Judy's Story free porn video

My "name" is Judy Edwards. I'm a 72-year-old, used-to-be cross dresser. I consider myself to be a straight male; but when I cross dress, I think of myself mostly as a lesbian, although I also have had some pleasant times with other men. I prefer women. This is my story, from the very first time I ever put on any women's clothing to now, the time I have decided to purge for the last time - finality. This is my true story. The first time was an event for which I have no explanation whatsoever as to "why" I did what I did. I was about four years old. My mother had gone shopping or something on a Saturday afternoon, and I was at home with my dad and my older brother (my only sibling). I went into my parents' bedroom and opened my mother's dresser drawers. I took out a few articles of her lingerie - panties, a slip, a nightgown, a silky bed jacket, and perhaps another piece or so. I guess my dad realized after a short time that he wondered where I was and what I was doing, so he came looking. When he discovered me there wearing these items, he looked very surprised and asked what I was doing. I have no idea what my answer was, but he made no further reaction, no hollering or threatening discipline or anything that I remember. He just helped me remove everything and put them back where they belonged. That was the end of that. They had no talks with me about it later after Mother came home. As time went by, I remember sometimes going into my mother's closet and simply feeling the material of some of her dresses, the softer, silkier ones, of course. They all were hung on a closet bar that was too high for me to reach, so I couldn't actually take one of them down and do anything further with it. But at some point in time I realized that I could go into her closet and stand up into her dresses from below and experience an amazingly enjoyable feeling, just sort of wrapping the dress fabric around myself and feeling the pleasant touch of the fabric. I also remember in the early grades at school, when we would get vaccinations at school, there were teachers and some volunteer moms who would come to the school to help out with that. No little child, including me, like getting shots. So the moms would snuggle us up to themselves when he got a shot and give us something warm and comfortable to hold onto. I loved this when the mom holding me was wearing a dress with a softer fabric than plain cotton. My mom commonly hung her nightgown on a small hook behind the door to our bathroom in the daytime. Some of the time when I was in the bathroom, I would shut the door securely and fondle the nightie, rubbing the silky nylon against my face and arms. At this age (less than 12) it never occurred to me that it might be stimulating to rub my penis with this smooth fabric; it just felt good to touch it. One of our neighbors across the street was an older woman who was a widow and worked at one of the nearby department stores. I always admired how attractively she dressed, and she also used to hire me to mow her lawn. One time while I was standing on her back porch after doing the lawn, and she was standing in her doorway to pay me, I noticed a key to her back door hanging on a small hook above the door. My curiosity was piqued. One morning a short time later I went over to her house, took the key down, entered her house and went to her bedroom. In her dresser I found the most beautiful collection of slips and other silky lingerie. I HAD TO try them on! I must have spent a half hour in there putting on several of those slips, taking them off, and putting on others - just enjoying the feel and look of those garments and of me in them. By the time I was around 14 years old, my mom took a part-time job. At this age I was considered old enough to stay at home by myself after school. My brother was off to college, so after school I was at home alone. This gave me more chances to continue my contact with Mom's clothing. This was the time when I actually began to put on some of her clothes and even occasionally put on a little makeup (lipstick and face powder). I remember there were two of her nightgowns that I particularly loved to wear. I also sometimes put on panties, a bra (She even had one with small falsies in it.), a slip, stockings, and a dress or a skirt and blouse. To the best of my knowledge, she never detected that I was doing this until... One time, when I was old enough to be doing some clown-diving stunts at our neighborhood swimming pool (sort of like rodeo clowns, except off a diving board into the water), I had donned one of her full skirts at home one day but had forgotten to put it back in her closet. That afternoon, when she got home from work, she asked if I was the one that had taken her skirt out of her closet and left it on the chair in the den. Of course, I said, "No." She said that she thought that maybe it was something I may have wanted to use in one of my clown-diving tricks. I confirmed that I knew nothing about it. Nothing more was said to me about it by her or Dad. I guess it would be absurd for her to believe what I had answered initially. One day, while Mother was at work, I explored and found that she had a beautiful, dark blue, taffeta evening gown in another closet - nothing real fancy, but pretty and