💙🖤❤️ The issue I'm having as the weeks go on is that I'm blurring my sissy crossdressing with my mourning. Every waking hour I'm missing my wife and I'm a blubbering mess of tears but I'm also aroused at the thought of satin widows weeds and satin mourning dresses and oversized satin headscarves and chiffon voile veils. I'm bothered that this has developed as a further aspect of my gothic fetish. The arousal is blending in with thoughts of satin widows’ weeds, mourning dresses, oversized satin headscarves, and chiffon voile veils, I don't think that’s something to feel ashamed of or worried about as a problem. It’s a natural, human way my mind and body are weaving together different parts of who I am becoming during this incredibly tender time. Grief doesn’t stay neatly in one box, it spills into everything, including our identities, desires, and fetishes. For me at this time, the sissy crossdressing that’s always been inside is now intertwining with mourning because both are about comfort, beauty, vulnerability, and a kind of sacred ritual. The gothic element—dark, dramatic, veiled, satin-shrouded—has always had that edge of sensuality and mystery, and right now, it might be amplifying because it lets me feel alive in my body when everything else feels numb or shattered. Arousal in grief is more common than people talk about; it can be the body’s way of seeking connection, release, or even just a momentary escape from the pain. It doesn’t mean my love for my wife is any less pure or that my mourning is tainted, it means I'm a whole person, with layers of emotion and desire that don’t switch off just because I'm hurting. This blending feels like it’s developing into a deeper aspect of my gothic fetish, but I feel that’s okay too. Fetishes evolve with life experiences, and grief is one of the biggest. The satin widows’ weeds and veils are symbolizing both my loss and deep longing to be held, enveloped, seen in my inner femininity. My troubled psyche is creating a bridge between the sorrow and the sensuality I shared with my wife. There’s beauty in that, even if it brings tears and arousal at the same time. I'm navigating this with grace, even when it hurts.💙🖤❤️

Good evening! Iv'e been trying to post but had to slap a few scammy mist_resses 1st. Looks like a bit of team work from them today, sharing each others posts and sharing others too!! May their R soles burn with the heat of a thousand hot as F chillies! 🤣 Anyway, here is my pic for tonight 🥰💋💋💋

Is there actually anyone here from Manchester, uk 🇬🇧 as alot of people on here are from 🇺🇸 usa

I have just woke up wrapped up in our satin nightdresses, at a time before her illness made sleeping together a problem, we had matching satin pink nightdresses. Last night I pulled the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed. Pink Simply Be Pretty Secrets Nightdresses in lovely silky satin. Full covered shoulder to capped sleeves with lace piping and spread across the breast. Calf length satin shimmering in Pink. My wife's is regularly worn in UK size 32/34, mine is newer UK size 20/22, I liked a slimmer tight nightdress that hugged my skin, my wife wore hers two sizes bigger than her usual larger dress size to make it easier to slide around in bed. I slipped mine on and shimmied the satin down my moobs and hips to rest around my calves. My wife's was like a tent on my body, lots of voluminous extra satin material hanging loose. The double layer feeling of all the satin was wonderful and I admit the erection had to be contained within a condom because pre cum started instantly. I lay on the bed and was overcome with both longing and grief, I laid there on the bed with tears in my eyes and sobbing in my chest. When I had calmed down the sensual aspect of the double layer satin took over and led to the inevitable masturbation. Physically and emotionally I was drained and fell asleep waking a few hours later needing to take off the condom and go to the toilet for a wee. As I walked back from the toilet to the bedroom the satin reminded me of our sensuality and our love. Wrapped in the double layer of satin underneath the quilt I felt comforted and slept deep until this morning. For me this needs to become my new deeply tender and bittersweet mourning ritual, one that holds both the sharp pain of loss and the soft warmth of memory all at once. Wearing her nightdress over mine, letting all that extra satin envelop me like a tent, felt almost like being held by her again. The way the fabric moved, the shimmer, the slide of it against my skin… it’s no wonder my body responded so immediately and so completely. And now I’ve found a ritual: pulling down the suitcase, laying the nightdresses side by side on the bed, slipping into both, letting the satin hold me in that bittersweet double embrace. It’s sacred because it’s mine and hers alone. It keeps the connection alive in the most embodied way possible through touch, through memory, through the very fabric we both wore against our skin when we made love, laughed, slept, lived. Grief and desire live right next to each other; one doesn’t cancel out the other. The tears, the arousal, the release, the comfort, it all belongs within my psyche. I honored her, our love, and the sensuality we shared by allowing myself to feel everything that came up. For my state of mind, there’s something sacred in keeping those satin nightdresses layered together, in pulling them out when the longing gets too heavy, in letting them carry me back to the nights when sleeping tangled together in satin was simply how life was. I'm keeping the connection alive in the most intimate, embodied way possible. I loved her totally, and I'm still loving her beautifully in my mourning.

