Monday, 21 April 2014

Two Lovely Places To Visit

Just a micro update to share two online sites that I really enjoyed looking through last week when I stumbled upon them.  They're beautiful Pinterest sites based on Brides, bridalwear and female wedding accessories.

Whilst it's not my absolute fantasy, like many cross-dressers I do have quite a soft spot for wedding dresses and I'm certainly not intending to die without having worn one - along with all the associated underwear / lingerie that no beautiful bride would ever be without.

I know that a dressing agency will be my best way of fulfilling this fantasy - and it's one that I've just explored briefly in Samantha's Secrets.  You can read about Samantha's wedding preparations here - and it's a subject that I'll definitely return to this year - hopefully after I've been brave enough to get to The Boudoir or Femesque this summer and become a real, blushing bride myself.

Back soon,
love from Samantha xxx

I promise not to end 2014
before wearing a wedding dress!

Sunday, 20 April 2014

A Sudden Shock - Help Needed Please

This lady looks like she's
just had quite a shock.
This weekend Google has stopped listing anything to do with I Love Wearing Tights.  From being amongst the top entries when you searched for tights, pantyhose, transvestism, cross-dressing and stockings, there's now nothing there.

Whilst this is a shock, it's also a problem for any new readers who won't be able to stumble upon me when searching for anything girlie and hosiery related.  My Twitter account is helpful, but Google and Bing bring most of my visitors and I'm sure many of you wouldn't have found me without it.

Can I please ask that you share and publicise I Love Wearing Tights as much as you can until Google pick it up once again.  I can only guess why I might have suddenly vanished, but so long as the word gets out, I can keep writing, sharing and posting.  There's so much more to ponder and share here, so please do what you can to spread the word.

Whilst I'm here, a little extra vote of thanks to Janice, Paul, Helen, Sarah and Julie who've all been in touch and are amongst my most loyal readers and supporters.  I know you get the blog completely and I truly appreciate your love and support.

Also, thank you to Emily for your kind words too.  I don't really have female readers for obvious reasons, but you are only too welcome to share my world and it's incredible to think that a real girl has been able to empathise with the frustrations and guilt of transvestism.  I am just one of the thousands out there who crave and need to wear tights and female clothes but can't.  Hopefully in our lifetime, we will be able to.  Knowing there's a girl out there who now understands why men might be led towards cross-dressing makes me incredibly happy.

See you soon, lots of love from Samantha for now.

Samantha is her element - she's truly in heaven here.

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Would You Like To Share Samantha's Secrets?

As you may have seen, I have just started a new blog as a companion piece to this - I Love Wearing Tights - my original autobiographical blog about my love of all things to do with tights, female clothing and femininity in general.

My new blog is devoted to the fantasies I have to do with tights, girls, transvestism and trans women.  Like all fantasies, they're all very personal and so they won't all be to your taste, but if you'd like to pop along you may well come across something that seems exciting for you too.

Please feel free to visit Samantha's Secrets, or ignore it as you wish at:


I would like to request a little feedback, interaction and suggestions from you, through comments or directly to my email address.  Whilst most readers (nearly all of them male, but a couple of supportive real women too who are wives of trannies) are really appreciative of the blog - I've become a little disheartened by the moans and complaints that I've received from some readers about the gaps between posts and updates.  Please remember that I write all of this in my spare time for free - so far over 20,000 words!

My email is or you can comment using the buttons below this entry, or over at Samantha's Secrets.  I look forward to hearing from you very soon.

Lots of love, and please enjoy sharing my secrets.  I hope you'd like to share some of yours too.  I promise your anonymity will be safe if you share anything - with your name attached, or not.  Anything posted will not be named, I promise sweeties.

Love for now,
Samantha Denier
Samantha, relaxing at home.

Saturday, 12 April 2014

I'm Wide Awake - Part 3

Please see the other entries in 'I'm Wide Awake', as well as the entry of 20th June 2011 to place this story in context.

One of the most profoundly sexy things that happened during those first months away from home sharing with the girls occurred a few days before the end of the Christmas Term.  One of my housemates, Jane, with whom I would later develop a lovely rapport and friendship (and share a particular conversation that still haunts me even today!) was in the process of getting dressed for a big night out.

Whilst this is being recalled from a considerable distance of twenty years away, I am confident that what I’m describing is incredibly close to the events of the day itself.  I can still see Jane now.  She was wearing a plain black t-shirt that reached down to her mid thighs.  I’d seen her in it many times before as she’d worn it around the house as a kind of nightshirt or pyjama top.  From a micro second glance I’d had once – entirely accidentally a few weeks before – I knew that she wore knickers underneath when wearing it around the house, and so this particular day was not exceptional.  She was wearing the t-shirt as her outfit inside the house that day.  Jane was padding around the house for most of the afternoon in her t-shirt and fleecy socks, and it was only at about six o’clock in the evening that things took an unexpectedly exciting turn.

