Sara by Sara

Then an awful thought occurred to me. I actually have to take these items up to the counter, panties, girly outfits, a dildo and some lube, and check them out. It was one thing to be found out by an unknown stranger who obviously shared at least some part of my perversion in a bathroom stall, but here I was…in a brightly lit store…with several other customers milling around…holding my panties and girly outfits and lube and dildo. Looking around I was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice, or care. But I froze in horror when i saw that the cash register was tended by a really hot chick…the kind that never looked at me except dismissively. She became a metaphor for every girl who had rejected me, for every girl who unknown to me, must have laughed at the ridiculous thought of me with no clothes on. I now had to go before her and by tendering these items for purchase declare to her and all the girls she represented in my mind that I was giving up on being a man…that I was instead the most laughable, contemptible, ridiculous, and humiliating citizen of the world of sex, a sissy faggot crossdressing boy.
My first reaction was to feel a re-emergence of my male impulses…put this stuff away; don’t give up the fight; be a man. But as I pondered that option, I grew weary at the remembrance of all the past failures…I soon realized that these strange, new, and intoxicating sensations had rushed upon the shore of my sexuality like a tidal wave, and had washed away whatever weakening resolve I had to continue to wage that losing battle.
My second reaction was to realize that, for the second time that day, I was frozen between terror and ecstasy. I was so close to living out these newfound fantasies in the privacy of my apartment that I could taste it. But I couldn’t even work up the image of having the courage to actually approach the check out counter and present these items…to her… for purchase. I don’t know how much time passed as I made a series of false starts to the counter. But finally I resolved to give up and go home empty handed. It was then that the calculus was no longer one of fear vs. ecstasy, but the fear of the embarrassment of actually purchasing these items vs. the fear of going through this long rainy night alone…yes, I actually though of being with this dido as being not alone.