Wearing naught underwear aspart of my cross-dressing had been fabulous precisely because it was notnormality, it was different, a dirty secret to be e...joyed and lived outin private. Now, this has become my normality. I wear those clothes nolonger by choice, but by default.Choice, or rather, the lack of it, manifested itself in another issue.As both a man and a cross-dresser, I had always held breasts in thehighest admiration and esteem. Their aesthetics, texture and hapticswould provide me with. Neither of us pulled away. Just enjoying the touch. The feeling. Hesmiled. I smiled back. We just sat there. Time stood still. When we hadto part for the day again, he kissed me on the forehead. His lips feltgreat. But it was kind weird none the less. Why the forehead? We'repretty much the same height. Did he deviate? So many thoughts. Again.We definitely should meet for drinks or dinner sometime. Not thosevanilla afternoon meetings. I would wear a dress. And nice shoes. Maybeit's less weird. More

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