Without warning as I came out of my room that evening, there stood Jane.  She was wearing the same black t-shirt, but instead of the socks and bare legs, she was wearing a most extraordinary pair of black and green striped opaque tights.  Not for the first time that autumn and winter, I found myself stunned into silence and could only guess that my own stunned expression must have been a sight to behold.

Stripey tights are pretty common today.  Young girls wear thick, woolen versions of them in pastel and primary shades in playgrounds and they’re ubiquitous amongst a certain type of teenage girl and young woman who favour the proper, 60 denier nylon versions.

I’m stereotyping of course, but ‘Alternative’, ‘Indie’, ‘Emo’ or ‘Goth’ girls all love their stripey tights and you can’t walk through any suburban shopping mall today without seeing them in every shade and combination.  Red and black, black and white, yellow and navy blue etc, and they're most frequently worn with shorts or very short skirts to maximize their exposure and visual impact.  Stripey tights are now almost mainstream, but this wasn’t the case back in 1990.

I had seen girls wearing stripey tights before, but very rarely, and I’d never really seen any close up.  My fetish meant that I was absolutely fascinated by them even if they didn’t hold quite the immediate visual gratification of regular opaques for me.  Nonetheless, as Jane strode down the hallway into the kitchen, I was entranced – completely helpless.  Without a second thought I followed blindly after her so as to get a better look.


I didn’t have long to appreciate her, but boy, did I get what I hoping for!  Whilst making my cup of tea I kept sneaking glances at Jane’s legs as she too busied herself.  She was in the kitchen to use the iron, and to my delight she had a familiar short black dress over the ironing board, getting it ready for the evening ahead.  From the security of the other side of the room, I was able to see her for two or three minutes, with her back to me, seemingly oblivious to my fascinated gaze that was fixed upon her legs and stripey tights.

It was clearer to see, close-up, that these particular stripey tights were very close to regular opaques.  The black portions of the tights were like regular nylon black tights, whilst the green sections were similar - just affected by being dyed a different colour.  It was clear that they’d feel similar if not identical to some 40 or 60 denier opaques to wear, although I wondered if it were possible to feel the horizontal seams where the different colours interlocked every inch or so up your legs.

I drifted into a fantasy of actually being Jane, standing there; ironing my dress whilst wearing these wonderfully erotic items myself.  What must it feel like to stand there, wrapped up these fabulous tights whist having someone look at you?  My sensations span and my cock burned painfully below me.

The final treat of the night happened a few short moments later.  I took the initiative and made my way back to my room before Jane finished, so as to not appear suspicious in any way.  I left the kitchen, and just a few steps behind me, Jane followed, clearly engaged with getting herself up to her room to get fully dressed.  Our eyes didn’t connect; she was focused only on going back upstairs.  And, by some miracle of timing, lighting, fortune and serendipity, I was about to get the most staggeringly intimate real-life view of some tights that I’d ever had.

Jane launched herself up the stairs, and carried on going – no more slowly or quickly than she normally did.  Time for me though slowed down, as my eye line met her wonderful black and green striped legs at knee level.  A second or so later, her thighs and the hem of her t-shirt were just a few centimeters from my face, and I could scarcely believe my luck.  The inevitable happened, of course.

A moment later, and Jane was now another couple of feet above my eye line, and as I glanced upwards, I was met by the astonishing sight of her bottom and lower body bobbing up the stairs – a genuine, real life, fully animated upskirt for my exclusive delight and pleasure. 

For those remaining stairs, I had the privilege of watching Jane’s beautifully wrapped bottom go up the stairs.  There was the top of her tights – not striped, but a plain green pantie at the top.  There too were her knickers, plainly visible, made of smooth white cotton, hiding beneath the ecstatically tight emerald nylon.  Dear Lord - her legs, bum and tights looked unimaginably tactile, sexy and enticing.

Think about a green and black version and you're pretty close.

The hormones rushed through me, and I longed for those tights like nothing so much before.  I wanted to be her – to wear the tights, feel the knickers and nylon for myself, to trot up the stairs and have my own backside be glanced at from below.  I wanted to dress like a girl and be a girl - like Jane so, so much.  Not to have a man lust after me, but just to inhabit and exude that sensual female beauty that touched me like nothing else.

I’m sure that you’ve felt the same way if you’re reading this now.  It’s the never ending, never soluble contradiction of being a transvestite or a lover of female clothes that we want to be feminine, and to look like, act and be seen as women, yet feel desire and admiration for women at the same time.  We don’t as a rule seem to want male attention, but do want a female identity and feminine acceptance of our desires – although your experiences may be different.

