.com/

I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this before…

constellationmarkings:

BUT anyway.

Do you know how fucking hard it is to be a feminine lesbian?

No one believes that you’re gay, and most lesbians want to date a girl that looks more androgynous. It’s even harder, when you tend to like more feminine looking girls.

So I’m basically going to be a nun forever.

I couldn’t agree more.

My response is:  I feel your pain. And that of all who are alternately sexed. But if you want to experience an unbearable level of pain and lonliness…and alienation…being a man who loves wearing women’s clothes…and who genuinely feels like a lesbian inside…who only wants to share what he is and feels with another woman…welcome to the planet of dark hell.  Pain is relative…but then again…what if it is one in tens of hundreds of thousands?

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I Want To Look Like Her

I wish I looked just like her.  I love her broad shoulders and wide hips. I think she is one of the most beautiful and sexy women I have ever seen.  I would love to see her in person…with clothes on!

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