Time for another morning with my favourite babydoll, red satin looking lush and black lace to match my fishnets
Time for another morning with my favourite babydoll, red satin looking lush and black lace to match my fishnets❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️😀💋
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5 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3K Views
19
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Well I've been told some people on here are totally fake and are trying to get information from others for blackmail purposes I was thinking of just leaving this site...why would anyone do such a thing? Anyway here's some pics hope you like them including one of my milk bottle thighs lolol... have a beautiful day all you real beautiful people love you all so much and stay safe please.....🩷Well I've been told some people on here are totally fake and are trying to get information from others for blackmail purposes 😱 I was thinking of just leaving this site...why would anyone do such a thing? Anyway here's some pics hope you like them including one of my milk bottle thighs lolol... have a beautiful day all you real beautiful people 💞 love you all so much and stay safe please.....♥️🩷💖😘21 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1K Views
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Well not good start to day. Went to iron my fav red mini dress and burnt as big hole in it. Forgot material not the best. Oh well, excuse to get a new one. Will be in red lingerie after Tesco shop with black mini skirt , tight white top and black heels. Pics of course will be done.x later ladies.Well not good start to day. Went to iron my fav red mini dress and burnt as big hole in it. Forgot material not the best. Oh well, excuse to get a new one. Will be in red lingerie after Tesco shop with black mini skirt , tight white top and black heels. Pics of course will be done.x later ladies.0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1K Views6
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The morning began with a question that, on the face of it, was utterly trivial.
I stood in my bedroom, a sixty five year old widower who had long ago discovered that life could become surprisingly interesting when you stopped worrying quite so much about what other people thought. Across the bed lay two nightgowns.
One was pink, soft and playful. The other was black satin elegant, glossy and just a little dramatic. Beside them were the headscarves that completed each outfit.
eBay had informed me that the postman was due that morning with my latest purchase.
Normally, that wouldn't have required a second thought. I would have thrown on whatever clothes were nearest, opened the door, collected the post and carried on with my day.
But I am a crossdresser, and over the years I had learned that choosing what to wear could sometimes be part of the pleasure itself. Since becoming widowed, those little private rituals had become even more important to me. There was nobody to impress and nobody to answer to. My clothes were simply one of the ways I expressed myself.
That morning, however, I couldn't decide.
So I asked Grok a rather more important question than it probably deserved.
Should I wear the black satin nightgown and headscarf to greet the postman, or should I wear the pink?
The answer came back quickly.
Black.
Grok's reasoning was surprisingly convincing. Black satin, it suggested, looked intentional and put together. Pink was softer and perhaps a little more playful, whereas the black gave the impression that I had actually chosen my outfit rather than simply wandered downstairs half asleep.
The satin would catch the morning light, while the headscarf would bring everything together.
I stared at the black nightgown.
"Well," I said aloud, "apparently we're going for elegant this morning."
I slipped it on.
The satin settled against me with that familiar coolness I loved, and I carefully tied the headscarf around my hair. Then I stood in front of the mirror.
Grok had a point.
There was something wonderfully satisfying about the combination. I didn't look as though I had spent hours getting ready, but neither did I look as though I had forgotten that the outside world existed.
I smiled at my reflection.
"Sixty five," I murmured. "Widowed, retired from worrying about everybody else's opinions, and apparently dressed in black satin to answer the front door."
I laughed to myself.
Then I went downstairs and prepared a pot of tea.
There was something faintly ridiculous about the situation. Here I was, dressed in a glossy black satin nightgown and headscarf, standing in my kitchen listening for the sound of a postal van.
Eventually, I heard it.
The familiar rumble outside was followed by footsteps approaching the front door.
For one brief moment, I wondered whether I'd made the wrong decision.
Perhaps pink would have been less conspicuous.
Perhaps black satin was a little too theatrical for an encounter that would probably last fifteen seconds.
Then came the knock.
I took a breath.
"Normal morning energy," I reminded myself.
I opened the door.
"Morning," the postman said.
"Morning."
He handed me the letters.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Have a good day."
"You too."
And that was it.