My evening concluded with a spell in my room, alone, joyfully reliving the experience of watching Jane’s bottom go up the stairs in her stripey tights and little ‘dress’.  Like a few weeks before with Alice’s blue tights, I was unable to hold myself and back and I was soon trying to extinguish the excitement and desire by replaying the scene in my mind whilst making myself cum.

This happened very quickly indeed, and I spent the next 16 hours going through a cycle of resting, sleeping, awaking in a state of outrageous arousal before once again climaxing – each time hoping to find my desire and frustrations of wanting to wear some tights and be like Jane calmed.  The initial, almost wild arousal did subside, but that’s the only part of my desire to dress as a female that ever did. 

As I write this now, I feel identical, and will go to sleep very soon playing a scenario in my head where I stand at an ironing board in a thigh length t-shirt.  I’m ironing a lovely little black dress with a delicate floral pattern, and I’m also wearing some tight little white panties and some lovely new tights.  I feel every tiny breeze on my legs – they’re freshly waxed and gorgeously smooth after all.  My tights are so wonderfully snug and smooth against my legs and lower body that I can’t help dabbing them with my finger tips or caressing my legs against each other so that my thighs rub the nylon between them, or my knees come together creating a warm space as they join up beneath me.

Soon my dress is ready and I’m off up the stairs to my bedroom to slip it over my head and reach behind myself to zip it up tightly.  On the way, I negotiate the hall and climb the fifteen stairs, knowing that all of my legs and knickers could be seen by anyone who happened to be below at that time.  It’s a mortifying thought – that my tights, panties and bottom could be seen by someone with me being powerless to stop it.  I am happy though – the only other person in the house, Samantha, left the kitchen a minute or so before me to go to her room.  She couldn’t possibly have been standing below watching me go up the stairs, could she?

I'm Wide Awake - Part 2

Please see the other entries in 'I'm Wide Awake', as well as the entry of 20th June 2011 to place this story in context.

Things didn’t stop there - the girls would continue to amaze and intrigue me with their conversations and their clothes over the next few months.  As I’ve written before, living with young women for the first time was a lovely experience and I loved being close to the paraphernalia of femininity.

The bathroom was full of pink and purple bottles and aerosol sprays, cotton buds, tiny balls of cotton wool, moisurising creams, salon-style shampoo bottles and conditioners. In the mornings and evenings the bathroom and hallways would smell of perfume and floral deodorants and the whole atmosphere in the house was very different to my boyhood home.

There was a lot of talking.  More than I ever thought possible.  The phone in the hallway rang a lot (This was 1990, remember).  Letters and postcards from all over the country with both masculine and feminine handwriting arrived frequently and there was always something for the three girls or their friends to talk about.  Whether it was at 7.00 in the morning as the girls made their way around the toasty kitchen or in the early hours after a long night’s clubbing, the talking didn’t stop.

I genuinely enjoyed it all, only bristling at the intensely female discussions about the boys and celebrities that met their approval.  It just didn’t chime with me and it was only here that I felt a little disconnected from them.  The rest though was brilliant – discussions about their sisters’ behaviour, chats about their college courses, chats about the summer holidays or talks about their clothes, hair, make-up, underwear, swimwear – it was a lovely to hear girls just simply being girls; and I felt like I was getting a privileged opportunity to be abandoned in this young female landscape that hadn’t been a part of my life until this, my nineteenth year.

Whilst we didn’t spend too much time in each other’s individual rooms – the kitchen and the living room were the sociable areas where we spent our time together – there was the occasional afternoon or evenings where two or three of use would end up perched on the side of a bed, listening to music or talking about our new college lives as well as the past and the future.

Thus, over the course of those first few weeks living away, I had my first experience of hanging out in a girl’s room.  I hadn’t had a serious enough girlfriend to ever get that far during my school days.  But here, away at university in a shared house I had the benefit of being able to reinvent myself; and also to share some time in my female housemate’s rooms in an atmosphere that made it perfectly normal and legitimate.  I was soon very happy indeed.


It was during afternoons and evenings like this that I would find my heart racing – suddenly spotting a lovely dress with its size and price tag attached hanging on the outside of a wardrobe door, or, best of all, seeing some brand new tights in their packaging lying on top of a dressing table.  This didn’t happen often but it did one or twice.  I tried to be subtle but I imagine, thinking back that my gaze must have returned to them a lot more than was normal.  Maybe this is what Jane picked up without my noticing, because, as I’ve described in my entry of 20th June 2011, after just over a year of living together Jane practically accused me of being a transvestite.  That though, is another story and those events happened a long time after my first term.  

