I've always had some sort of facial hair since my college days. It was just easier to let it grow, and eventually I had a beard.
It's funny how desires change. My beard was never really thick along my jawline, just barely enough to call it a beard, and I used to wish that my facial hair was thicker, like a manly man.
I guess I was still convincing myself of the myth that I was a real man back then. Recently, my facial hair has been intermittent. Sometimes, when I know I want to go on an outing, I shave it off. Of course, if I'm going to go out and wear makeup, I know I need to shave as closely as possible, and that means against the grain.
I've realized something in the few times that I have done this. The first time I shave, my face lets me get away with shaving against the grain. My face is baby smooth, and besides for a few nicks, it's perfect for putting on a layer of foundation over. I usually wait a few hours to let my skin rest before I put the foundation on though.
The first time I do it, it goes well. My face is smooth, and there is little sign of stubble. I can go out on a crossdressing adventure and have fun.
In the few times when I did have my crossdressing outings, I wanted to go several days in a row, and continued to shave. What I've noticed is that the second and third day isn't so kind on my skin.
That's the problem that I've run into. The second time that I shave against the grain, I'll notice a few bumps forming on my lip The third day in a row, it really comes back even more, and the thing is, the raw, bumpy, irritated skin does not look feminine, and all the foundation in the world will not cover it.
I even tried shaving with conditioner, like I read on another blog, but that didn't seem to help.
For now, I've come to realize that I need to let my skin rest. I haven't figured out a magical formula yet, but I know one day of a fresh face means a few days after when I cannot go out at all.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Taking Care of Your Nails
I don't know why, maybe because I'm a little lazy, or maybe I secretly have always wanted to be a girl, but I've always let my nails grow long. Sometimes I let them get really long, and my wife will make me cut them, but for the most part they stay at a decent length for a girl like me.
And you know what? Most people don't even notice. I like keeping them long, but lately I've noticed that they need a little maintenance. The most important reason for me is for the protection of my delicates. Yes, more than once, I've had that tiny, tiny jagged edge on one on my nails, and put on some panties or stockings, and snap I tug out one of the tiny fibers in my clothing.
If you're like me, you've probably spent a lot of time and money on your feminine things, and to get a snag in something, no matter how tiny, can be heartbreaking.
Lately, I've been filing my nails. I did it a few times in the past to feel girly, but to tell the truth, it wasn't doing anything for me, but recently, I've been watching TV, and filing my nails to get them nice and smooth and even. All of a sudden, it hit me, "Wow, this is exactly what a girl would do!"
It felt relaxing and engaging, and I suddenly realized that because I wasn't doing it to play a role, I was doing it for a practical purpose, it felt good, and one of those girly feelings went through my body as I relaxed and made my nails perfect in my spare time!
Of course, I'm still an amateur. There's probably a lot more that I need to learn, but I feel like I've begun a new chapter in my life.
And you know what? Most people don't even notice. I like keeping them long, but lately I've noticed that they need a little maintenance. The most important reason for me is for the protection of my delicates. Yes, more than once, I've had that tiny, tiny jagged edge on one on my nails, and put on some panties or stockings, and snap I tug out one of the tiny fibers in my clothing.
If you're like me, you've probably spent a lot of time and money on your feminine things, and to get a snag in something, no matter how tiny, can be heartbreaking.
Lately, I've been filing my nails. I did it a few times in the past to feel girly, but to tell the truth, it wasn't doing anything for me, but recently, I've been watching TV, and filing my nails to get them nice and smooth and even. All of a sudden, it hit me, "Wow, this is exactly what a girl would do!"
It felt relaxing and engaging, and I suddenly realized that because I wasn't doing it to play a role, I was doing it for a practical purpose, it felt good, and one of those girly feelings went through my body as I relaxed and made my nails perfect in my spare time!
Of course, I'm still an amateur. There's probably a lot more that I need to learn, but I feel like I've begun a new chapter in my life.
Anal Play: Early Discoveries
I never thought that I'd stick something up my butt to have a good time. It just seemed so weird, and if I asked my old self about it, I would have made a face showing my distaste for such an odd thought.
But as I've stuck my toe into the land of sissy delights, I've become curious to try this forbidden fruit.
I bought a strapon a few years ago and asked my wife to use it on me. It probably wasn't the best idea to just spring that on her, but she had expressed a desire to do it a few years earlier, and I was the hesitant one back then.
She flatly refused, and it was put in the closet for a rainy day. As I began exploring sissy dares and assignments, I found one that dared the reader to suck on a dildo.
"I have a dildo in my closet," I thought, and decided to go get it.
Of course, there was a huge reluctance in my mind to do it. I didn't want to do something gay, but as I secured the strapon to the pillow, I dared myself to do it, and it only took a little kissing and licking to have me mess up my panties after a few seconds.
Eventually, I began to play with it a little more each time, and one day I decided to stick it in my ass.
"I'm going to do it," I told myself, and pushed it up against my asshole.
It was difficult to push in, but eventually it started to part my sphincter, and I had an incredible feeling like I was going to shit all over the place. Scared, I put it away for a long time.
On another occasion, I decided to try it again, and eventually put it in. I had to stop and breathe for a while, and eventually tried to get pleasure, but for the most part, just felt discomfort - nothing painful, but just full, and it stimulated my feeling of defecation.
Still, I stuck with it, and each time became a little more comfortable with. It wasn't really the most erotic thing - in fact, it kind of made my erection go away at times.
I went through a period where I would dildo myself so that I wouldn't cum, and trying to see if I could have a sissy orgasm. It never happened.
What I did end up finding was that stimulating my prostrate, along with masturbation was a bit pleasurable.
But as I've stuck my toe into the land of sissy delights, I've become curious to try this forbidden fruit.
I bought a strapon a few years ago and asked my wife to use it on me. It probably wasn't the best idea to just spring that on her, but she had expressed a desire to do it a few years earlier, and I was the hesitant one back then.
She flatly refused, and it was put in the closet for a rainy day. As I began exploring sissy dares and assignments, I found one that dared the reader to suck on a dildo.
"I have a dildo in my closet," I thought, and decided to go get it.
Of course, there was a huge reluctance in my mind to do it. I didn't want to do something gay, but as I secured the strapon to the pillow, I dared myself to do it, and it only took a little kissing and licking to have me mess up my panties after a few seconds.
Eventually, I began to play with it a little more each time, and one day I decided to stick it in my ass.
"I'm going to do it," I told myself, and pushed it up against my asshole.
