I have been a cross-dresser since my teenage years, though I am completely straight. I don't generally cross-dress fully (certainly not outdoors, as I blatantly look like a man in a dress), but I like wearing women's foundations - firm girdles and longline bras.

A few years ago, this silly fantasy got into my head about what it would be like to be used for sex by another man. I almost took action to find out on several occasions, but always chickened out. But, last summer, I registered with a sex site and requested a meeting for gay sex. Within a matter of minutes, I had a reply - my mouth was dry and my heart pounding as I agreed to meet up immediately. He suggested a public toilet on the other side of town (a bit seedy, I know), and I went to meet him. As he came into the toilet, my heart sank as I knew immediately that this was now reality, not fantasy, and I didn't want to go through with it. But I went with him into a cubicle anyway, took down my trousers, girdle, tights and panties and leant against the wall as he stepped up behind me. Thankfully, he was very gentle as he penetrated me. The pain subsided very quickly, and I just stared wide-eyed at the wall, unable to believe what was happening as he got into his rhythm. Within a couple of minutes I heard him grunting, then he stopped. Only then did I realise that he'd ejaculated...inside me. I couldn't get home quickly enough, feeling the horrible slipperiness between my buttocks and knowing exactly what it was. I showered as soon as I got home, and I was in a near state of shock for days at the realisation of what I'd done.

Thankfully, that killed my fantasy stone dead. I rationalised it as something that I needed to do once, and that I'd be free of this stupid urge from now on.

Unfortunately, it's back. I found out, by accident, where there is a local meeting place where gay men go for sex. The picture in my mind is now one of me turning up, fully cross-dressed, taking my dress and petticoat off, sliding up my open girdle (so that my lover-to-be can have access without me having to take my girdle off) then lying on the back seat of my car (or in someone's van or truck) in my girdle, bra and stockings, hands cuffed behind my back, while one after another they come in and use me. I've been on Amazon and have picked out a new dress and shoes. While I was there, I found out they do sex toys, and I found a gag that will force the wearer to keep their mouth open for oral sex. Dress, shoes, handcuffs and gag are all in my basket just waiting to be bought.

At the back of my mind, I know that, if I was stupid enough to go through with it, the reality would be even more appalling than last year's squalid encounter. Only this time I would have to have sex 5 or 10 or more men, not just the one. I just know that, in a moment of weakness, I'm going to buy all this stuff. And that, at some point this summer, I'm going to spend the worst night of my life, handcuffed and gagged in the back of some dirty van, the awful reality of the situation sinking in just as it did in that toilet last year, but unable to do anything but writhe around in shame and revulsion as I have to endure unprotected anal or oral sex again, and again, and again as the minutes (hours?) crawl past. I'm almost in tears as I write this, but I'm not going to be able to stop myself.

I just don't understand why part of me wants to inflict this on myself.