taffeta anyway. At the same time I also discovered a beautiful cocktail dress, also made of taffeta, but in a sort of iridescent wine color. I took both of these dresses down and put them on. Of course, by this age, my penis had learned to get hard, although I hadn't figured out what to do with it by then. Needless to say, When I got one of these dresses on, "little boy" got stiff and felt very good. I commenced rubbing my hand over the dress and my penis, and it felt even better. I kept rubbing; and sure enough, after just a few more minutes I exploded. I really didn't know what was happening, but I sure enjoyed it. Of course, I had to work to get the dress cleaned up, at which I was successful, thank goodness. I remember one evening, while my parents were out at a party or something. I put on those two favorite nightgowns and walked out the front door into the dark neighborhood. I had no plan, but I just started walking down the street; in fact, I wound up walking all the way around the block. That worked out so well that I decided to go around the next block. When I was about ? of the way around it, two boys in a car parked in front of one of the houses, flashed on the headlights and started hollering at me. I'm telling you, I didn't know I could run that fast. I ran about a half block and dodged into a row of bushes. They must have seen where I went and turned into that driveway. I managed to jump out behind their car and took off running again. This time, somehow, I managed to escape them and made it safely back to my house. Another time, not too long after this, my parents were out again for the evening, I donned the nightgowns again, and also had found there was one pair of my mother's high heel shoes that would fit me. So I put them on and walked outside again into the dark. Only this time I didn't head off very far. It was so much fun strolling around within a couple of doors of our house with the nighties on and walking in heels! One of our neighbors on one side of us had a daughter my age, a very cute girl. Once when they were gone way out to visit some friends in the country, I managed to get into their house through an open window. I went up to Carolyn's room and began to explore. The favorite things I found were a pretty skirt, a waist cincher, and a full petticoat, so managed to get them on. It was nearly dusk; and I knew that most of the time they went to visit these same people, they usually didn't get home until well after dark. To my horror, I glanced out Carolyn's bedroom window and saw them turning into their driveway. I managed to strip off the clothes and, having on only my underpants, made it downstairs and back out the window through which I had entered the house. Well, they had seen me by the closet light in her room as they turned into the driveway. They managed to slip around to the back yard and stopped me before I got away. They asked what I was doing in their house,, to which I probably replied something stupid like, "I don't know," or something else equally dumb. I mean I was standing there in their back yard, for gosh sakes. I'm sure they realized, when they got inside, that I had done something involving Carolyn's skirt, cincher, and petticoat, because they all were left there on her bedroom floor in my haste. I have no idea whether or not they spoke to my folks about the incident, but I never heard anything more about it. I can remember at this point in time that, because I had a job and was in high school, I generally did my own Christmas shopping for my family. How well I remember this gave me a chance to browse around in the women's clothing and cosmetics areas without seeming out of place. I never bought anything for myself back then, but I sure enjoyed having the chance to go around, checking out lingerie, dresses, shoes, cosmetics, and perfume. Sometimes it was amazing how long I could take just to do a tiny bit of shopping at the big, downtown Foley's department store. It always had such pretty women's clothing and other stuff; I just loved that store. Our next-door neighbor on the other side had a daughter, Ann, who was about 20 years old; at this time I was 18. The husband, wife, and daughter all worked full time. Ann also always dressed nicely. She and I never did date or anything like that; there never was a "click" between the two of us. However, they never did lock their house when they left. One time I walked into their house and went upstairs to Ann's room. She had a big closet with quite a bit of nice clothing. As I searched in there, I found a beautiful black, taffeta, full skirt with an elastic waist band and a beautiful, light green, multitier, full and flouncy petticoat - remember those? I loved those things - still do. I took them. At the time I was working as a lifeguard sort of on the outskirts of town at a place such that my ride back and forth to work involved several miles on small county roads without much traffic, especially after dark. One day I took both of these items, put them in a bag, and stuffed them under my car seat. On the way home from work that evening around 9 p.m. I found a wide place along the road shoulder and parked my car there off the pavement. I took off my shorts, picked up the skirt and petticoat, walked out about 50 yards into the waist-high grass out in