It was difficult to push in, but eventually it started to part my sphincter, and I had an incredible feeling like I was going to shit all over the place. Scared, I put it away for a long time.
On another occasion, I decided to try it again, and eventually put it in. I had to stop and breathe for a while, and eventually tried to get pleasure, but for the most part, just felt discomfort - nothing painful, but just full, and it stimulated my feeling of defecation.
Still, I stuck with it, and each time became a little more comfortable with. It wasn't really the most erotic thing - in fact, it kind of made my erection go away at times.
I went through a period where I would dildo myself so that I wouldn't cum, and trying to see if I could have a sissy orgasm. It never happened.
What I did end up finding was that stimulating my prostrate, along with masturbation was a bit pleasurable.
Tucking and Panties: Looking and Feeling Right
I'm at a point where I can tuck and just put on a regular pair of panties, and my balls tend to stay tucked away for a while. The best way to stay tucked is probably to get some tight shapewear or tape, but for me that seems to take some of the soft, feminine feel away from my fantasy.
I do have a panty girdle that I bought inspired by reading Daphne's Lipstick Discipline story. It's kind of sexy in a different way than a pair of silky panties. The binding feel of all those rubber threads interwoven in the panties, squeezing you tight will render any thoughts of rubbing or touching yourself useless. It's also good for tucking. It will keep you held in for a while, but even a tightly pulled up panty girdle by itself will start to slip down after a while.
I just like silky panties - briefs to be specific - and I've found out through practice that I can tuck and pull them up tight, creating enough tension to hold me in for several hours sometimes.
It all started with some internet exploration. I had never heard of tucking before, but curious, I decided to try it. It was a bit painful at first, but after a few attempts, I kind of figured it out. It wasn't the sexiest of things for me at the time, but I did notice the way it made me look down there, and it intrigued me.
I had always worn my panties like I would male underwear, and they rested lower on my waist, giving my cock room to rest at the front of my legs like it always has, and now that I reflect on it, looking at myself in the mirror, I probably looked like I was wearing silky men's underwear.
One day, though, inspired by a desire for chastity, so I could enjoy my dressing for more than a few impassioned minutes, I decided to tuck. Pulling up my panties, there was no longer that four or five inch space of resistance where my balls usually were. The panties seemed to want to keep sliding up.
At first, it felt kind of weird to me pulling them up that far because I wasn't used to it, but eventually I pulled them up tightly against my crotch. It looked weird to me seeing the panties so high on my waist (they were briefs after all) but the more I looked at them, I noticed two things: my crotch looked so feminine, and the high waist was where the panties were supposed to hit.
The realization kind of hit me then. This is the way they are supposed to look. Now, I will have it no other way. If I wear panties, and see a bulge in them, they just look like men's underwear to me, especially bikinis. So if you want to be a true sissy, forsake the silky feeling of the panties against your dick, and tuck yourself away and pull up those panties tight.
I do have a panty girdle that I bought inspired by reading Daphne's Lipstick Discipline story. It's kind of sexy in a different way than a pair of silky panties. The binding feel of all those rubber threads interwoven in the panties, squeezing you tight will render any thoughts of rubbing or touching yourself useless. It's also good for tucking. It will keep you held in for a while, but even a tightly pulled up panty girdle by itself will start to slip down after a while.
I just like silky panties - briefs to be specific - and I've found out through practice that I can tuck and pull them up tight, creating enough tension to hold me in for several hours sometimes.
It all started with some internet exploration. I had never heard of tucking before, but curious, I decided to try it. It was a bit painful at first, but after a few attempts, I kind of figured it out. It wasn't the sexiest of things for me at the time, but I did notice the way it made me look down there, and it intrigued me.
I had always worn my panties like I would male underwear, and they rested lower on my waist, giving my cock room to rest at the front of my legs like it always has, and now that I reflect on it, looking at myself in the mirror, I probably looked like I was wearing silky men's underwear.
One day, though, inspired by a desire for chastity, so I could enjoy my dressing for more than a few impassioned minutes, I decided to tuck. Pulling up my panties, there was no longer that four or five inch space of resistance where my balls usually were. The panties seemed to want to keep sliding up.
At first, it felt kind of weird to me pulling them up that far because I wasn't used to it, but eventually I pulled them up tightly against my crotch. It looked weird to me seeing the panties so high on my waist (they were briefs after all) but the more I looked at them, I noticed two things: my crotch looked so feminine, and the high waist was where the panties were supposed to hit.
The realization kind of hit me then. This is the way they are supposed to look. Now, I will have it no other way. If I wear panties, and see a bulge in them, they just look like men's underwear to me, especially bikinis. So if you want to be a true sissy, forsake the silky feeling of the panties against your dick, and tuck yourself away and pull up those panties tight.
Drawing Attention: The Male Stare
On one of my Stepping Out adventures, I did have a little side adventure at a supermarket. It wasn't really that adventurous, but that's part of what I liked about it too.
It was late, and I didn't want to go home. I realized the limited options that I really had for going out dressed up, so I popped into the supermarket at night. It was pretty dead, there were a few people meandering about, squeezing melons, listening to the soft tunes of the elevator music playing overhead.
I was far enough away from most people that I wasn't really that nervous, but I still walked a tiny bit cautiously and conservatively past the produce aisle. As I reached the other part of the store, it was a lot emptier. Some aisles I had all to my own. Enjoying the moment to be a little bit more free, I experimented with my feminine movement, being extra girly in my walk, my mind, and how I interacted with things.
It was a freeing feeling, and it made me feel more feminine. As I emerged from the end of one aisles, I walked past the meat section where an old man was standing. I was walking straight toward him, and he was leering at me. I don't know if he just appreciated my feminine dress in an era when most women wear jeans to the store, or if he thought I was sexy, but he just stared and checked me out.
It was a weird feeling being checked out by a guy. I politely walked by, not too engaging, but not afraid either.
For me this was a confusing moment. Unlike most sissies, I'm not attracted to men. But it makes me think. The whole point of dressing up and being pretty for a girl is to attract a mate. I, too, want to dress up and be pretty, but I don't necessarily want to draw male attention.
It does make me wonder if something like this will happen again. I guess it's flattering, but frightening in a way too.
It was late, and I didn't want to go home. I realized the limited options that I really had for going out dressed up, so I popped into the supermarket at night. It was pretty dead, there were a few people meandering about, squeezing melons, listening to the soft tunes of the elevator music playing overhead.