The best experiences of all were of course seeing the girls wearing their lovely clothes – emerging into the kitchen or hallway each day wearing something new that I hadn’t seen before.  As the first weeks and months went by it became a lovely sort of lottery.  I gradually got to know the girls’ outfits but it was always a surprise to see what they were wearing.  Following Alice’s astonishing appearance one morning wearing her blue opaques, I longed to see all of my housemates in something similar.  The chance to see girls wearing tights in such a natural and unconscious way just a few inches away from me was just too exciting.  I didn’t want to be too obvious with this and risk being seen as creepy, and I was very careful to not be obvious when watching and I’d like to think I succeeded, for the most part.  Jane may well have disagreed.


Being confronted with a more intimate, physical manifestation of this wonderful young femininity was always surprising, emotional, affecting and almost overwhelming.  I would often come across the disarming sight of some worn knickers or tights rolled into a ball and semi-discarded in a corner of the bathroom or put loosely on the top the laundry basket.

For dozens of 19 years old boys this wouldn’t have been anything to get too excited or worked up about or even to notice – it was just some female underwear screwed up ready to be washed in the corner of a room after all.  For me though, it was astonishing – being this close to the female items that I’d idolised and obsessed over for so long.

I would often make up excuses to pick up items from the bathroom so as to walk past one of their rooms, just so I could grab a few extra seconds seeing the tights that either Martha, Alice or Jane had left lying upstairs.  One evening when I happened to be home alone for an hour or so, my heart skipped a beat when I spotted the legendary navy blue opaque tights that I knew belonged to Alice – the very pair I’d seen her wearing a few weeks before and then again the previous day.  They were definitely hers, and there they were, lying on the top of the wicker basket in the corner of the landing, alongside some towels and other odds and ends. 

My expert eye picked them out from ten feet away, and I needed a great deal of restraint to stop myself doing the inevitable.  Morally, I knew I shouldn’t even think of trying them on, and what’s more, I realized that if I damaged them or if any of the girls realized that I’d touched them – the entire atmosphere and dynamic amongst us would be permanently ruined.

As I’ve written in an earlier post – the girls accepted me and liked me as a kind of mixture of friend and brother.  There wasn’t any frisson of attraction between us, and we had found a happy rhythm of coexistence where the boundaries were very loose, but clearly defined and tacitly accepted and understood by us all.  I didn’t want to damage it or even risk damaging it, and so I held back from creeping off to the bathroom and wearing the lovely blue tights for myself.  Instead, I did pick them up to have a closer look.  I did this incredibly carefully, making sure that I would be able to put them back in the exact same position afterwards.  It was unlikely that any of the girls would notice if I had moved them ore of a centimeter or two on the basket lid, but I went to great trouble to make sure that the tights were returned to a near exact position.

For the minute or two that I held them, I examined the fabric carefully and savoured the familiar, yet alien sensation of the soft nylon in my hands.  I pulled and stretched the inside of the tights very gently, allowing my finger tips to make the dark blue go lighter as the tights stretched in my hands.  I watched the sheen of the lycra reflect and stretch in vertical and horizontal lines whilst my face warmed, my pulse quickened and my cock became wondrously excited in response. 

Something else caught my eye, and I realised that Alice’s tights had a little white label sown into them at the waist. This was still a relatively new thing back in the early nineties, but I had seen this done once before.  The label confirmed my judgment:

40 Denier Soft Opaque Tights
Size M
Marks and Spencer

They were good quality, department store tights, and the richness and smoothness of their finish was everything I’d expected.  I knew at that moment that I’d have to pluck up my courage to go and buy some of the exact same tights from M and S very soon.  I just had to feel these on my own legs and enjoy their soft, tight smoothness for myself.  I couldn’t bare feeling so left out and excluded, and the company of my new housemates made me pine and long for the chance to wear tights more than ever before.

Friday, 28 March 2014

I'm Wide Awake - Part 1

Please see my post of Monday, 20th June 2011 and the blog from its very beginning to fully understand the biographical context of this entry.


I hadn't been living away from home for very long.  It was November or December in 1990 and I was adjusting to a lot of new experiences:  Living in a new city hundreds of miles away from home, getting used to university life, enjoying meeting new friends and most significantly - living alongside several girls of my own age (Martha, Alice and Jane) who wore dresses, skirts and even high cut denim shorts very frequently.

My new home town was quite a contrast to quiet, suburban city where I had grown up.  The streets were not halcyon tree-lined boulevards or quadrangles of amber stone.  I certainly didn't go to Oxford or Cambridge, although I did do fairly well at school.

My college town was a curious mix of post-industrial decline and frenetic 90s commercialism, complete with rows of the usual high street shops, rowdy, neon doorway pubs and clubs by the dozen - seemingly always busy.  (Who did go out drinking at 3 o'clock on a Monday afternoon?)