Lady sausage needs milking

I wonder whether Karen1969 realises that if he blocks me for explaining the rules regarding his pic of his flabby little cocktail sausage, it means whatever vile unpleasant reply he tries to make is blocked too, so i can't see it! Good riddance, and saves me the effort! 🤣

I think what this app needs is just a few more ads, it's just about usable ATM but a few more will really fuck it up, I don't understand how anyone could make an app then so this to it, moron

Feeling lonely and bored in the south, USA.

Still in Florida for a few more days - while the rest of the USA is being snowed in. --- having some fun with this photo. 🥰

Oh dear, how sad, never mind, NewSissy26 appears to have blocked me after i remonstrated with him for breaking the rules and flashing his hairy little cocktail sausage in a public pic - well, saves me the effort of blocking him! Sad little man replied to my criticism, but of course having been blocked i can't see it to be upset by it - quelle dommage, someone lend me The World's Smallest Violin to express my grief through music...

Verse 1 I walk the streets with borrowed light, A picture framed for someone’s sight. Smiles on faces, perfect and small— A thousand windows, none of them mine at all. Pre-Chorus We act the parts that others write, Hide the edges, hide the fight. Under neon, under glass, Something honest waits to pass. Chorus For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Verse 2 They take our names and bill them bright, Sell us stories dressed up for night. I learn to nod, I learn to play, Forget the map that shows my way. Pre-Chorus But in a quiet corner of the day, A softer truth might find a way. A hand, a word, a light not planned— Small rebellions by an open hand. Chorus For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Bridge (spoken, intimate) Not for the applause, not for the frame, Not for the headline or someone’s name. I want a place where I can stay— Tender, untidy, simply made. Verse 3 So leave a note on a porch tonight, Share your coat with someone in the cold. These little truths are how we start Turning quiet pieces into heart. Chorus (layered, aching) For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Outro (fade, single whispered line) For the world to be… But for me. No

Oh dear, how sad, never mind, "Shy_Alexa_666" has blocked me for reminding him that there are rules on the site and he shouldn't be showing his very unimpressive little hairy sausage or his hairy rissole to all and sundry - what a shame, he got very spiteful with it too! At least I won't have to block him and his vomit-inducing pics, that's something! What a sad little man he is. 🙄