I was far enough away from most people that I wasn't really that nervous, but I still walked a tiny bit cautiously and conservatively past the produce aisle. As I reached the other part of the store, it was a lot emptier. Some aisles I had all to my own. Enjoying the moment to be a little bit more free, I experimented with my feminine movement, being extra girly in my walk, my mind, and how I interacted with things.
It was a freeing feeling, and it made me feel more feminine. As I emerged from the end of one aisles, I walked past the meat section where an old man was standing. I was walking straight toward him, and he was leering at me. I don't know if he just appreciated my feminine dress in an era when most women wear jeans to the store, or if he thought I was sexy, but he just stared and checked me out.
It was a weird feeling being checked out by a guy. I politely walked by, not too engaging, but not afraid either.
For me this was a confusing moment. Unlike most sissies, I'm not attracted to men. But it makes me think. The whole point of dressing up and being pretty for a girl is to attract a mate. I, too, want to dress up and be pretty, but I don't necessarily want to draw male attention.
It does make me wonder if something like this will happen again. I guess it's flattering, but frightening in a way too.
The Desexualization of Women in Our Society
(I've decided to publish some of these old, unfinished posts today. This one is obviously from the Olympics last year.)
Don't get me wrong, I love women, and I want each woman to have the freedom to do whatever she wants. I love watching the Olympics, and seeing the power and beauty of women in sport - like a gymnast flying through the air and doing several flips and twists - and I like the fact that women can be anything they want professionally. We are a much better people once we let go of the sexist prejudices that held women back.
With that being said, I also think that there are forces today which are trying to keep pushing women further into what they believe is empowerment, and by doing that seem to want women to discard their femininity, sensitivity, etc.
A person on a forum recently argued with me that femininity is a construct, and that no such thing really exists innately. Perhaps this is true, and I can definitely understand why there are a lot of women who don't fit the mold of femininity. Lesbians sometimes want to be more masculine and aggressive, tomboys just don't like dressing up and doing their nails, smart girls want to show their talents, businesswomen want to be successful.
I get it. I mean, I'm in a dress and I have to hide it, so I definitely know what it feels like to not fit the mold. What I'm talking about, though, is an effort by the aforementioned empowered women to tear down femininity because it doesn't fit their mold.
For example, the businesswoman who becomes a boss might be harder on a girl who dresses pretty for work and is more flirtatious. She might make a rule to make her dress in a suit and be more like a man.
School uniforms are also becoming more unisex. Girls in some schools wear basically the same thing that boys wear. I guess it promotes equality, but kind of takes away the "Viva la difference" thing. I remember my youth, dreaming about the girls in blouses and skirts. I couldn't imagine doing the same thing about a girl in khakis and a thick polo shirt. Do we really want to live in a world where women and men are the same in every way?
Don't get me wrong, I love women, and I want each woman to have the freedom to do whatever she wants. I love watching the Olympics, and seeing the power and beauty of women in sport - like a gymnast flying through the air and doing several flips and twists - and I like the fact that women can be anything they want professionally. We are a much better people once we let go of the sexist prejudices that held women back.
With that being said, I also think that there are forces today which are trying to keep pushing women further into what they believe is empowerment, and by doing that seem to want women to discard their femininity, sensitivity, etc.
A person on a forum recently argued with me that femininity is a construct, and that no such thing really exists innately. Perhaps this is true, and I can definitely understand why there are a lot of women who don't fit the mold of femininity. Lesbians sometimes want to be more masculine and aggressive, tomboys just don't like dressing up and doing their nails, smart girls want to show their talents, businesswomen want to be successful.
I get it. I mean, I'm in a dress and I have to hide it, so I definitely know what it feels like to not fit the mold. What I'm talking about, though, is an effort by the aforementioned empowered women to tear down femininity because it doesn't fit their mold.
For example, the businesswoman who becomes a boss might be harder on a girl who dresses pretty for work and is more flirtatious. She might make a rule to make her dress in a suit and be more like a man.
School uniforms are also becoming more unisex. Girls in some schools wear basically the same thing that boys wear. I guess it promotes equality, but kind of takes away the "Viva la difference" thing. I remember my youth, dreaming about the girls in blouses and skirts. I couldn't imagine doing the same thing about a girl in khakis and a thick polo shirt. Do we really want to live in a world where women and men are the same in every way?
Why Do I Crossdress?
I think many of us at one time or another like to reflect on the reasons for our crossdressing.
I mean, think about it, what makes a guy put on panties and a dress and want to be pretty. Back in my younger days, I would have written it off as some random thing that came along, like a rainstorm, but which passed away in time, and really wasn't who I was.
But now that I'm strong enough to face the possibility that perhaps it's more than just an occasional notion, and perhaps it speaks to something much deeper inside of me, I think I'm ready to recognize it, no matter where it takes me.
Theory #1: When I was younger, I used to theorize that I was creating an ideal woman, but that I was just doing it myself. I was shy, and lacked confidence when I was younger. I fantasized about girls, but they seemed unattainable for some reason. Literally, in my mind, I wanted to touch boobs, but if I were kissing a girl, I knew that it was completely off-limits. I don't think it was, but that's how I inhibited myself.
Instead of being with a girl, I created a girl to be with, and the girl just happened to be me. I saw her pretty panties, she touched me in all the right places, and it felt good. On top of that, I didn't have to spend a lot of time on the phone talking to a girl about nothing.
Theory #2: I like humiliation. For reasons related to my upbringing, somehow I enjoy humiliation. I want to be pointed at by a girl who sees me in panties, and sees me a less than a man. She tells me that I'm not good enough for her, but that I can be her sissy. She forces me into panties, and calls me names.
For some reason, I've stopped fighting the feelings of inadequacy, and have just gone with it.
Theory #3: Deep down inside, I'm really a girl. Looking back on my life now, I've realized several instances of feminine behaviors. Maybe I convinced myself that a man can bake cupcakes, listen to certain music, and like pretty decorations, but the more I think about it, those were signals that somewhere inside, I am really a girl. Sometimes others would mention it, and I'd get offended, saying that they lacked enlightenment or imagination, but now that I really think about it, maybe they were right. Many of my behaviors were truly feminine.
Synthesis of Theories: Or perhaps all of these things are a little true. Maybe I'm a shy, skinny, feminine man, who likes to be humiliated, and deep down just wants to be a girl. Life if a rich tapestry, and you can't just say, "He's a crossdresser," and it explains everything.
The reasons for my crossdressing are many. I know I have some clues into why it's there, but the only really important thing is the fact that it is there. It's who I am, and there's really no changing it. I'm a sissy crossdresser, and that's just who I am.