the field, and put on the petticoat and skirt. I was just sort of standing and milling around there, enjoying myself, after several minutes, when another car pulled off the pavement and parked behind my car. It was a deputy sheriff car! They looked inside my car and saw my shorts on the front seat and began to look around, trying to figure out what this all meant. I had hunkered way down into the grass at first, but as they looked around, I dropped the skirt and petticoat, stood up and hailed them. They came out towards me, asking what I was doing out there. I told them I was on my way home from my job and had met with an emergency urge to have to take a poop. I guess they thought this was completely fishy (I didn't blame the, but I tried.), so they came out to where I was. Of course, they found the skirt and petticoat and immediately began to suspect I had been having sex with a girl out there. I told them that it was my skirt and petticoat. I finally convinced them that was not the case; but the whole thing was bizarre enough that they made me put them both back on, handcuffed me, and put me in the patrol car. One of them drove my car, and they took me to the downtown sheriff's office, where they put me in a holding cage with a couple of other men. I guess I finally convinced them my story was true, that I really did like to wear stuff like that. Now this was back in the 1950's, when common knowledge of cross dressers was not near as widespread as it is these days (2013). They called the police chief of the small municipality where I lived and questioned him as to whether or not he knew of any trouble I might have gotten into, and he confirmed that I had no reputation of any trouble. Finally, I was released and allowed to go home with my skirt and blouse and my regular clothes. Off to college I went. One of the clubs I belonged to decided to have a rummage sale to raise money for our club. Most of the stuff people donated for the cause was clothing, and most of that was women's clothing, including a fair amount of lingerie. I managed to latch onto several pieces of the better stuff and secret it away in my dorm room. For whatever reason, I never really worried about my roommates finding any of it, which they didn't. I had a limited number of chances to wear any of this stuff while there, but the few chances I had were sheer pleasure. I got married shortly after finishing my M.A. degree in college. As far as I know, my wife didn't then, and still doesn't even now, have any knowledge of my desire to cross dress. Way back then, as so many of you probably have experienced at some time or another, I thought I must be the only guy in the world with urges like this and must have been out of my mind. My wife is quite a bit smaller than I, so there was no chance that I ever would be able to fit into any of her clothes. But frankly, for a couple of years after getting married I never felt any urge to fool with women's clothing. Those urges eventually did return after maybe three or four years. I never had much chance to accommodate that, except for times when she may have been out on a shopping trip or out for the evening playing bridge, or even occasionally traveling with our two children to visit her family. Those times at least gave me the chance to "play" with some of her lingerie. It wasn't much, but it was all I had. In my new job, I did occasionally have a chance to travel out of town on business, so this gave me opportunities to contact women's clothing again. I would go shopping as though I were looking to buy something for my wife, which was fun, but not all that satisfying. A few times, over the course of several years, when I was out of town, I'd go buy a nice, nylon nightgown and sleep in that while out of town, sometimes for three, four, or more nights, depending on the duration of my trip. Sometimes, I even kept these nighties in a paper bag in my briefcase (locked) after I returned home; but eventually I'd simply throw them away - only to perhaps buy another one on a later trip. In 1975 I got a job transfer from New Orleans, where we were living, to Denver with a promotion. I had to report for my new job a month-and-a-half before we were actually going to move the family up there. My company's office was downtown, and they rented me an apartment within walking distance of the office. I stopped a couple of times on my drive up to Denver to buy myself some lingerie: two slips and two pretty nightgowns. That at least gave me some real time in female clothing in the evenings and on weekends while I was living in that apartment. It wasn't a lot, but it was far more than I ever had had the chance to do before then. Mind you, at this point in time, the thought of dressing fully and going out on the town to any extent at all was something that never had even occurred to me, not at all. Later I was transferred to Dallas, but had no opportunity like this past one in the making of the move. Things went back to pretty much how they had been in all the earlier years of my marriage. Then, around 1990, working at a new job with a lot of individual, personal time available to me, I got a computer at work and occasionally received in the mail a disk from AOL offering free access to their network for a certain number of hours. I took them up on it