Chapter 15 - The Great Pretender

Chapter 15 - The Great Pretender. Who do you think you are.






Oh-o no I'm not the great pretender, a rubbish one and I have the photos. I mince to unconvince in the privacy of me little two up two down which is rented anyway. Stop right here if you were hoping for some sort of tittylating mind-wnk, I don't write sexy stories duh. Sadly here's yet more soul-baring shyte to help me on my road to fcknowswhere.




Generally it's never been my thing, pretending. Been faithful to all my partners, not cos I'm innately super-trustworthy or owt and I have been tempted, it's more I can't be arsed telling lies. I'd get lost, hmm what did I tell them last time? For me it can be a struggle to keep up with the facts at the best of times, give me a hard truth rather than an easy lie anyday. As for my pictures on the site they are all real no filters or effects, someone has to look like this.




Been a fairly blokey bloke nearly all me life, beer football working to pay the bills and having sex with women. Northern working-class, Mum went to work to put food on the table and she brought us up proper. I was ugly from a young age, short skinny big nose big ears and covered in zits. But far worse for me was my chronic shyness I was afraid of everyone, not till later in life did I learn to deal with people.
Now mostly carefree and functioning alcoholically when not working, the skinny thing partly negated by drinking tons of ale.




So who needs to pretend? I do, I love dressing up in ladies underwear and what a thrill to share the pictures without everyone laughing at you. By all means laugh if you like, I'm not convincing but I have a slim build like a girl and at nearly fifty-three I've somehow still got me own hair. Ain't got a pretty face, more fun than my photos but you wouldn't think so with the scowly demeanour, I am unable to smile sweetly like a real girl. I do tarty better than girly maybe you hadn't noticed. And seventy-four blokes fancy me, what a thrill I nearly called the chapter that.




Yeah, when it come to dicking about in womens clothes pretending is in, pretending is the absolute dogs. To me that's what crossdressing is, pretending to be girls, to be women. From a young age wearing ladies underwear was the best thing, I found girls exciting but not as much fun as dressing up like them. Pretending to be girls is even better than real girls. How can pretending be better than the real thing? I'm obviously really fcked up. I don't much hold with the woman trapped in man's body stuff, but I only got my own viewpoint. If you think you are good for you or bad for you or whatever, we each have our own lives.




Public pretending is another kettle of fish entirely, I'm not sure I could do it. Its nowt like wearing stocking in yer front room. Would be a massive thrill I'll bet but I'm too self-conscious, think I'd stand out a mile, everyone pointing and laughing at me trying to walk in heels. Why's that man wearing a dress? I admire those that can get away with it.




I'm pretending to be a writer. Not a writer of stories more an observationist. A noddy journo with only one subject, the sort of literary pervert who is so sick he can only write about himself. Maybe I'll do fiction one day but I like telling it like it is. They say write about what you know and I don't know much so I write about a local guy who pretends to be a woman.




Since I gave up on girls I've had a long-term thing with one crossdressing partner and when we were close it wasn't pretending at all. The man/woman/crossdresser thing didn't matter, just two people sharing intimacy and fun. I've had the absolute time of me life with this soul. Looks like she's gone, I wait because she's worth it. I think I'm still pretending that she's coming back, guess if she loves me she will. And if she doesn't I'll be consoling myself with the blog of the fecking year award when I tell the true story of how a straight bloke fell in love with another man, no pretending required.






Love, Stella X

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