I mean, think about it, what makes a guy put on panties and a dress and want to be pretty. Back in my younger days, I would have written it off as some random thing that came along, like a rainstorm, but which passed away in time, and really wasn't who I was.
But now that I'm strong enough to face the possibility that perhaps it's more than just an occasional notion, and perhaps it speaks to something much deeper inside of me, I think I'm ready to recognize it, no matter where it takes me.
Theory #1: When I was younger, I used to theorize that I was creating an ideal woman, but that I was just doing it myself. I was shy, and lacked confidence when I was younger. I fantasized about girls, but they seemed unattainable for some reason. Literally, in my mind, I wanted to touch boobs, but if I were kissing a girl, I knew that it was completely off-limits. I don't think it was, but that's how I inhibited myself.
Instead of being with a girl, I created a girl to be with, and the girl just happened to be me. I saw her pretty panties, she touched me in all the right places, and it felt good. On top of that, I didn't have to spend a lot of time on the phone talking to a girl about nothing.
Theory #2: I like humiliation. For reasons related to my upbringing, somehow I enjoy humiliation. I want to be pointed at by a girl who sees me in panties, and sees me a less than a man. She tells me that I'm not good enough for her, but that I can be her sissy. She forces me into panties, and calls me names.
For some reason, I've stopped fighting the feelings of inadequacy, and have just gone with it.
Theory #3: Deep down inside, I'm really a girl. Looking back on my life now, I've realized several instances of feminine behaviors. Maybe I convinced myself that a man can bake cupcakes, listen to certain music, and like pretty decorations, but the more I think about it, those were signals that somewhere inside, I am really a girl. Sometimes others would mention it, and I'd get offended, saying that they lacked enlightenment or imagination, but now that I really think about it, maybe they were right. Many of my behaviors were truly feminine.
Synthesis of Theories: Or perhaps all of these things are a little true. Maybe I'm a shy, skinny, feminine man, who likes to be humiliated, and deep down just wants to be a girl. Life if a rich tapestry, and you can't just say, "He's a crossdresser," and it explains everything.
The reasons for my crossdressing are many. I know I have some clues into why it's there, but the only really important thing is the fact that it is there. It's who I am, and there's really no changing it. I'm a sissy crossdresser, and that's just who I am.
The Excitement of It All
You know, for the longest time in my life, I felt like I was going through the motions. Things just seemed boring, repetative, and bland. Get up, go to work, come home, make dinner, and repeat.
Of course there are several little pleasurable things that I fill the time with in between: movies, sports, friends, internet. No life's not a complete waste. I try to make it the best that I can, but I do find that at times I've been less than satisfied.
In particular, I remember my college years, which had some great memories, but sometimes I felt like I was doing the same thing. I wanted something more, and found myself sitting safely at the same bar with the same people, talking about the same stuff.
I was restless and dissatisfied, and yearned for something more, yet I wanted to fit in too, so I stayed smiling and talking about nothing like I always did. I think I used to blame my friends for being unoriginal and boring but really it was my fault. I was too scared to go out and explore, and on top of that, I was suppressing my feminine, crossdressing, sissy, inadequate feelings.
If only I could have faced them at that age...Oh how I dream of being 18 again and knowing that I could have become a serious crossdresser...the dream of it all...
But I know I can't go back. But I still have my present and future, and I've steadily progressed, taking little baby steps at embracing my true sissy self, and each little thing brings such excitement., pleasure and peace into my life
Of course there are several little pleasurable things that I fill the time with in between: movies, sports, friends, internet. No life's not a complete waste. I try to make it the best that I can, but I do find that at times I've been less than satisfied.
In particular, I remember my college years, which had some great memories, but sometimes I felt like I was doing the same thing. I wanted something more, and found myself sitting safely at the same bar with the same people, talking about the same stuff.
I was restless and dissatisfied, and yearned for something more, yet I wanted to fit in too, so I stayed smiling and talking about nothing like I always did. I think I used to blame my friends for being unoriginal and boring but really it was my fault. I was too scared to go out and explore, and on top of that, I was suppressing my feminine, crossdressing, sissy, inadequate feelings.
If only I could have faced them at that age...Oh how I dream of being 18 again and knowing that I could have become a serious crossdresser...the dream of it all...
But I know I can't go back. But I still have my present and future, and I've steadily progressed, taking little baby steps at embracing my true sissy self, and each little thing brings such excitement., pleasure and peace into my life
You Can't Have It Both Ways, or Can You?
I'm always torn between which is more important, my feminine side or my masculine side. In the throes of passion, of course I'm ready to cut all ties with my male self and become a full-time woman for the rest of my life, but when my head clears (and you know why ; ) I suddenly sober up and think to myself, "What was I thinking? I was just comtemplating wearing a bra under my white shirt and going to the store?"
I've been back and forth between both sides so often that I think I fully understand my feelings for both of these perspectives on life, but I never really do settle on one. Sometimes I just do my male thing, and other times I feel like I want to princess it up, and go out in a dress with a petticoat.
With some things, however, you cannot go back. Pierced ears comes to mind, as does corset training. Shaved legs can be another, and sometimes makeup can still show up. People knowing your secret can be a "never going back" moment, because as soon as a girl knows that you're wearing a camisole under your shirt, you best believe it will soon be common knowledge.
So for me, this leave me stuck in the middle. I'm not entirely masculine. In fact, as I walked into work this morning, my balls nicely held in by my soft panties, and I realized that I began to walk a little more femininely. It was a bit deliberate but a bit natural too, and the fact that it felt right was a strange realization. I'm never going back. I know that now. I'm a sissy for life.
Still, I feel the need to act a part. Sitting with my legs crossed and my cock tucked, my legs naturally slid to a girls' crossed leg postion. It felt nice, but someone was looking, and I had the urge to shift my legs to a more masculine position, but then consciosly put them down again.
There are times when I have to be a man: at work, around friends, when negotiating some sort of business. I can't wiggle in my panties, cross my legs, and feel soft and caring. I have to act a part, but the femininity is seeping into my everyday words and actions.
I've been back and forth between both sides so often that I think I fully understand my feelings for both of these perspectives on life, but I never really do settle on one. Sometimes I just do my male thing, and other times I feel like I want to princess it up, and go out in a dress with a petticoat.
With some things, however, you cannot go back. Pierced ears comes to mind, as does corset training. Shaved legs can be another, and sometimes makeup can still show up. People knowing your secret can be a "never going back" moment, because as soon as a girl knows that you're wearing a camisole under your shirt, you best believe it will soon be common knowledge.