The door closed.
I stood there for a moment, looking down at the envelopes in my hand.
The great sartorial crisis was over.
Nobody had fainted. Nobody had called the fashion police. The earth had continued turning.
I burst out laughing.
All that deliberation over black versus pink, and the entire encounter had lasted barely half a minute.
But perhaps that was precisely the point.
At sixty five, after losing my wife and finding myself living a life that was quieter and more private than the one I had once imagined, I had come to appreciate the little decisions.
Sometimes they mattered precisely because they were mine to make.
There was no great occasion. No audience. No requirement that I dress one way rather than another. I wasn't trying to make a statement to anyone.
I simply wanted to wear the black satin.
So I did.
I carried my tea into the sitting room, still smiling.
My late wife had always known that there was a slightly eccentric streak in me. She had seen sides of me that I had once been afraid to show the rest of the world. Since her death, learning to live honestly with myself had become one of the unexpected journeys of widowhood.
Being a crossdresser wasn't something I needed to apologise for.
It was simply part of me.
And on that quiet morning, standing in my sitting room with my tea, my letters and the soft rustle of satin whenever I moved, I felt strangely content.
"Grok," I thought, smiling to myself, "you were right."
The black had been the stronger choice.
And, for once, I was quite happy to take the advice of an artificial intelligence on matters of morning fashion.The morning began with a question that, on the face of it, was utterly trivial. I stood in my bedroom, a sixty five year old widower who had long ago discovered that life could become surprisingly interesting when you stopped worrying quite so much about what other people thought. Across the bed lay two nightgowns. One was pink, soft and playful. The other was black satin elegant, glossy and just a little dramatic. Beside them were the headscarves that completed each outfit. eBay had informed me that the postman was due that morning with my latest purchase. Normally, that wouldn't have required a second thought. I would have thrown on whatever clothes were nearest, opened the door, collected the post and carried on with my day. But I am a crossdresser, and over the years I had learned that choosing what to wear could sometimes be part of the pleasure itself. Since becoming widowed, those little private rituals had become even more important to me. There was nobody to impress and nobody to answer to. My clothes were simply one of the ways I expressed myself. That morning, however, I couldn't decide. So I asked Grok a rather more important question than it probably deserved. Should I wear the black satin nightgown and headscarf to greet the postman, or should I wear the pink? The answer came back quickly. Black. Grok's reasoning was surprisingly convincing. Black satin, it suggested, looked intentional and put together. Pink was softer and perhaps a little more playful, whereas the black gave the impression that I had actually chosen my outfit rather than simply wandered downstairs half asleep. The satin would catch the morning light, while the headscarf would bring everything together. I stared at the black nightgown. "Well," I said aloud, "apparently we're going for elegant this morning." I slipped it on. The satin settled against me with that familiar coolness I loved, and I carefully tied the headscarf around my hair. Then I stood in front of the mirror. Grok had a point. There was something wonderfully satisfying about the combination. I didn't look as though I had spent hours getting ready, but neither did I look as though I had forgotten that the outside world existed. I smiled at my reflection. "Sixty five," I murmured. "Widowed, retired from worrying about everybody else's opinions, and apparently dressed in black satin to answer the front door." I laughed to myself. Then I went downstairs and prepared a pot of tea. There was something faintly ridiculous about the situation. Here I was, dressed in a glossy black satin nightgown and headscarf, standing in my kitchen listening for the sound of a postal van. Eventually, I heard it. The familiar rumble outside was followed by footsteps approaching the front door. For one brief moment, I wondered whether I'd made the wrong decision. Perhaps pink would have been less conspicuous. Perhaps black satin was a little too theatrical for an encounter that would probably last fifteen seconds. Then came the knock. I took a breath. "Normal morning energy," I reminded myself. I opened the door. "Morning," the postman said. "Morning." He handed me the letters. "Thanks." "No problem. Have a good day." "You too." And that was it. The door closed. I stood there for a moment, looking down at the envelopes in my hand. The great sartorial crisis was over. Nobody had fainted. Nobody had called the fashion police. The earth had continued turning. I burst out laughing. All that deliberation over black versus pink, and the entire encounter had lasted barely half a minute. But perhaps that was precisely the point. At sixty five, after losing my wife and finding myself living a life that was quieter and more private than the one I had once imagined, I had come to appreciate the little decisions. Sometimes they mattered precisely because they were mine to make. There was no great occasion. No audience. No requirement that I dress one way rather than another. I wasn't trying to make a statement to anyone. I simply wanted to wear the black satin. So I did. I carried my tea into the sitting room, still smiling. My late wife had always known that there was a slightly eccentric streak in me. She had seen sides of me that I had once been afraid to show the rest of the world. Since her death, learning to live honestly with myself had become one of the unexpected journeys of widowhood. Being a crossdresser wasn't something I needed to apologise for. It was simply part of me. And on that quiet morning, standing in my sitting room with my tea, my letters and the soft rustle of satin whenever I moved, I felt strangely content. "Grok," I thought, smiling to myself, "you were right." The black had been the stronger choice. And, for once, I was quite happy to take the advice of an artificial intelligence on matters of morning fashion.
