As a teenager, there was an older friend of the family that eventually glommed onto me and I näively hung around him. When no-one was at his home over weekends, he invited me there for sleepovers. If I recall correctly, on most of these times, he suggested that I put on a bra and stuffed the cups with socks or something. And, yes, we mutually masturbated each other, but that was about it. This predatory relationship didn’t last all that long and I stopped it, resenting him. Today, this would be called grooming.
The crossdressing part was there, but it didn’t really do anything for me sexually or emotionally, which I am sure was one of his goals. It was only underwear, in bed, and not outer clothes. We just didn’t get there.
I remember that he glommed onto another person in my highschool and, later, he was working his way up in his church administration. He had a short life and I don’t think that he lived much beyond 30-35 or so, probably saving others from him.
So, don’t worry about me. No pitty parties, please. It was not something that ever scarred me, but it was my first, real introduction to crossdressing of a sort. It is what it is.