So for me, this leave me stuck in the middle. I'm not entirely masculine. In fact, as I walked into work this morning, my balls nicely held in by my soft panties, and I realized that I began to walk a little more femininely. It was a bit deliberate but a bit natural too, and the fact that it felt right was a strange realization. I'm never going back. I know that now. I'm a sissy for life.
Still, I feel the need to act a part. Sitting with my legs crossed and my cock tucked, my legs naturally slid to a girls' crossed leg postion. It felt nice, but someone was looking, and I had the urge to shift my legs to a more masculine position, but then consciosly put them down again.
There are times when I have to be a man: at work, around friends, when negotiating some sort of business. I can't wiggle in my panties, cross my legs, and feel soft and caring. I have to act a part, but the femininity is seeping into my everyday words and actions.
The Diaper Incident
I really enjoy writing some petticoating and feminization fiction, but this story is true. After a lot of introspection, I believe this is the root of my panty fetish.
It takes place in the 70’s, when disco was king, and fashion
was outrageous, but my family wasn’t having too much of that. They were pretty conservative for the most
part, living in the Midwest, they had more of a sense of 1950 values. Strict and religious, I had a definite sense from
them of what was right and wrong.
I was the last of five kids, and needless to say, with one
parent supporting the family but not always working, it was economically hard
on the family. What did I know about
money and stress? I was five years
old. I was a boisterous and
strong-willed child who did not think before he spoke or acted, and that got me
into a lot of trouble. I guess part of
it was because I wanted attention, and part of it was because I was a stupid
kid. Whatever the reasons, because of
the stress, financial problems, and lack of time, my parents’ response was
usually something where they would fly off the handle.
Usually it was my father, and I cringe at the memories of
the beatings. I still can hear the anger
in his voice, beating me unmercifully for something as simple as not eating
dinner (I had a very particular palette).
All I could do was beg for him to stop, and eventually curl into a ball,
and find a place inside myself until the beatings stopped. Most often, he used the back of his open
hands, but it was still hard, and some hits knocked the sense out of me for
several seconds. It went far beyond
discipline and teaching a lesson, and it seemed to be a vent for his anger.
In some ways it forced my personality inward, and I often
played alone and was very shy and imaginative.
For some reason – I have no idea why – I started wetting the bed around
age five. At first my mom didn’t notice
– I’d pull the blankets up and let it dry – but eventually she saw the many
stains in my mattress and exasperatedly asked me why I was doing it.
I had no answer, and she threatened to put me in diapers if
I continued to do this. I begged and
pleaded not to be put in diapers, and she told me, “You know what to do then.”
I think I was good for a couple of days. She’d wake me, pull back the covers, feel the
bed and let me get on with my day. One
day, however, I woke with a wet feeling between my legs. I think I secretly changed my wet underwear,
but when she came and felt the bed, it was unmistakably wet. Her frustration welled up inside of her.
“You know what I said will happen…”
I begged, god how I begged, but she had no mercy. I think it was a Saturday, because I didn’t
have to go to school. She made me strip
from my underwear and lie on the bed.
Anxiously I heard her opening closet doors in the other room. She returned with a bath towel, talcum
powder, and some old diaper pins. She
laid out my implements of shame on the bed next to me, sternly saying something
like, “If you’re going to act like a baby, I’m going to treat you like a
baby.”
I distinctly remember one moment though, and that’s the
point of this story. I distinctly
remember her lifting my legs, sliding the diaper beneath me, putting talcum on my
privates, and fastening the diaper with pins.
The feeling was a shudder of shame and control at the hands of a female,
and a strange, new feeling went through my body. I didn’t have a word for it then, but I think
I know now.
I was made to wear the diaper that entire day and all that
night as I slept. I was told that if I
could go a week without wetting the bed, there would no longer be any need for
the diaper. I tried, I really tried, but
for some reason, I kept having accidents at night. My frustrated mother added plastic pants to
my wardrobe and rubber sheets to my bed, adding to my shame. I remember her pulling those crinkly plastic
pants out of the package and displaying them before me. The package had a picture of a baby on it and
I cried. I was also acutely aware of the
fact that there was a box of diapers in the closet for me.
Even though my brothers and sisters probably already knew, I
was obviously pretty apprehensive about my family knowing about my accidents,
diapers, and plastic pants, but I guess my mother thought the humiliation would
help me improve my behavior. She openly
discussed my bedwetting with my father in the kitchen, and I painfully waited
on his reaction, hoping his anger wouldn’t explode like a volcano. She also changed my diaper each day with the
door open, and wouldn’t let me close it.
My brothers and sisters could see everything as they walked by. I usually had to wear the diaper and plastic
pants when I was at home.
Since there was little improvement after a few weeks, she
threatened me with the humiliation of having to wear the diaper and plastic
pants to school. I was in the first
grade. At this I really pleaded, and
again was told, “You know what to do then…”
I really didn’t want to wear a diaper in front of my
friends, so I really tried and was doing better, but one fateful night, it
happened again. My mother woke me for
school, felt my diaper, and sure enough it was wet. She flung the covers off of me, pulled down
my diaper, gave me a spanking, and put a fresh diaper and plastic pants on me.
“I told you what would happen if you wet the bed again! You have to wear the diaper to school. And don’t try taking it off at school because
I’m going to check on you, and if you’re not wearing your diaper, you’ll have to
deal with your father.”
I begged, oh how I begged and cried. I didn’t want to wear a diaper in front of my
friends, but it seemed I had little choice.
I walked to school with a puffy diaper in my pants, and the crinkling
sound of the plastic pants.
Of course, some kids noticed, and thankfully I can’t
remember too much of the humiliation, but I do remember denying the diapers
under my clothes vehemently.
You would think that this solved the problem, but it
didn’t. My mother was at her wits end,
and one day threatened to put a sign in the front yard saying that I wet the
bed and wore diapers. She threatened to
invite all of my friends and kids from the neighborhood over and would parade
me in my diaper in front of the sign.
Every word scared me to death because I believed she would do it. She finally got on the telephone that day and
called my best friend up, saying she was going to tell him I wet the bed and
wore diapers. I cried and pleaded with
everything I could summon, and she hung up and left that as a warning.
I think that is what finally did it, traumatizing as it was,
and my bedwetting days were over. I no
longer wore diapers to bed, and the plastic sheets eventually came off the bed.
That was the beginning of something, and when I discovered
my sister’s panty drawer in the fifth grade, it was a continuation of this seed
that was planted when I was five.