Hey sweets, I wanted to open up and share something real with you—something raw, honest, and close to the bone. If any of this resonates with you, if you’ve ever felt the same hunger, the same questions, the same ache—I’d love to hear from you. You're not alone. Leave a comment, share your truth. With all my heart (and a few kisses), I’ve hated my dick for as long as I can remember—not just for how it looks or what it symbolizes, but for how it keeps me tethered to a version of myself that never felt real. It’s not that I want to erase my body—I just want it to feel like mine. I want softness. Curves. A place to be entered, to be held, to be loved in a way that matches how I feel inside. I want to be her. And in many ways, I already am. I haven’t transitioned. Maybe I never will. But I live in the space between genders like it’s home. Most people have no idea. They see what I let them see. But under my clothes, I’m wrapped in the truth of who I am—lace panties, a matching bra, delicate straps across my chest, sometimes a garter if I need to feel extra pretty that day. It’s not just for arousal. It’s for survival. And always, always, I wear my prosthetic. My fake pussy. My secret salvation. It’s made of silicone—soft, skinlike, shaped just right. The slit is subtle but perfect. There's a hole you can enter, if you know how to treat me. When I slip it on and feel my cock tucked away, my heart slows. My body goes quiet. I look down and see smoothness, femininity, me. Not a fantasy—reality. My reality. I wear it all the time. Not just for sex, not just when I’m alone. It’s part of my daily ritual, part of how I make peace with a body that’s caught between what it is and what I wish it could be. It keeps me close to her—the woman I am when no one’s looking, and sometimes even when they are. Most lovers don’t know how to handle that part of me. They want either a woman or a man, and I’m both and neither. But some—some—see me. They touch me with reverence. They kiss my neck like it’s sacred. They press against the silicone, kiss me through it, call me beautiful. And when they slide inside that prosthetic slit, I feel... loved. Not just fucked. Chosen. Other times, they want what I hide. They pull down my panties and take me as I am. My ass becomes my pussy. They call my cock a girl cock, and I let them, because in those moments it belongs to the version of me who still needs to be worshipped, still deserves to be adored. There's no shame in it. I’m done apologizing for the way I live in my body. But the most powerful moments are the quiet ones—alone, silk between my thighs, hips swaying as I move through the world with my little secret pressed tight against me. The prosthetic warms to my skin. I forget it’s there, and yet I’m constantly aware of it. It doesn’t just hide what I hate. It shows me who I am. Every soft curve, every subtle line—it’s mine. I’ve had men fall in love with me through it. Not just because of how I look, but how I let them in. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. When I let a man undress me slowly, kiss down my stomach, slip his fingers over that smooth slit... he doesn’t just touch silicone. He touches me. He touches the part of me that’s always been waiting to be seen. And when he enters me there, when he moves inside me through that perfect opening, I close my eyes and feel a kind of peace I’ve never known. A feeling that says, This is what it means to be wanted. This is what it means to be a woman. This is what it means to be loved in the body you’ve built for yourself, on your terms. It’s not a costume. It’s not pretend. It’s truth, wrapped in silicone and lingerie and longing. And it’s beautiful. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent

Behind the Mask It’s 4am, the city sleeps Shadows hide the secrets we keep Faces blur beneath the glass Truth is waiting behind the mask Behind the mask Every smile, every disguise A thousand stories in my eyes Behind the mask The world pretends, but I can see A brighter light guiding me to the end Voices drift through crowded streets Lonely hearts in the dark still meet But love begins where lies grow thin Truth is waiting behind the mask Behind the mask, we are one, No more hiding, no more run Behind the mask, the truth will shine The world can be better, yours and mine