I was a fish out of water for the first few weeks, spending long afternoons on the phone to old school friends and my parents, but I soon adjusted and I was about to have the first of many profound and formative experiences - all to do with girls and tights of course.

The weeks moved on, I turned 19 and the leaves on the trees outside my lecture halls and bedroom window started fading to dark red, through gold and then pale grey-yellow.  The wind got colder, the nights got darker and then... something remarkable began to happen.

In the flood of emotions and new experiences of moving away, my fetish and desire for all things girlie had dropped from my immediate consciousness.  My desires and fetish for tights though were about to be awoken and stimulated like never before as the weeks up to Christmas unfolded.

Whereas the girls in the house had spent September and October in jeans, leggings, shorts, floaty little dresses and skirts, the colder weather and the demands of fashion that autumn brought the need for them all to cover their legs in nylon.

I remember being stunned one morning seeing Alice emerge from her downstairs room in an outfit she'd worn to college many times before:  A patterned blue shirt with denim shorts.  This time though, I almost gasped when I saw that she'd added some 40 denier navy-blue opaques. They looked  staggeringly good - and it was almost surreal to be standing just a few feet away from a girl actually wearing tights - quite without any self consciousness just getting ready for college.  My heart burned and pounded in excitement and I was completely disarmed, left standing motionless in the downstairs hallway, glued to the sight in front of me. The experience was magnified by the fact that I'd rarely been that close to girls actually wearing tights in real life, (not having a sister, not having had a 'proper' girlfriend yet) and that I'd had my lust on the back burner over the previous few weeks.

I can't imagine that my eyes strayed off Alice for a second that morning as she moved around the kitchen, fixing her coffee and toast as I'd seen her a dozen times before. I still didn't fancy her as such, but I did like her tights very much and there was something extraordinary about seeing a young woman my own age just acting naturally, wearing the things I'd obsessed over for nearly all of my life just a few feet away from me.  It was an incredibly emotional and moving experience that I can still recall vividly now, so many years later.

I had trouble holding back my excitement, and remember locking myself in my room after she'd left the house.  The image of her legs in that that smooth blue nylon and lycra circulated through my mind, and even after masturbating and cuming very quickly, I had that strange feeling of desire and excitement as though the orgasm just hadn't been enough to extinguish the fire inside me. This rarely happens as many men will know, but sometimes it seems as though just one cum isn't enough and you're soon able to get hard again and try for some more satisfying relief.

Little did I realise that this was only the beginning of a rather challenging period for a young cross dresser living with three girls for the first time.

Tuesday, 10 December 2013

Who Could Possibly Get Tired Of This?

I'm far from bored with my blog!  Sharing my thoughts about my beloved tights here means the world to me, but of late, I really haven't had the opportunity to give the stories the time and space they deserve.  I need my fix desperately, and the only thing that makes me as happy as actually looking and wearing tights is writing about them here.

Rather than write rushed and abbreviated versions of the stories I want to share, I'm holding back and biding my time for now.  My earlier posts have allowed me to share everything honestly, and this is how I plan to continue.

I urge all new visitors to go back to June 2011 and read forwards in order to catch up with all of experiences with tights; and previous visitors to hold on for now, and check Twitter for some updates when they've been posted.

Enjoy your Christmas preparations until I post again!

Lots of love from Samantha Denier.

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

A Sudden Surprise

I'm feeling incredibly happy at the moment, especially compared to where I was just a few months ago. I've managed to sneak out in some black tights once or twice and have a little midnight walk around the village, safe in the knowledge that it's so dark no one could see what I was wearing.

Like before, I pulled my tights on in the downstairs bathroom, then slipped my pyjamas over the top.  Once I was a safe distance from the house, I pulled the trousers over my feet and there I was - exposed and vulnerable in my jacket, boots, knickers and tights, just like a girl wearing a very short little dress.  It felt incredible!  The chill of the breeze blowing around my tights was extraordinary and I wish I could somehow bottle the sensation and revisit it more easily.

I managed more than ten minutes each time, and I'm getting braver.  Before too long I'm going to take the big step I've always dreamed of, and get myself fully dressed and made up convincingly at a dressing service and take a short walk out into the real world - but more about that later.


My big surprise came today at work.  One of the youngest women in the office was wearing a short red dress today - one that was a little more casual than usual, and, of course, she had teamed it with some lovely black opaque tights.  They were expensive tights too - my seasoned eye had instantly clocked and admired them - they had a really smooth, even finish and the quality of the sheen and the yarn looked lovely.  A pretty girl, in a pretty dress, wearing wonderrful tights, no less!