Whatever happened back then either embedded something in my
mind, or made me aware of a feminine side of my personality. I think I’ve always denied it, and thought of
myself as a regular guy, but here I am thoroughly enjoying petticoating
stories, and wishing my wife would force me into panties.
I’m not trying to assign blame or anything – life is what it
is - but the moment that diaper was forced up my legs changed me forever. It’s strange how childhood humiliation later
turns to erotic fantasy.
Marriage and the Sissy: Problems with Sex
I'm not going to say everything is perfect, but it's not bad right now. Of course I'm always pushing things, but for the most part, we've reached an equilibrium. I mean, I'm not insistent about being feminine all the time, and to be honest, I like reverting into man mode at times.
It's actually kind of weird. I'll be on the couch, wearing panties, a bra, and a nightie, watching sports and acting like a man in every way, besides the fact that I'm wearing women's clothing.
But of course there are problems. My wife is seriously afraid of someone finding out. I mean, my drawers are filled with panties, skirts and blouses. My closets are filled with dresses. All it would take is someone at a party getting nosey, but I doubt that would happen.
The biggest problem now is sex. Although I can masturbate several times a week in panties, getting together with my wife is becoming few and far between. I just...don't find that attraction anymore. It's moved from every couple of weeks, to once a month, to once every few months. She complains a lot, but I tell her that we could have a lot of sex if we incorporated dressing into our sex lives. My wife if firmly against this, so we have infrequent sex.
Sometimes I try to hold out and not masturbate (which is another problem) but it's hard to at times. I don't know if this is a normal thing that couples go through, or if this is a crossdressing thing.
It's actually kind of weird. I'll be on the couch, wearing panties, a bra, and a nightie, watching sports and acting like a man in every way, besides the fact that I'm wearing women's clothing.
But of course there are problems. My wife is seriously afraid of someone finding out. I mean, my drawers are filled with panties, skirts and blouses. My closets are filled with dresses. All it would take is someone at a party getting nosey, but I doubt that would happen.
The biggest problem now is sex. Although I can masturbate several times a week in panties, getting together with my wife is becoming few and far between. I just...don't find that attraction anymore. It's moved from every couple of weeks, to once a month, to once every few months. She complains a lot, but I tell her that we could have a lot of sex if we incorporated dressing into our sex lives. My wife if firmly against this, so we have infrequent sex.
Sometimes I try to hold out and not masturbate (which is another problem) but it's hard to at times. I don't know if this is a normal thing that couples go through, or if this is a crossdressing thing.
Caught...again
(Here's the original post I began writing after my wife found my dildo. It was hard explaining that I was just experimenting.)
If you're like me, you probably start your secret habits by carefully hiding everything away. My naughty secrets are in a box, in a box, atop some hard to reach shelf, so that there's little likelyhood of my wife encountering them.
But after a while, I begin to realize that I'm using these things on a daily basis, and I begin to get less careful in my hiding. They'll go from a difficult place to a medium place, and then one day, I'll have to deal with my wife saying, "What the hell is THIS?"
This time, it was my dildo. Actually I had bought it for her a few years ago, hoping that she would use it on me. She declined, and it sat in the closet for years. Recently, I've been experimenting with anal, and got lazy, leaving it out of the box where it was hidden in the back of the closet.
Putting away some of my clothes, my wife saw it and almost lost it. I think she's almost gotten used to the fact that I dress, she lets me wear panties, and I have a drawer full of women's clothing.
When she saw this, she went crazy. She already thinks I'm gay, and this didn't help matters. I awkwardly explained that I was experimenting, and she told me to get rid of it.
I told her that I would, but I don't know if I want to. I still consider myself heterosexual, but I have to admit that I've been falling deeper and deeper into the hold of fantasizing about cock, and being a woman for a man. I kind of want to tell her that I would like to be a woman in a lot of ways, but I know that she wouldn't understand.
Right now, it's blown over once again, and everything's back to normal, but I know that storm will come up again when she starts to get emotional once again.
This is a tricky one folks. I think she was willing to put up with a lot of the dressing, but a rubber cock has signaled something else to her....
If you're like me, you probably start your secret habits by carefully hiding everything away. My naughty secrets are in a box, in a box, atop some hard to reach shelf, so that there's little likelyhood of my wife encountering them.
But after a while, I begin to realize that I'm using these things on a daily basis, and I begin to get less careful in my hiding. They'll go from a difficult place to a medium place, and then one day, I'll have to deal with my wife saying, "What the hell is THIS?"
This time, it was my dildo. Actually I had bought it for her a few years ago, hoping that she would use it on me. She declined, and it sat in the closet for years. Recently, I've been experimenting with anal, and got lazy, leaving it out of the box where it was hidden in the back of the closet.
Putting away some of my clothes, my wife saw it and almost lost it. I think she's almost gotten used to the fact that I dress, she lets me wear panties, and I have a drawer full of women's clothing.
When she saw this, she went crazy. She already thinks I'm gay, and this didn't help matters. I awkwardly explained that I was experimenting, and she told me to get rid of it.
I told her that I would, but I don't know if I want to. I still consider myself heterosexual, but I have to admit that I've been falling deeper and deeper into the hold of fantasizing about cock, and being a woman for a man. I kind of want to tell her that I would like to be a woman in a lot of ways, but I know that she wouldn't understand.
Right now, it's blown over once again, and everything's back to normal, but I know that storm will come up again when she starts to get emotional once again.
This is a tricky one folks. I think she was willing to put up with a lot of the dressing, but a rubber cock has signaled something else to her....
Oops: You Can Never Hide Your Sissy Behaviors for too Long
Originally I wanted to get caught. I was tired of getting the ladder out to get my outfits out and having to put them away. In the delusion of my lust, I began leaving panties and things in easy to find areas, and one day my wife actually found the panties. It wasn't as sexy as I imagined, but it did get the truth out there.
As her reluctant acceptance of some things began to take place, my imagination was exploring other new things like: wigs, makeup, jewelry, etc.
Each time my wife found something new she would get extremely angry with threats of leaving, and threats for me to get rid of the particular items.
I think she was fine with the feminine things, but always kept asking if I was gay, and I would firmly deny it, and I was telling the truth, but in my exploration of sissy things, I began to experiment with anal stimulation. I had bought a strapon for my wife a few years ago that she refused to use, and began to play with that.
It became a somewhat frequent activity, and each time I would carefully put it back in its box and shove it to the back of the closet again. After a while, I began to get lazy, and just placed it by itself on the shelf in the back.
