How did you make out?

By Paula Gaikowski

Friday, Stana posted my article of memories, an archive of sort that chronicled my journey over the years dealing with this special gift that we have. One of those memories generated a request for more details about making out at a Halloween party when I was dressed as a girl.

This is something that for years I pushed down and away and didn’t want to remember or acknowledge. When I started dating and then married, I made it a point to consciously forget about it. Now at 63-years-old, years of therapy and self-acceptance, I can look back at the event with pleasant thoughts.

So, let’s go back in time to 1979, Hahn Air Base, Germany. A married couple from my workplace was having their big annual Halloween party at their house off base. We were a young crowd, older teens, 20’s, some 30’s, very much into partying. 

On the night shift, costumes were discussed and when boyfriends and husbands rejected the idea, I happily volunteered to go as a girl with just enough insincere resistance. At 19-years-old, I was a size 14-16 and could not wait to wear the Air Force blue skirt suit that women wore on duty.

If you know my story, I was no stranger to crossdressing at this age and really didn’t need any encouragement or help. One of my female co-workers was a happy helper and loaned a uniform. I made a covert trip to the Base BX to purchase bra, panties, pantyhose and a slip and to a German store in town, a red lipstick.

Over to Linda’s apartment the afternoon of the party to “get ready,” I remember feeling so proud that Linda was impressed with the proficiency and aptitude that I had in getting dressed in women’s clothes and putting on makeup. (I had spent years after school using my mom’s make-up and trying on her clothes.) 

As Femulations go, this was a good one. I liked the way I looked, considering my inexperience in dressing up fully to pass. 

The party itself was a raucous affair, ranging anywhere from 30-50 people. I had a great time, playing along with the innuendo and crude comments. I reveled in and relished the attention and felt so feminine. Now remember, this is Germany and the Mosel Valley, beer and wine! By midnight, those of us left were all very buzzed.

A small group had gathered down in the basement, a side room at the end of the evening. We were all chatting, laughing as the night wound down. Then it was quiet and I was alone with a guy who I had been talking to at different times throughout the night. We started talking about my costume, crossdressing, drag shows, and I remember specifically he asked me how it felt to wear pantyhose? My inhibitions thinned by alcohol, I replied “Great, Silky and smooth!” 

Two lustful and lascivious 19-year-olds, one ravenous for the feel of a woman, the other desiring to feel like a woman. Now alone in the dark, thousands of miles from home, both drunk. 

His hand skimmed my leg, soon it was up under my skirt. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered.

I was stunned, wanting to shriek and run, however, another part me wanted this, just a few seconds more I thought. He grabbed at my bra, I sighed, He pushed me backward and we’re lying down, a light kiss, then another, an embrace, this feels wonderful. Then as quickly as it started, it ends. I’m sitting alone and the night is ending. What just happened?

For years, I refused to think about that night buried away in the corners of my mind. I was young, confused and even ashamed of what happened. It has taken me years to accept and understand who I am. Now I take it out of that special hiding place, a treasured curio and share it with my sisters and community here at Femulate. 

Source: ShopBop

Another femulator out and about acclimating society to pretty men in pretty clothes.