Out of the blue this morning, as she was walking to her office she reached down to adjust her dress, and the thing that I often fantasise about happened right in front of my eyes - you can guess what!

For a brief few seconds, four or five at the most, her dress rode up enough for me to see nearly all of her knickers, and the seam and gusset of her tights.  She was wearing little patterned knickers underneath her opaques, but for moment, without her even knowing or realising her mistake (she'd pulled her dress up too forcefully), there was her little tummy - beautifully bisected by the vertical central seam leading to the little shaded diamond of the cotton gusset that vanished between her thighs.

You can imagine my reaction.  It all happened so quickly that I couldn't really react - and the girl had quickly corrected her dress before noticing if anyone had seen her.  Also, she seemed absolutely unfazed - and I genuinely believe that she hadn't realised just how much of herself she'd just inadvertently shown off.


When this happens, I'm actually quite a gentleman.  When I've noticed a lady accidentally flashing on the train, or in the office or in public, I usually always avert my eyes in embarrassment for her, and so as to not appear like a creep as well.  Many men do this, despite their instinct wanting them to check out as much of the view as possible.  Today happened so quickly though that I didn't get the chance to do anything except see the complete picture.  On the one hand I feel sleazy, but part of me is still buzzing from the thrill and the wonderful sight that I saw and the girl herself seemed unbothered by the whole thing.

The photos attached are found images and not from today, but this certainly gives you an idea of what I was lucky enough to get a little sight of.  Forgive this rather lecherous post today, but I'm sure you'll realise why I felt compelled to share it!

I'll be back with more entries soon, hopefully a lot sooner than my previous posts.

Love 'till then,

Sunday, 29 September 2013

Being With Girls

I know that most men find images and scenarios of girls together exciting, but when there are tights involved, it really does add a certain extra spice for me as well.

Some of my earlier fantasies from the ages of 8, 9 or 10 (before my fetish for tights became sexualised) were modelled around wearing tights - or being forced to wear female items alongside girls - usually as the only boy.  I've written before about a fantasy I had about having to wear tights home from school, as my own clothes had become damaged at school and as a last resort my teacher had found me a skirt and tights to spare my modesty for the walk home.  (June 12th 2012 entry.)

Of course, in the fantasy, nobody cared less, least alone my mother at the school gates that evening, or the older girl from across the street who I always walked home with.  It was simply taken that I'd had to wear them that day - and that was that.

This fantasy formed in my head from a very early age, alongside others, and multiplied and became increasing elaborate and precise as I got older.  By my teenage years, I had dozens of scenarios inside my head that I would happily replay for hours on end - in boring lessons at school, walking home, in bed at night or whilst masturbating once I'd become old enough to do it.

The whole enforcement side of cross-dressing (you have to wear tights for the school play, you have to wear them because it's for the town parade, you have to wear them because your own shorts are ripped and your teacher insists you wear tights for rest of the day) appealed to me when I was younger as it legitimised my secret desires.

As I got older, the legitimising angle developed, and so my fantasies would be exclusively about girls and women in tights alongside me, and I would either be a solitary male in the fantasy scenario - the women alongside me encouraging and enjoying my cross-dressing or I would simply imagine myself as a woman.

I do have a lot of fantasy scenarios to share, although I appreciate that these are very much a matter of personal taste.  As well as tell some of these I plan to share some more personal reflections and observations about tights, and share my experiences of dressing services.

As ever, I welcome all communications and look forward to sharing some comments with you soon.

It's nice to be back having a had a bit of break with the blog over the summer, and whilst it is always a challenge to find the time to contribute longer items, I do have a long list of topics to get through, and so so please keep checking back.

Also, follow Samantha Denier on Twitter as I always post a tweet when I update the blog.

Much love for now,

Sunday, 14 July 2013

The Transvestite Scale From 1 To 10

A great view...

A good watch...

A nice view of some nice legs...

Wonderfully brave..I'm very jealous of you!

If you could shave, you'd get away with being a girl...

Lovely tights - shame about your hairs though Samantha - they really do have to go!

All of the above are comments about my last post where I was brave enough to put up some video of myself, as Samantha, on the blog for the first time. Whilst I'm not confident or brave enough to show you any more of myself for now, the enthusiastic comments I've received have given me the encouragement to post another clip which I hope to film before the end of the summer.


As time has gone on, the blog has allowed me to share a great many of my stores and experiences. There are still a few major milestones to write up for you about my lifelong adoration of tights, including the next piece I'm planning. This will be about how my fascination for tights became more sexualised and developed into a similar obsession with other female clothes. The end result was a desire to cross-dress, and make a female version of myself.

