Dear Susan,

I hope I may call you that. I am very interested in your magazine, and it was a great relief to find someone running a site like this. Your articles and letters are very interesting, and I spend a lot of time reading them. Keep up the great work; it's much appreciated.

My own experience with petticoating began when I was 13. At the time I lived in Surrey, and it must have been 1973 or 1974 when this incident happened. I went to stay with an aunt in Camberley, my cousins were girls and we did not get on very well, especially as I had to stay in the room of my cousin, whom I will call Jill.

It was a typical girl's room: pink walls, flowered bed linen etc, and on this particular day I had upset Jill by playing a prank on her - I told her her boyfriend had just dumped her. Jill was 14, and of course she was upset badly, and told her mum. To cut a long story short I was found out, and sent to my room as a punishment. Jill came in and said she will get her revenge.

I just laughed it off, but should have taken heed, as the next thing she went storming off in anger to find her mum, and the next thing I knew was that Aunt Kim was in the room with Jill having a go at me about - believe it or not - me playing about with her daughter's clothes which I had never done without making sure it was safe, so I denied it of course.

However, Jill had told her mum so convincingly that I was not believed how ever much I protested my innocence, and my aunt said that as I was playing about with girls' clothes then that is what my punishment would be. She then told Jill to get out some clothes for me to wear, and what she chose made my cringe with shame and embarrassment.

Gleefully she held up in front of me a pair of yellow nylon panties with flowers on them, and plenty of lace around the waist and leg holes, a matching lacy vest (these were Tescos  made), then a pale pink tee-shirt with 'Girls are Groovy' and a picture of Strawberry Shortcake on it, then a little white pleated skirt, and then white knee-hi socks with flowers running down the side of them, and finally brown sandals.

There was no way I was going to wear that lot until my aunt produced a cane, and I felt it a couple of times. Then I got dressed very smartly - I thought that this would be the end of it but no, my finger nails were painted pink, and my hair combed back and a slide put in it, that is how I stayed for the rest of the time I was there. We went out a couple of times, and I got funny looks and comments, but all my aunt said to anyone who seemed interested was that it was a punishment for playing a nasty prank on my cousin.

Jill loved it, and took every chance she could get to embarrass me in front of her friends, and if we went to somewhere or other for a snack I had to wait on them hand and foot. What a way to learn a lesson - I laugh about it today, but at the time it was not funny at the time. Be warned, it could happen to you.

I am sorry this is so long, but it was a hard lesson learned. I suppose this is why I am today still dressing when I can. I have been caught a few times by my wife, but she does not understand, and we have nearly split up twice.
Thanks for a wonderful site,

Richard
(Please will you withhold my name and email address if you decide to publish this letter).

This letter is quite similar to another that I am publishing in this issue. The outfit that Richard was made to wear sounds very sweet. It is just a pity that his wife does not understand the need for petticoat discipline that can grow out of an event like this, especially if it happens at the dawning of puberty. Richard, hjave you tried to show your wife this site? Would the article submitted by Darlene, a woman who does feel warmly towards cross-dressing, be of any help?
Susan