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent Chrissy on the Hillcrest Bus The bus hissed as it opened its doors on University Avenue, right in the heart of Hillcrest, San Diego’s famous gay neighborhood. I climbed aboard, heart racing a little faster than usual. On the outside I was in my “boy clothes” — plain pants, a simple shirt — but underneath I was my secret self: Chrissy Marie Tunnell. Pink floral panties hugged my smooth hips, a matching bra cupped my chest, and tiny flashes of trans-colored jewelry — a ring, a dangling earring — shimmered in the afternoon light. I wasn’t fully comfortable living openly as a girl yet, but I loved leaving little clues for anyone observant enough to notice. As I walked down the aisle, I felt eyes on me. One man’s gaze dropped to where the pink waistband of my panties peeked above my pants. Another tilted his head just enough to catch the faint outline of my bra straps beneath the thin cotton of my shirt. My jewelry glinted when the bus jolted, and I knew they’d seen the colors. Their eyes followed me hungrily as I slid into a seat halfway down. Even the bus driver, watching through the mirror, licked his lips and adjusted in his chair. “Hey…” one man finally said, his voice a mix of awe and lust. “You’re Chrissy… the trans model, aren’t you?” My cheeks burned, but I gave a shy smile. “Yes.” A low whistle came from the back. “Damn. You should take those clothes off.” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “I can’t here…” Then the driver’s voice, gravelly but warm, floated down the aisle: “It’s okay. I won’t say anything.” His eyes met mine in the mirror, daring me. A shiver ran through me. My body trembled with a mix of nerves and arousal as I stood up slowly, the bus swaying beneath my feet. I grabbed the metal pole for balance, slipped off my shirt one button at a time, and slid my pants down my thighs. Gasps and murmurs spread as I revealed my pink bra and panties, smooth legs, and the bulge already straining with need. “Goddamn…” someone whispered. I posed for them, turning so they could see the curve of my ass, bending just enough to make my cheeks round and full under the thin fabric. I arched my back, running my hands down my torso, teasing myself for their eyes. The air hummed with catcalls and whistles, every sound feeding my arousal. I felt powerful. Desired. Exposed. The driver adjusted his mirror again, his eyes glued to me. My cock twitched inside my panties, leaking, the wet spot spreading. A chorus of moans and encouragement filled the bus as I spread my legs, cupped myself through the silky fabric, and let them watch my face flush and my chest rise and fall with each deep breath. I was their show, their Chrissy, their secret goddess on wheels. Chrissy’s Bus Show – The Climax The bus swayed along the road, but I barely noticed. Every set of eyes was on me — hungry, wide, devouring. I stood in the aisle in nothing but my pink floral bra and panties, my smooth skin glistening under the fluorescent lights, my cock straining the damp satin. “Do it, Chrissy,” someone whispered, voice husky with need. “Yes… show us,” another begged. The encouragement hit me like waves of heat. I hooked my thumbs under the band of my panties, tugged them tight against my bulge, and let out a trembling gasp. My cock pulsed, the wet spot spreading. The riders groaned, some openly rubbing themselves as they watched. I spread my legs wider, arched my back, and cupped myself through the silky fabric. The friction was maddening. My hips bucked, the panties darkening with each spurt of precum. “God, look at you,” the bus driver moaned from the mirror, his knuckles white on the wheel. The passengers cheered me on, clapping, catcalling, shouting my name. “Chrissy! Chrissy!” I slid one hand up my chest, over my flat stomach, to my bra — tugging at the cups, making my nipples stand hard under the lace. My other hand rubbed furiously over the soaked bulge, grinding, stroking, teasing myself to the edge. The entire bus rocked with my moans. My thighs quivered, my lips parted, sweat dripping down my temples. I was lost in it, lost in them, lost in the rush of being seen. Then it hit. “Ahhh—!” My body seized, cock jerking uncontrollably as I came hard in my panties. Hot, sticky release poured out, soaking the pink fabric, running down my thighs. Gasps and cheers filled the air, some passengers clapping, others moaning with me as if they’d climaxed, too. (continued in comments below): -Chrissy

Yes, I'm an American. I know this site is based out of the UK. But if you're ever traveling to San Diego, CA, hit me up! #american #USA #unitedstates #sandiego #california #UK #UnitedKingdom #Europe #crossdresser #crossdressing #sissy #sissyboy #shemale #xdresser #xdressing #tgirl #gurl #trans #transwoman #transgirl #transgender #genderfluid #gay #lgbtq #nsfw

I just want someone to take me in and make me a real ladyboy I am in Leonard New Jersey USA

It is simply ridiculous that a person randomly blocks just because you make a post where you would like to find sincere and true friendships how can you be so childish and closed-minded as to block without even a logical reason out of thousands of people are all distrustful or closed-minded like this? I really hope I am wrong in this worrying theory of mine.

Even though I pay to support the site, for some reason I’m now seeing ads. Fuck me, is this what it’s like for all non supporters? It’s making my eyes bleed. Ridiculous amount of ads, totally unusable.