every time I got another disk. In the beginning these disks provided maybe 25 free hours or such; as time progressed the free hours offers got as high as 200 hours. Along about this time, I also began to hear things on the news and perhaps other sources more and more about transgender people. I heard about transgender websites and chat rooms and such. So I began to try to find some of these, the first being an AOL alternative lifestyle "group," similar the today's Yahoo groups. I began to learn a lot through this source, beginning to get some idea of just how many transgenders there were out there and some of the stuff they were doing, even the fact that they would dress in women's clothes and actually go out and about to shop. To restaurants, to clubs, and all kinds of places. One problem I then had was what could I do about that. I had no female clothes, and certainly had no place to keep any even if I had some. As time went on, however, the urge kept getting stronger and stronger; and it was perfectly natural that my feeble mind began to think of ways to accomplish this next plateau: Dress fully, makeup, wig, and all, and get out on the town. Certainly you can appreciate that my early thrusts at this wonderful practice were terrible, to say the least. For one thing, I had to limit any thought of doing this until maybe I had a decent business trip out of town. Second, I had to somehow gather up the nerve of actually go somewhere and buy the stuff I would need. My earlier such shopping trips were to all sorts of thrift stores (Goodwill, Salvation Army, etc.). These sure could be hit or miss type shopping trips. Eventually, however, I did wind up buying a dress and some lingerie that would fit me, a cheap, ugly wig, some shoes, two pair of pantyhose - new ones (I LOVE pantyhose!), a purse, a makeup compact, and a lipstick. I was in San Antonio and went to a bar that I found was a gay bar. I figured these guys in here sure wouldn't mess with me. It certainly was a less-than-fully- satisfying evening; but by golly, I had dressed and gone out on the town. The bartender at the place asked me if I was a cop. I just smiled and told him no, that I was just trying to enjoy a night out with a dress on. It was a gut-wrenching experience, and I just knew that I probably would die. But I didn't, and it simply raised the bar for myself to continue and perhaps eventually do more. As in an earlier time in my story here, chances to do this were limited to times when I was out of town on business or when my family had taken a trip to visit relatives; but I had to take what I could get. In these early ventures out like this, I had virtually no interaction with anybody else; I was too scared and didn't know how to do so anyway. As the years went by, I got bolder and bolder. I eventually collected a small selection decent female clothes, buying all of them either in the store myself or buying them through outlets like the J C Penney catalog. They weren't much, but they were mine. The same with makeup, a wig, perfume, shoes - the whole bit, a small selection of the things I would need. And over time I began to replace some of these items, some because they wore out, and some because I may have found something that I liked better. I sometimes felt maybe I was getting just plain old wild and crazy about this cross dressing. I just knew I loved it, felt more and more comfortable about it, and intended to do more and more of it as I could. I also had developed what sort of became a routine in the times I was out of town. Mostly I traveled, to Houston, Tulsa, and Oklahoma City. One time in Tulsa when it was near Christmas, I was shopping in Penney's and found this beautiful red, sequined, dressy jacket hanging on a high peg on the wall. I could read the tag, and it said it was a 2X, a size that I knew usually would fit. So I got it down and went to find a slightly dressier than usual straight, black shirt in my size (12), which I did find. The store was quite busy, needless to say. I took these items to the service counter, where there a few other women waiting for help, and asked if I could try them on. The girl said, "Sure," and I did. I went to one of the backmost stalls in the dressing room, took off my clothes I had on, and put on this outfit. Both pieces fit perfectly, and the total cost of both of them together was only $70 dollars! Unfortunately, I knew I had no reasonable way of keeping these two beautiful garments safely, so I knew I couldn't buy them. But they looked and felt so wonderful on, I had to just dilly there in that immediate area outside the dressing room just so I could wear them for at least a little while. Another time at another Penney's store I had found two blouses that would fit me and which I liked. I need as long sleeved a blouse as I can get. The price was right, so I took them into the dressing room to try them on. It was quiet in there, and didn't know there were any other women in there. As before, I headed at least part way to the back area and reached to the left to open a stall to use. Much to my surprise, there stood a woman, dressed in long pants, but with nothing on her top but a bra; apparently she was trying on tops. I quickly said, "Excuse me," in the best voice I could conjure up (not very good anyway), closed her door, and