One day, while she was looking in my closet, she found it, and immediately knew. She questioned me, and I was reluctant and embarrassed to admit that I had, in fact, been using it. I was too embarrassed to say much, and kept avoiding answering, while I was trying to think of what to say. Eventually, I admitted to what I was doing. I didn't know what the consequences would be.
She was shocked and really questioned my sexuality at that point. I thought that would be the end of the marriage for real.
She told me to get rid of it, and embarrassed, I told her that I would, (but never did.) Time has gone by, and I think she's adjusted once again. We've had some nice nights together as a couple, and I think the thought is out of her mind for right now.
I can't tell you how hard it was to admit to my wife that, yes, I was toying my asshole because I wanted to feel like a woman.
It would be sexier if she would fuck me with it, and have me beg to be fucked like a woman, but the reality is that her reaction was one of anger, pain and confusion.
I guess it's all how you look at something. I see it one way, she sees it another. I might have dodged a bullet on that one though. I can't tell you how disillusioned she was knowing that I stuck things up my ass.
As her reluctant acceptance of some things began to take place, my imagination was exploring other new things like: wigs, makeup, jewelry, etc.
Each time my wife found something new she would get extremely angry with threats of leaving, and threats for me to get rid of the particular items.
I think she was fine with the feminine things, but always kept asking if I was gay, and I would firmly deny it, and I was telling the truth, but in my exploration of sissy things, I began to experiment with anal stimulation. I had bought a strapon for my wife a few years ago that she refused to use, and began to play with that.
It became a somewhat frequent activity, and each time I would carefully put it back in its box and shove it to the back of the closet again. After a while, I began to get lazy, and just placed it by itself on the shelf in the back.
One day, while she was looking in my closet, she found it, and immediately knew. She questioned me, and I was reluctant and embarrassed to admit that I had, in fact, been using it. I was too embarrassed to say much, and kept avoiding answering, while I was trying to think of what to say. Eventually, I admitted to what I was doing. I didn't know what the consequences would be.
She was shocked and really questioned my sexuality at that point. I thought that would be the end of the marriage for real.
She told me to get rid of it, and embarrassed, I told her that I would, (but never did.) Time has gone by, and I think she's adjusted once again. We've had some nice nights together as a couple, and I think the thought is out of her mind for right now.
I can't tell you how hard it was to admit to my wife that, yes, I was toying my asshole because I wanted to feel like a woman.
It would be sexier if she would fuck me with it, and have me beg to be fucked like a woman, but the reality is that her reaction was one of anger, pain and confusion.
I guess it's all how you look at something. I see it one way, she sees it another. I might have dodged a bullet on that one though. I can't tell you how disillusioned she was knowing that I stuck things up my ass.
Marriage and the Sissy: Accepting Panties
There have been a lot of moments in between that I haven't had the time to put to text. Like I said in an earlier post, she knew that I was dressing, and just pretended that it wasn't there. She said that she was not sexually attracted to me as much. I can see her point. It's like someone said on a crossdressing forum one day, "If your wife started dressing like a dude and wearing a fake mustache, would you be attracted to her still?"
The answer for me: No.
Still, I feel such a strong urge to dress that I didn't want to squelch it like I did in the past. But for her sake, I dressed as a man most of the time, which wasn't that big of a thing, and I didn't mind doing.
Still, part of me wanted to push the envelope, and I while I was changing would walk past her in just panties while going to the bathroom. She'd loudly object, and I'd laugh. I kept doing similar things, just to see how far I could push it without having her explode in anger. I know her tipping point.
Little by little, she began to protest less. It was like a rubber band that was stretched out and didn't contract as much anymore. Every now and then, to my surprise, she'd explode about something, but for the most part, she began to accept it.
For a while, she accepted seeing me in panties. I was thrilled. I wore them, and she just didn't say anything. I tried to add a camisole, but she was not having it. When winter came, I started wearing a bra and slip under my robe. After a while, she began to accept this too.
From there, I started wearing a simple cotton nightie around the house. This is the point we're at right now. I can wear a bra, panties and a simple nightie around the house. For the most part, I'm pretty happy with this, since this is what I'd wear on a regular lazy day anyway.
I can't wear anything to bed. I can't wear dresses or anything besides my nightie around the house. For me, this is satisfactory, and hopefully I can do more in the future. I'd like to wear an occasional skirt sometimes...
The answer for me: No.
Still, I feel such a strong urge to dress that I didn't want to squelch it like I did in the past. But for her sake, I dressed as a man most of the time, which wasn't that big of a thing, and I didn't mind doing.
Still, part of me wanted to push the envelope, and I while I was changing would walk past her in just panties while going to the bathroom. She'd loudly object, and I'd laugh. I kept doing similar things, just to see how far I could push it without having her explode in anger. I know her tipping point.
Little by little, she began to protest less. It was like a rubber band that was stretched out and didn't contract as much anymore. Every now and then, to my surprise, she'd explode about something, but for the most part, she began to accept it.
For a while, she accepted seeing me in panties. I was thrilled. I wore them, and she just didn't say anything. I tried to add a camisole, but she was not having it. When winter came, I started wearing a bra and slip under my robe. After a while, she began to accept this too.
From there, I started wearing a simple cotton nightie around the house. This is the point we're at right now. I can wear a bra, panties and a simple nightie around the house. For the most part, I'm pretty happy with this, since this is what I'd wear on a regular lazy day anyway.
I can't wear anything to bed. I can't wear dresses or anything besides my nightie around the house. For me, this is satisfactory, and hopefully I can do more in the future. I'd like to wear an occasional skirt sometimes...
Marriage and the Sissy: After She Knew
At the moment I told her, I was glad that it wasn't a secret anymore, but it wasn't as sexy as I imagined. Instead of some fantasy of her accepting it, or treating me like a sissy, there was just this hollow, shocked emotion from my wife for a while.
After that came the questions. "Are you gay?" "How long has this been going on?" "Do you want to be a woman?"
I answered them all as best I could. I reassured her that it was just a fetish. She really didn't believe me.
After a few days, she began to lay down some ultimatums. "Get rid of all of this," that type of stuff.
From my perusal of the internet, I knew that that wasn't a solution at all. I held firm in my resolve that I wanted my pretty dresses and panties.
For a while things were rocky, and I didn't know what would happen with my marriage. It was strange. Our marriage which was so solid up until this point, was now at the point of collapse. I reassured my wife that I loved her, but told her that this was a part of me now.
We fought, and then got busy with our work lives. After a while, I realized that she was begrudgingly accepting it, as long as I kept it hidden, which I was glad to do. In secret, I dressed, and never brought the subject up.