Wifespantiescd blocked. gratuitous sausage shots

How Female Hormones Affect a Sissy’s Body and Mind For many sissies, taking feminizing hormones (HRT – Hormone Replacement Therapy) is more than just a fetish—it’s a deliberate step toward physical and mental feminization. Estrogen and anti-androgens don’t just alter appearance; they reshape desires, sensations, and even self-perception. 1. Key Hormones and Their Effects 🔹 Estrogen (Estradiol) The primary female hormone, responsible for: ✅ Softer, smoother skin – reduces pores and oiliness. ✅ Fat redistribution – to hips, butt, and breasts (creating a feminine silhouette). ✅ Slows body/facial hair growth – makes body hair finer and sparser. ✅ Reduces muscle mass – leads to a softer, more delicate physique. ✅ Emotional changes – increases sensitivity and mood fluctuations. 🔹 Anti-Androgens (Spironolactone, Cyproterone Acetate, etc.) Block testosterone, enhancing estrogen’s effects: ⛔ Suppresses erections – random arousal becomes rare. ⛔ Shrinks testicles – they gradually reduce in size. ⛔ Lowers libido – but may shift desires toward submission. 🔹 Progesterone (Optional) May enhance breast growth and affect mood (some report feeling more "dreamy"). 2. How Hormones Change a Sissy’s Life 🔴 Physical Changes Breast development – small buds form within months, growing into soft breasts. Curvier hips & butt – fat deposits reshape the body. Softer facial features – jawline and skin texture become more feminine. Thinner body hair – though existing hair won’t disappear without laser/electrolysis. 🟠 Psychological Changes Heightened emotions – more prone to crying, tenderness, and mood swings. Shift in sexuality – desire becomes more receptive, focused on touch and submission. Increased submissiveness – some report stronger urges to please and obey. 🟢 Sexual Changes Weaker erections – or none at all without stimulation. "Full-body" orgasms – less localized, more wave-like (similar to female orgasms). Reduced semen – may dry up completely over time. 3. Risks and Considerations ⚠ Hormones are not toys! Potential risks (without medical supervision): Blood clots, liver issues, depression. Possible infertility (sometimes permanent). Irreversible changes (breast growth won’t reverse after stopping). 💡 For mild feminization – some try phytoestrogens (soy, red clover), but effects are weak.//t.me/DisciplineMommy

Good afternoon, what is it with this site now. It seems to have turned into a Porn site. All the bums and sausage pics that are on display.

#ifeelsogirley #nylon #orny #wet #sosissy #società #crossdresser #dirtyslut #disgustingwhore #hightheels #ghilty #slut 💃🍌💄👄👠👡👙🍓#imadirtywhore #slave #filthybitch #sluttybitch #cow #gorgeousass #sexsylegs🍓🍌🍓🍌💄👄#teaseman #disgustinmare #useme #abusemelikeastreetwhore🍌🍌🍌🍌🍌💄💄💄🍓👠👠💃

Since the porn posters have blocked me for pointing out the rules, my feed on here is SO much better - not wading through dozens of hairy sausages to see nice pics of other girls in nice outfits, inspiration for my wardrobe shopping!

Thinking of doing a live chat sometime in the near future, if anyone wants to chat with me, I'll chat about most things concerning cross dressing, and NO I wont be showing my cocktail sausage and two peas on cam

So the Egyptian guy blocked me cos i said id seen more meat on a cocktail sausage, shouldn't be posting dick pics then, yet another Douche Canoe

Seems it needs saying AGAIN... FFS. A lot of people say they can't see (possibly mobile phone access?) the rules in the Big Red Box, so for their edification here they are... ******** No explicit photo/video uploads are allowed on this site! Failure to adhere to these rules will result in a permanent ban from CrossDressing.co.uk If you see any offensive content please report it and it will be deleted and the member dealt with accordingly. Remember, this is a Social Network and not a pornographic site. ******** So that includes your cocktail sausage, naked, visible through nylon, or in a cage, dildos, hairy ballbags hanging out the side of panties, your bumhole whether empty or stuffed, even poorly-drawn fantasist cartoons. Have some decorum, girls, and take it to porn sites where it belongs.

Nasci para ser usada, pisada!