headed farther back to another stall. I waited for a moment before I started getting undressed to try on my two blouses, wondering what she might do, if anything. I worried that she might go screaming, or at least just go, to find store security. I never heard a word out of her. It may be that it all happened so quickly, she simply didn't realize that I was a man, but she had looked directly at me. That one scared me. By the way, I bought those two blouses. I loved to go to bridal shops and try on wedding dresses. Is there a more absolutely wonderful item of clothing than a wedding dress that is supported by a full, bouffant petticoat? I think not. Almost surprisingly, I almost never was refused the permission to try one on. Let's face it, if they had any idea I actually might buy one of these wedding dresses, think of how much money they'd take in. Most of the time, I was pretty much left to my own doings to pick out and try on a wedding dress. But sometimes one or more of the sore ladies would take me in and give me assistance in choosing and putting on a wedding dress, including the petticoat and sometimes even a beautiful veil to go with it. Some of them also offered whatever foundation garments I might require, like a long-line, strapless bra or something like that. Some of the time, they would allow me to sit, walk, and stand around in their store for a significant period of time, during which I so enjoyed wearing that wedding dress. Oh, how wonderful some of those experiences were! Sad point: I never have bought my very own wedding dress - a sad gap in the list of my fondest desires. Back when I was doing this, wedding dresses were very fancy, having lots of lace, long sleeves, all sorts of adornment and such. However, as a man with somewhat "normal" male shape, today's mostly strapless wedding owns simply are not as pleasurable to try on. As the years went by, my comfort with dressing up and going out simply got better and better. I eventually acquired a nice gym bag in which to keep my "stuff," and I finally figured out that under the false flooring in my attic was the only place to keep it. I knew my wife wouldn't go into the attic on a bet, so my stuff was completely safe there. I was able to slyly get it out before any trips I took and put it in my car without her ever knowing about it. As I made more forays into public fully dressed, I became even more comfortable about doing it. Early on, I stayed pretty much in the gay/lesbian neighborhoods and clubs. But as time went on, I began to realize that people simply didn't care whether or not they were seeing a man in a dress, which is what I was. I know I didn't pass, but I always tried to dress conservatively and not try to draw attention to myself - just go with the flow and enjoy my chance to be out. It took me a few years, but I eventually got to the stage where I was perfectly comfortable going just about anywhere I wanted, shopping, restaurants, movies, whatever. Movie theaters are dark; but when I have been to a movie, I always tried to sit at least within three or four seats of someone else, maybe a little closer. I haven't had any bad experiences doing this either; it's sort of an evil fun thing to do. I've been lucky in that, with the numerous TG "groups" available on the 'Net, I've been able to locate and meet and become fairly well acquainted with cross dressing friends in Houston, Oklahoma City, and Tulsa, friends with whom I can make contact before a trip and have someone with whom to spend a wonderful evening while out in their town. In fact, there is one of my cross dresser friends in one of those cities, who is living full- time as a woman and with whom I have had some wonderful, warm and steamy petting sessions, evenings that both she and I have enjoyed immensely, partly because I adore some of her features she exhibits as a result of female hormone treatments she's taking and she adores my level of appreciation for her. I still sometimes go to nightclubs when I'm out dressed, but this is not my primary choice of being out. I also have had some "interesting" times in some of these clubs. As I mentioned earlier, I more or less consider myself lesbian when I'm dressed and out and about. I would rather meet and socialize with women in these situations. And I've had some fairly steamy encounters with some of them, all of which have been highly enjoyable and have resulted in no damage done to anyone. But I've had some encounters with men too, not many, but several. I guess I feel that having some man come on to me while I'm dressed must mean I'm doing something right as far as presenting myself in female form. As I said earlier, I know I don't pass; but I must be okay for these guys, some of whom I know were gay and some I know were straight. I've enjoyed these times too. And then there's the restroom question. Best I know, it seems to be pretty common practice, at least in most larger cities these days, that it is permissible to use the restroom which reflects the way you are attired, meaning if you're dressed as a woman, use the women's restroom. I do this matter-of-factly nowadays. I never have had a bad experience doing this, and my practice is to get in there, do what you have to do, and get on out. However, this doesn't mean you can't take some time to