Little by little, my things started to come out of their hiding places, and find their way to the back of my drawers hidden behind my male underwear.
One day, on impulse, I moved all of my things from their hiding place to my drawers. This has always been a fantasy of mine, and the thrill I got when my drawers were filled with all of my feminine things was intense. My wife objected, but I was resolute. I was surprised that my drawers were filled. I know my wife was curious, and went through looking at all of my stuff.
Little by little, I've been pushing the boundaries, and she's been accepting my femininity more.
After that came the questions. "Are you gay?" "How long has this been going on?" "Do you want to be a woman?"
I answered them all as best I could. I reassured her that it was just a fetish. She really didn't believe me.
After a few days, she began to lay down some ultimatums. "Get rid of all of this," that type of stuff.
From my perusal of the internet, I knew that that wasn't a solution at all. I held firm in my resolve that I wanted my pretty dresses and panties.
For a while things were rocky, and I didn't know what would happen with my marriage. It was strange. Our marriage which was so solid up until this point, was now at the point of collapse. I reassured my wife that I loved her, but told her that this was a part of me now.
We fought, and then got busy with our work lives. After a while, I realized that she was begrudgingly accepting it, as long as I kept it hidden, which I was glad to do. In secret, I dressed, and never brought the subject up.
Little by little, my things started to come out of their hiding places, and find their way to the back of my drawers hidden behind my male underwear.
One day, on impulse, I moved all of my things from their hiding place to my drawers. This has always been a fantasy of mine, and the thrill I got when my drawers were filled with all of my feminine things was intense. My wife objected, but I was resolute. I was surprised that my drawers were filled. I know my wife was curious, and went through looking at all of my stuff.
Little by little, I've been pushing the boundaries, and she's been accepting my femininity more.
Marriage and the Sissy: From Secret Panties to Letting My Wife Know
I thought I was done when I had thrown those few items away, but to my surprise I had unknowingly awoken a strong desire in my subconscious that would come roaring back with a vengeance.
For the next few weeks, I was looking for some sort of sexual thrill as usual. I went through all the usual things, and for some reason decided to look at panties online. I browsed a website, and the thrill I got when I clicked on "Add to Bag" was powerful to say the least.
Still, I could never bring myself to buy anything; I just liked window shopping.
One night, however, on impulse, I clicked on "Buy" and it sent a thrill down my spine. I was excited beyond belief, but then had a slight regret that a package of panties and bras would soon be arriving at my residence.
I watched the mail like a hawk, and when the package arrived was thrilled that I had a present, and that I had gotten away with it. I played with my bras and panties, and that same night was on another website to find more.
A few pairs of underwear, turned into several pair, and then I became curious in stockings and slips. Standing there before the mirror one day in my undergarments, I knew that it looked incomplete without shoes and a dress. After some debate, I finally ordered these too.
After that, shopping became my obsession, and I loved the thrill of ordering panties, dresses, bras and getting them in the mail. It was something to do in life, and it really kept my interest.
After a while, I had so many clothes that I couldn't easily hide them. I bought a 60 gallon plastic tub from the hardware store, and kept my clothes hidden in there for a few years, but it was becoming too full to contain my wardrobe.
It was around this time that I kind of wanted to tell my wife, but was scared to tell her, knowing her reaction to my other sexual fetishes. I would dress up at night, and would sometimes even sneak into bed wearing panties, a bra and a nightie, and my wife was completely unaware.
I began to get lazy about taking stuff out and taking the trouble to put it back in its secret hiding space. It was also around this time that I began to have a fantasy about telling my wife, or having her find out. It was at this time that I began to get a purposefully risky with putting my stuff away, and I began keeping my dirty panties in a cabinet in the bathroom that I used.
I kind of half-hoped that she would find them, and then it would finally be out in the open, but one day as I got ready to leave for work, I heard my wife say, "What...are these?"
My heart froze as my fantasy became reality, but it wasn't sexy, like in my fantasy. There was a terror in her voice. I was resolute in my belief that I wanted her to know, but I was a bit scared. As she held them, I knew that her first thought was that I was having an affair, and I just told her the truth. She didn't seem to believe me, so to reinforce it, I unzipped my pants and showed her the panties I was wearing. She was shocked, and didn't know what to say.
For the next few weeks, I was looking for some sort of sexual thrill as usual. I went through all the usual things, and for some reason decided to look at panties online. I browsed a website, and the thrill I got when I clicked on "Add to Bag" was powerful to say the least.
Still, I could never bring myself to buy anything; I just liked window shopping.
One night, however, on impulse, I clicked on "Buy" and it sent a thrill down my spine. I was excited beyond belief, but then had a slight regret that a package of panties and bras would soon be arriving at my residence.
I watched the mail like a hawk, and when the package arrived was thrilled that I had a present, and that I had gotten away with it. I played with my bras and panties, and that same night was on another website to find more.
A few pairs of underwear, turned into several pair, and then I became curious in stockings and slips. Standing there before the mirror one day in my undergarments, I knew that it looked incomplete without shoes and a dress. After some debate, I finally ordered these too.
After that, shopping became my obsession, and I loved the thrill of ordering panties, dresses, bras and getting them in the mail. It was something to do in life, and it really kept my interest.
After a while, I had so many clothes that I couldn't easily hide them. I bought a 60 gallon plastic tub from the hardware store, and kept my clothes hidden in there for a few years, but it was becoming too full to contain my wardrobe.
It was around this time that I kind of wanted to tell my wife, but was scared to tell her, knowing her reaction to my other sexual fetishes. I would dress up at night, and would sometimes even sneak into bed wearing panties, a bra and a nightie, and my wife was completely unaware.
I began to get lazy about taking stuff out and taking the trouble to put it back in its secret hiding space. It was also around this time that I began to have a fantasy about telling my wife, or having her find out. It was at this time that I began to get a purposefully risky with putting my stuff away, and I began keeping my dirty panties in a cabinet in the bathroom that I used.
I kind of half-hoped that she would find them, and then it would finally be out in the open, but one day as I got ready to leave for work, I heard my wife say, "What...are these?"
My heart froze as my fantasy became reality, but it wasn't sexy, like in my fantasy. There was a terror in her voice. I was resolute in my belief that I wanted her to know, but I was a bit scared. As she held them, I knew that her first thought was that I was having an affair, and I just told her the truth. She didn't seem to believe me, so to reinforce it, I unzipped my pants and showed her the panties I was wearing. She was shocked, and didn't know what to say.
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