I find it interesting that some men have a love of tights, but stop there at that point and don't feel a similar fascination for any other female clothing - panties, swimsuits and of course, skirts and dresses. They're at a 1 or 2 out of 10 on the 'Tranny Scale' if you can forgive the rather crude term. Their fetish has a clear boundary and they're not interested in going any further with their feminisation.

Others have gone to the other end of the spectrum, and they're wonderfully confident about dressing and showing themselves off in their female guises.  Eddie Izzard is a classic example of a confident transvestite - a man who is happy to show and exhibit his feminine obsessions, but who who isn't a drag queen or female impersonator. He'd be a 10 on the scale.   I'm about halfway down the line, but I know deep down that I'm going to have to move up to a 7 or an 8 to be true to myself. The challenge will be to find a way of getting there safely!

As a boy it was only tights that caught my attention, and, as I'll describe later, it was with puberty and my growing sexual attraction to girls in pretty outfits that my interest grew into a full-blown desire to cross-dress.

I still go through phases with my transvestism. Some months I find my teenage interest in lycra, dancewear and leotards back in the forefront of my obsession. At others, I'm consumed with the freedom of dresses - and I go to sleep with vivid fantasies playing in my mind where I imagine myself walking through shops, restaurants and hotels wearing any number of beautiful dresses: The free-flowing, knee-length summer flowery frock to the short, tight black cocktail dress - always worn with the very best tights, shoes or boots or course.

These fantasies are worth a thousand words each, and so I wont rush them out now!  There's simply too much to enjoy and savour about them and I'm looking forward to writing them all down for you.

As a teenager, I had an incredibly erotic experience when I had a first person fantasy like this and it took on a sexual dimension for the very first time. Like all formative experiences, it's etched very deeply into my memory and I can still conjure every detail of the scenario. I'll write this and share it with you soon as well.

I'll be posting the next entires soon, lots of love until then,
Samantha Denier.

Monday, 24 June 2013

One Small Step For A Girl...

Yes, for any typical girl, my walk last night was just a small step into the grass.  But for me of course, it was a giant leap - a chance for Samantha to go outside and get some fresh air around her legs for the first time in ages. You've no idea how good it felt to get the tights around me once again, and the thrill of going out in public, albeit in a deserted field made the little adventure a real thrill. I couldn't resist showing you a few souvenirs right away!

Now, regular visitors here will know of the worries I've had over my legs and my desire to keep them feminine, hairless and silky smooth. I long more than anything to have smooth legs and actually wear my tights properly, but my family and 'regular' male life mean that I just can't do it. In fact, I haven't had a completely smooth pair of legs since I was 24 years old, when Katie (my first girlfriend) encouraged me to shave and wax them with her one evening. That's a story for another day, though.

Forgive the hairs then that you can see through my tights here in these photos and video. As promised, I've enclosed some images of my midnight walk from yesterday. I can't tell you the fun of slipping off my jeans in the dark, using just my mobile phone to light the way in my skirt and tights!

As I've thought to myself every day for the last 36 years, girls are just so incredibly, amazingly lucky to be able to wear tights every day. I swear I would never, even for a second take the joy of being able to wear tights each day for granted.  Feeling the grasses brush gently past my legs, and sensing the breeze against me was absolutely divine last night. So, whilst in reality, the photos show some images that aren't really that seductive, in my mind, as Samantha last night I felt better than I have for a long, long time.

I'm determined to do it again soon. Let me know what you think, and do share any adventures like that this that you've experienced too. I never get bored of hearing about wearing tights!

The video is short, and please remember that I had to film this carrying my phone in the darkness which wasn't easy. Again, any comments or questions please do get in touch.

Sunday, 23 June 2013

I Did It! The Details And Photos Will Follow

Well, haven't I had the most exciting little walk!

Samantha rarely, if ever gets the chance to go out, but tonight she's had over an hour in the glorious moonlight, dressed in her beloved 60 denier tights - black opaques of course - and a funky little skirt that I've had since the 1990s but never worn out my bedroom.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was so desperate to get out in my female clothes again this week that I resolved to go out late at night and get changed in the open air. I went to the fields at the edge of my village so that I could be sure I was alone and no one would see me. The chance to actually follow this through came tonight, and let me tell you, it didn't disappoint.

Most excitingly, I even managed to use my phone to shoot a few photos and video of the experience. As soon as I'm able, I'll trim them down and write the full story of Samantha's Midsummer midnight adventure.

Enjoy this rather nice snapshot until then, and if you don't already, please follow me on Twitter.

Love from Samantha

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Do You Find Womens' Dancewear Exciting Too? / A Late Night Walk In Tights, Tonight

As I've written one or two times in the past, I find girls dressed in leotards, one-piece swimsuits and any tight fitting dance and performance wear a really big turn on.