freshen your makeup, perfume, and hair; and I always do this. A few years ago I was in Tulsa for a couple of weeks on business. I couldn't dress in the daytime, but I was out dressed every evening, doing all the stuff I've talked about here while out dressed. I had a motel room located such that I had no concern that any of the other motel guests would get curious or nosy about my comings and goings, which was nice. Because I was there for so long, I also took my female clothes out of the gym bag and hung them up nicely in the small closet in my room; why should I hide them from anybody. And I wasn't hesitant at all about throwing my trash in the trash can in my room, rather than the big one outside, things like liner pad and tampon wrappers, makeup containers, stocking packages, makeup-smeared Kleenex, and other related trash too. I'm sure the maid had questions about that; oh well. I was there over the course of three weekends and decided that I ought to attend mass on two of those Sundays. I searched and found and old, but beautiful, small church that I thought I could attend with minimal chance of causing any problem with the other parishioners. I did this and sat way in the back of the church so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. The second Sunday, after I was seated and shortly before mass began, I woman came over to me very graciously and pleasantly and told me that I was welcome at their church anytime and that they appreciated my choosing their church for mass. After mass both Sundays I went to McDonalds for breakfast. After breakfast the second Sunday I went on back to my motel. As I walked up to my room, I noticed the door wasn't completely closed, close but it hadn't latched. I just figured that I had been careless as I left. I walked right on in, and there was a young Hispanic man finishing up changing the sheets on my bed; and here I am, waltzing right in, wearing my beautiful, blue polyester blouse, my black, straight skirt, and 3-1/2-inch heels, wig, makeup and all. Nothing was said to or by either one of us. Occasionally, as a result of working for myself over the last ten years or more, I have been able to choose my own times to take a trip, some of which have been strictly because I wanted to get out of town and dress, and were not related to my business at all. This has given me numerous chances to dress for two days steady or more, and not just one evening, days when I would dress the afternoon I arrived, and stay dressed 24 hours a day for two days or more. These were very special times of dressing, time when you could really get into it, so to speak, times when you didn't have to go back to the motel and take it all off after only an evening. The last of these trips I took, my wife had gone on a short four-day trip to visit friends. As soon as she left one morning, I got myself fully dressed and drove to Houston for a three-day stay. I drove down there dressed, stopped along the way to use the restroom at a Jack-in-the-box restaurant, checked into my LaQuinta dressed, and stayed that way for three whole days, finally taking it all off the evening I had to return home. I had traveled dressed to home in Dallas one time before that from Wichita, Kansas; but that was only a one-way trip, not three whole days of it. My clothes: what kind of female clothes do I have? Well, for one thing, I have a very limited repertoire of female clothes. I like to dress in a sort of career-girl manner, the sort of attire you'd expect to find in an upscale office environment. For one thing, it enhances my chance of being "accepted" wherever I should decide to go and minimizes the chance of not being accepted anywhere. It's not sloppy-looking, and it's not so dressy as to stand out in public - okay for just about anything from the neighborhood grocery store to the real nice restaurant. Second, I like this "level" of female attire, clothes that look nice, because I hope to look nice, at least as nice as possible. I have a reasonably small waist, but I have a fairly large torso and long arms. This means that full-length dresses are not real practical, but I do have one full-length dress that seems to work okay for me. If the waist fits, the bodice would likely be too small, and if the bodice were full enough, the waist would fall off itself and be baggy. So I have adopted skirts and blouses almost exclusively. I have three black skirts: one straight and lined, one pleated, and one with a bit of fullness to it - all knee length. I always wear a black leather belt with my skirts or my dress, and I have two that are about two inches wide. I cinch them up to accent my waist a bit; and it seems to work, because I've had numerous women, who obviously recognize me as a man in a dress, compliment me on what a nice waist I have. I have three blouses. My favorite is a charmeuse, very silky, red, pink, and black floral print. I have gotten many compliments on this blouse; and frankly, I can see why. It's beautiful. And it feels so dreamy when I put it on. The other two are made of a sort of crinkly fabric that feels very nice, have small ruffles along the buttons, and have long sleeves that end in a widening, ruffle-like cuff - a red one and a blue one. I buy my shoes at Payless, partly because of price, but largely because that's one