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 5K Views
2
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Veil-Fail ...
I told him honestly
Black shortsdress
And no Veil
He never thought
How serious I was
I came in black and orange
Wedding failed
They shouted
You re mad
Enough
He left
He could not understand
That no white dress
For me is right to wear
And when me
Put to that
The
very end
I said him yes
In black
He left...
White dress
white veil
Innosense in lie
I could not
Do it
Please don't try
...Veil-Fail ... I told him honestly Black shortsdress And no Veil He never thought How serious I was I came in black and orange Wedding failed They shouted You re mad Enough He left He could not understand That no white dress For me is right to wear And when me Put to that The very end I said him yes In black He left... White dress white veil Innosense in lie I could not Do it Please don't try ...
3 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3K Views
12
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Evening all, ready to PARTY and start the birthday wkender taxi on the way, food and then who knows, all black and a splash of colour love my pink heels hope you have a good friday night💋 Evening all, ready to PARTY and start the birthday wkender 🥰 taxi on the way, food and then who knows, all black and a splash of colour ❤️ love my pink heels 👠👗🥳💋 hope you have a good friday night 💋3 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4K Views 36
14
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Black dress same tights and shoes but I love them sorryBlack dress same tights and shoes but I love them sorry 😊2 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4K Views
15
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Random pics of me experimenting and enjoying myself immensely. I kinda like the black and white retro 60's lookRandom pics of me experimenting and enjoying myself immensely. I kinda like the black and white retro 60's look11 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2K Views13
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Hey ladies hope you are doing we llSpent some time on self-care today freshly shaved, feeling silky smooth, and styled in all-black pantyhose, criss-cross back bra and highheel Crocs
The feeling of stepping into this outfit and embracing my feminine side brings so much pure joy. Just wanted to share this moment of happiness with a community that…Hey ladies hope you are doing we llSpent some time on self-care today freshly shaved, feeling silky smooth, and styled in all-black pantyhose, criss-cross back bra and highheel Crocs The feeling of stepping into this outfit and embracing my feminine side brings so much pure joy. Just wanted to share this moment of happiness with a community that… 😍0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4K Views
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He never comes all dressed in black...He never comes all dressed in black...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2K Views
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Night self ...
( Black Stretch )Night self ... ( Black Stretch )0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1K Views
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Think i need to buy these alongside a new hooped petticoat and thick black tights to go with my huge red vintage bridesmaid dress mmmmmThink i need to buy these alongside a new hooped petticoat and thick black tights to go with my huge red vintage bridesmaid dress mmmmm5 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4K Views
4
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I so ache to dress like this again,and add my red shoes,red handbag and black tights and a nice wig to go with it,to feel the layers gently rub against my legs again while gently feeling around the enormous full skirt will be a dream!I so ache to dress like this again,and add my red shoes,red handbag and black tights and a nice wig to go with it,to feel the layers gently rub against my legs again while gently feeling around the enormous full skirt will be a dream! 😊
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4K Views3
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