Michael Begins His Exploration

The last year had been tough for Michael. His porn collection had not only been found on his computer by his wife of ten years, but she had no idea of his fetish having taken on a life of its own, and she divorced him for it.

Looking back, he could not really blame her. She had indulged his passion for stockings by wearing them almost whenever they had sex, kept her toenails painted in his favorite dark colors, had a collection of high heeled shoes(almost all open toed, with stiletto heels) that Imelda Marcos would have been proud of, and had even role played his ultimate cuckold fetishes to varying degrees, including the occasional tryst with men, though never in his presence.

A tolerant and open minded woman, a perfect wife really. So why had he hidden from her the emails to and from transvestites, profiles on sites that catered largely to crossdressers, and of course, his membership to a gay bath house that clearly inferred he was either participating, or was intending to, in an extra marital liaison or ten?

She felt betrayed, and as she left, she opened up on him. She called him a closet fag, told him she would not be surprised if he dressed as a woman in private, and said she wanted nothing more to do with him. He was seedy, she continued, dirty, and disgusting. She was embarrassed for him, and would not be a part of whatever kinky fantasies he wanted to indulge.

That was six months ago. The realisation struck Michael literally with the sounds of her earnest accusations and insults still ringing in his ears. He was alone in his marital home, the sound of silence painfully parked in his head.

She picked up her clothes, had a removal team come and lift away some of the heavier pieces of furniture, and he recalled vividly, as the van made its final exit from his driveway that he had really screwed this up.

A month or so later, as he was carrying his trash can to the kerb, the clanking of the liquor bottles rudely tormented him with the understanding he was not taking the split well. She was not coming back, and his new best friend was anything with vodka in it.

Epiphanies are quite often painful, and Michael could not shy away from the fact that he was just another sorry drunk, who had let the best thing he had, get away from him, and why? His urges could not be controlled, and he had smashed the bridge of trust into a thousand pieces.

Oddly, almost daily, he found himself creeping back to the old websites that had titillated him so much and that had cost him everything. Like an alcoholic who has laid off the booze for a while, and then indulges just one more drink, he was sure he had his sickness under control. But he didn't.....

It was a late finish at work. Michael worked in an Information technology company. He was the Business Manager, and as such, had his own office. Janet, his secretary and personal assistant, was gone for the day. Darkness had replaced daylight, and nobody was left in the office. Not even Brad, the company CEO, who was almost always the last person to leave, had stayed. The glow of his computer screen was the only light in the room, and his screensaver fish were swimming around in their virtual tank.

Of course, Michael did not necessarily realise it at that exact moment, but the next ten minutes would change the course of his life forever.....

As he typed in the friend finder website into his search engine, the old familiar screen popped up. Asking for his profile and password, without listening to the silent imaginary angel on his shoulder screaming for him not to, he settled down to browse the profiles and look at the emails he had not opened in many months.

"Whoa, 101 unopened emails," he muttered, pleased with himself that there had been so much interest. Delving a little more, his ego took a small knock when over 90 of them turned out to be spam and internal messages from the website itself.

Half an hour later, he had filtered out 5 promising notes, three from contacts he had already made, and two new profiles who had seemed to like what he had said.

"I need to put some pictures up on here, and who knows what response I might get," he contemplated.

With that thought, he looked at the clock on his wall and decided enough was enough for the day. 10pm was late enough....

In his car on the short drive back to his home, his mind started filling up with all sorts of erotic thoughts. The most insistent was his desire, no, his NEED to go to the local Walmart.

As he pulled up into the parking lot, Michael drew the car to a stop, and after grabbing his wallet from the center console, made his way into the superstore.

His heart raced as he walked towards the one focus of his need at that time, and after a few lefts and rights, he finally stood in front of the aisle he craved, the hosiery section.

At that time of the night, there were more kids stacking shelves than there were patrons, and this gave him the comfort he needed, as he was able to browse the different pantyhose and stocking styles.

Michael was a lithely built man, and had lost weight in the aftermath of his domestic trouble, and so it was that when he picked up a pair of barely black stockings, he looked at the sizing chart on the back of the packet and confirmed he was a size D. His heart was pattering at ninety beats or more per minute, and he felt an old stirring in his groin. He was excited about what he was doing, and as he furtively checked to see nobody was looking at him, he set about picking six pairs of stockings in varying shades, all in size D.

His head was daring him to wander over to the lingerie section to look for a garter belt next, and where they were hanging, the raciest underwear Walmart had to offer, were all there too. Before he knew it, his hand basket contained not just the stockings, but a black and white garter belt, size 12, and three pairs of totally sheer panties, with a full derriere, black, pink and white.

Michael could not remember the last time he was as nervous about approaching the checkout as he was now. It was almost empty in the store, and yet every step towards the cash register, occupied by a sullen looking sixty year old woman, seemed to be as though he was wading in dread.

As he put the basket in front of her, she asked the obligatory "Did you find everything you wanted, Sir?" salutation.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you. If none of these fit, can I bring them back?" he smiled as he imagined saying the words out loud.

"Yes thanks," was the censored and appropriate response.

$85 later, and a Walmart plastic carrier in hand, he exited the store into the cool night, the most liberating elation coursing through his veins.

Michael threw the bag into the front seat, and started his car, driving slowly to the exit point of the parking lot. Shoe World was right in front of him, and involuntarily, his heart started to pound out of his chest.

Could he really go in there? He drew up to the front of the store and felt a kick of disappointment in his gut that the store had closed for the evening. But the seed was planted......

His mind in a haze of erotica, he scarcely noticed when he pulled into the driveway, parking next to his home. He did not notice the forboding darkness anymore as he walked through the lobby into his kitchen. He had not picked his mail from the box, nor had he poured himself a drink from the unopened Skyy, when he opened the door to his bedroom. He took off his jacket, and looked at the Walmart bag he had in his hand. He emptied the contents onto the bed, and an overwhelming feeling of relief and excitement enveloped him.