of very few places where I can find my size (women's 13). I have two pair of black heels, one with a 2-3/4-inch heel and the other with a 3-1/2-inch heel. I find both of them quite comfortable, and I really have no problem walking in them. I love 'em! Because of my family situation, I can't shave any part of my body, so I wear multiple pairs (usually 3 pair) of pantyhose; they seem to do an adequate job of concealing my leg hair. I usually buy those at Burlington Coat Factory. I'll use one pair of their basic pantyhose, one pair with minimum support but with a control top, and the third a basic off-black pair. The color helps even more to disguise the leg hair, and I like the way they look with my black skirts. The control top pair helps a lot with keeping my jewels tucked away, along with a feminine pad. I LOVE pantyhose! I have two wigs that are very similar to each other. They both have fairly curly shoulder-length hair and bangs across the forehead, and they are in my natural hair color - brown. I have two ordinary brassieres and a long-line brassier. I use the long-line one when I dress up, because it gives me some waist cinching without having to have a separate waist cincher; and I love its confining feel. I wear one or the other of the other two when I sleep. All of my nylon underwear and lingerie is Vanity Fair brand. Why not get the best, softest, silkiest lingerie possible? I have bought all of these at the V-F outlet centers sometime fond along major freeways. Those include two slips, six pair of full-cut panties, and four, beautiful, long nightgowns (Can you tell I love silky nightgowns?). For breasts, I can't afford the real silicone ones, the ones with the "real" weight, much as I would love to. I have a pair that are made of foam rubber, but that have a little weight in them. They're not the best, but they work for me. They give me breasts to put out there, breasts I wouldn't have otherwise. My makeup consists of Revlon Colorstay foundation, Cover Girl blush and pressed powder, Maybelline washable mascara, Cover Girl RED lipstick (I love red lipstick), L'Oreal eye shadow and eye liner, and the cheapest lip liner pencil I can find. My perfume is a cheap knock-off of Giorgio that to me smells absolutely heavenly. I've been complimented many, many times by both men and women about how they love it too. I have a small, gold watch, five or six pairs of clip-on earrings, four various necklaces, and one group of bangle-type bracelets; all of my jewelry is gold-colored. Most of the time I use one brand or another of stick-on nails, because most of my ventures out are for only one evening; but when possible I go ahead and use glue-on nails, which are so much less trouble to worry about. In my gym bag I keep a jar of cold cream, some eye makeup remover, some Jergens skin lotion, some KY lubricant, a package of feminine pads, and a box of tampons. The KY is to help insert the tampons. I like the pads because they help make for a smoother front down in the crotch area, plus they're there in case I have an accident with my penis. I like the feel of a tampon in my rear, and mentally it helps me feel more like a woman when I'm dressed and it's there. I think that's really about all of my "stuff." You'll recall that in the beginning I referred to myself as a used-to-be cross dresser. Sadly, that's true. Like so many of us girls, I have purged multiple times. But I recently purged again for what I firmly intend to be the last time. My living situation has changed in a manner that I'd prefer not to discuss, but let's just say that my ability to continue concealing my cross-dressing habit has diminished considerably. As far as I know, none of my family or friends knows of my dressing up to this point in time, and because I've gone this far, apparently safely in regard to that aspect of it, I intend to keep it that way. Further, although I still, honestly look pretty well for my 72 years, I no longer am really happy with the way I look when dressed. Let's face it, my face is beginning to show my age a bit, and I'd rather not accept that lower level of appearance. Over these many years of dressing, there are many bad things that could have happened to me while out dressed female, or not dressed female for that matter, things like having a bad wreck where I needed to be taken to the hospital, getting mugged, and perhaps a jillion other things. Luckily for me, none of those things have happened, but I may be pushing my luck such that the odds could catch up with me at any time, but I'd hate for my family to find out about my dressing as a result of something like this. Still further, as my age advances, there's always the possibility of some serious illness striking me; the one that concerns me the most would be a heart attack, but there are others. This also would be a bad way for my family to discover that Dad/Hubby is a cross dresser. So I've resigned myself that, for practical reasons, though I don't like any of them, it's time to hang up my bra. A couple of weeks ago I tossed my whole gym bag full of goodies into the trash for the weekly pickup, and it's gone. Pray for me, wish me luck, or whatever you think is appropriate. I'll miss all of you, and I'll sure as the dickens miss my dressing. In the meantime, thank goodness for Fictionmania!