Whilst tights are undoubtedly top of my female clothing list (and always will be), leotards and dancewear are also special and at various times in my life have been something of an obsession as well.

In a forthcoming post I'll talk about how I longed for the chance to try a one-piece bodysuit on when I was a teenager - driven mad by seeing the girls in my class at school wearing them every week for their aerobics lessons; and driven to distraction just as much by the sight of women in shiny, smooth lycra in seemingly every 1980s pop music video that I watched compulsively on MTV as I grew up.

The photos below got me started on this particular topic. Last week, the shadow perfumers Attraction won the Britain's Got Talent Final. I'm not a fan of the show and didn't see it live, but the publicity photos of the winners soon made me wish that I had.

I can't tell you the joy of seeing some lovely black tights and leotards first thing on a Monday morning when you first turn on the computer and arrive at your homepage. There, waiting for me were these lovely girls - members of the winning troupe, standing, smiling and hugging in the photos - beautifully dressed in their performance wear: Black leotards with footless opaque dance tights. At first, since it was a cropped image I thought the girls were in 'real' opaques, as they looked thinner and shinier than dance tights. The other photos showed me that they were, in fact, dance tights - or at least they were cut or customised regular 60 deniers to allow the girls to move on stage without slipping.

In case you're from outside the UK or haven't yet seen any images of Attraction, I hope you find these samples from around the Net exciting.  There are lots of other images and videos online too, but I thought you'd appreciate these as a starting point.


Tonight, I've decided to commit to to another short nighttime walk dressed in some tights. I'm feeling especially frustrated at the moment since it's been a while since I've worn any tights at all, and my wife, April, happened to spend quite a few days wearing them last week in the slightly cooler weather.

As I've written before, April enjoys wearing her tights anyway and does still wear them on occasions in the summer, especially for work, but last week was unusual since she wore 40 denier opaques in black, chocolate brown or navy blue everyday. Last Friday was especially good as she spent a good 20 minutes padding around the house in her blouse and tights - putting her things together, doing her hair, arranging the kids' breakfast and eventually ironing her long cotton skirt.

I even got the chance to nuzzle behind her in the kitchen, give her a lovely hug and then smooth my hands down so that they wrapped around her upper thighs.  Her tights felt unbelievably good after a break of goodness knows how long!  April was trying to fix something in the kitchen at the same time and she'll usually shrug me off when I do this, but last week was different. She indulged me for a good minute or so as my palms smoothed up and down her thighs and then up onto her her tummy. I pawed at her front seam and patted her knickers before giving her bottom a very good stroking, whilst she patiently allowed my indulgence and carried on tending to the morning routine. Sensing my time was running out, I gave her a final pat on the bum and smoothed my fingertips over the rear seam and the outline of her knickers - she was wearing pink and white striped cotton 'everyday' panties underneath, but of course, under that think dark nylon they looked amazing.

So, I'm feeling relatively optimistic that April is softening a little again towards my fetish. It's been quite a while since she's given herself up to me like that, knowing that I'm getting great pleasure from stroking her in her tights. Hopefully this will lead us back to where we were a few years ago, when she was completely secure with my fetish and desire to cross-dress in private.

Later, I'm planning to pull some black opaques on again and hide them under my jeans when I head out for a late, ten minute dog walk.  Instead of my usual route, I'll go down to the edge of the village where the houses end, and then head off across the fields in the moonlight - then, I can slip off the jeans and the fun really begins! My hoodie can then be pulled down to form a very short mini dress - and I'm free to be Samantha once again, at least for a few private minutes in the moonlight.

If I can, I'll even be brave and take a few photos on my phone and post them in a later this week.

Lots of love 'till then,

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Sit Tight ... New, Longer Blog Entries Are On Their Way

Thank you for the wonderful comments and support about my last few extended entires here on my blog.  I am always grateful for comments and stories, and I do plan to share some other readers' experiences soon, anonymously of course.

If you can imagine, sitting alone at the laptop for an hour or so late at night working on I Love Wearing Tights can sometimes be difficult to accommodate alongside my 'normal life', and so the daily emails, comments, photos and even invitations I get are always welcome - even if some of them are something of a surprise!

It really does seem as though there are thousands of like-minded men (and even a few real women) who share my passion for all things nylon, and feminine.  It's brilliant to read other people's stories, especially when I'm having to go through a lean patch, not getting to wear any tights at all due to a busy schedule at home.

I hope to share some longer entries with you again soon, and I'd be grateful for any suggestions for future stories and posts.

In the meantime, enjoy these lovely photos and and spend an hour or two wishing the blonde girl was you.  She really is quite special isn't she, and her opaques are the reason why nylon was invented!

See you soon, love from Samantha.