Hope you all have a great evening - might change into something a bit more 🫣 later x

New panties! Kisses! -Chrissy https://chrissyinsd.blogspot.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy

It's t to start showing legs a bit more brvely...:)

Well I did quite a bit of knicker and bra shopping today-I bought nice matching bra and knickers set, some purple knickers (favourite colour) from Next, then went to buy more knickers from M+S-came out with black and purple. I have only done a couple of photos but will do more. I returned the silky French knickers and body form knickers that my mother in law loaned me-she said that I can go in her knickers drawer anytime and borrow he panties-I said thanks and yes I will

Leaving this site , nothing but and bunch of stuck up bitches and picky asholes

Morning everyone, woke up abit late today 😅

Why Do We Like Butts? This question stuck with me after seeing a dumb Facebook meme. A guy tells a woman she has a great ass. She replies sarcastically: “Thank you! I keep poop in it.” Crude—but true. We defecate through our butts. And yet, across cultures, centuries, genders, and sexual orientations, humans are deeply attracted to them. Straight, gay, bi, queer. Cis, trans, gender-nonconforming. People admire them, desire them, sculpt them, and eroticize them relentlessly. So why? The answer isn’t about function. Attraction doesn’t work that way. It’s about signal, shape, and meaning. From a biological and evolutionary standpoint, there is broad scientific consensus that humans are drawn to certain body shapes because they act as visual cues of health and fertility. Research in evolutionary psychology shows that hip width, fat distribution, and lumbar curvature correlate with reproductive health. A pronounced lower-back curve visually emphasizes the buttocks, and a favorable waist-to-hip ratio is widely perceived as attractive across cultures. The brain isn’t thinking about anatomy or waste. Just as people don’t look at mouths and think about digestion, attraction filters out function and locks onto form. That resonates with me. I’m attracted to butts—the curve, the fullness, the way the lower back opens into flesh. It’s immediate and bodily. I’m especially drawn to very feminine women and their hips and butts. Their embodiment feels like a distilled expression of femininity—grounded, confident, complete. There’s desire there, but also admiration and longing. At the same time, I’m keenly aware that men are attracted to my ass. I feel it in their gaze, in how attention lingers. That awareness shapes how I inhabit my body. As Michel Foucault argues, bodies are never neutral—they are read, eroticized, and positioned within systems of power (Foucault, The History of Sexuality). When my body is desired for a part culturally coded as feminine, I’m not just being wanted—I’m being located as receptive. This is where gender theory becomes personal. I’m a sissy crossdresser. I don’t yet know if I’m trans, and I’ve stopped treating that uncertainty as a problem. What I do know is that my gender has taken shape through repetition, recognition, and power. Judith Butler argues that gender is constituted through repeated acts that solidify into identity over time (Butler, Gender Trouble). When I soften my posture, present femininely, and allow myself to be read in certain ways, I’m not pretending. I’m performing gender into being. My attraction to men is structured around masculinity, dominance, and control. I’m drawn to men grounded in their power. Submission, for me, isn’t weakness—it’s orientation. Yielding clarifies my femininity rather than erasing it. This connects to why attraction to butts often overlaps with interest in anal sexuality. For some, anal sex symbolizes dominance, possession, or control—access to a guarded, vulnerable space. For others, it represents intimacy, trust, and bonding. For many, it’s a mix of both. In heterosexual contexts, it allows penetration without pregnancy; in male-male contexts, it is the primary site through which penetration and possession are symbolically enacted. In every case, the butt becomes a site of power, vulnerability, and meaning. From an embodiment perspective, this makes sense. Maurice Merleau-Ponty argued that the body is not an object we possess but the medium through which we experience the world (Phenomenology of Perception). My body learns who it is by responding—by yielding, being read, and being desired. So yes—we poop through our butts. That’s true. But humans have always been capable of holding multiple truths at once. The same body part can be mundane and symbolic, functional and erotic. What matters isn’t what the body does, but what it means when another human desires it—and how that desire shapes who we become. What are your thoughts?? -Chrissy https://chrissyinsd.blogspot.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy

I hope advertising our personal blogs don't violate policy? While the Hotviber link does work and I have a lot of content there, your search engine may flag it as "unsecure." So as an alternative I do have more adult content on the safer and more trusted Blogspot host. You will have to be a member or register but it is free and it is only to verify your age, that is why it says "Sensitive Content Warning" below. My work isn't for everyone, I know there are users here who don't like uncensored adult content. Just to let you know: it is all free, I am not a pro, and I am looking to actually date too. If you like what little you can see here and want to see more uncensored and more risqué, please go to https://chrissyinsd.blogspot.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy

My First Experience as a Truck Stop Wh-re or Chrissy — A Night on the Road Continued... (Part II) (To see the beginning, Part I, visit my page and scroll down): The bra came next. I hesitated for half a second—long enough for the moment to stretch—then let it slide off. Cool air kissed my skin. His breath caught audibly. He didn’t touch me yet. He didn’t need to. Click. Click. I could feel my body responding to the attention, to the knowledge that this version of me was being captured, saved, proof that Chrissy existed. That I wasn’t just a thought or a secret ritual in front of a mirror. “Beautiful,” he murmured, and I believed him. When the last of the fabric was gone, I stood there fully exposed under the red glow, arms crossed loosely at first, then letting them fall to my sides. Vulnerability pulsed through me—electric, frightening, intoxicating. I felt open, claimed by the moment, by the lens, by his gaze. He stepped closer then. Close enough that I could feel his heat without being touched. One hand lifted my chin, not roughly, just enough to make me meet his eyes. “Look at me,” he said. “Not the camera.” I did. The photos continued, slower now, more deliberate. Less about documenting and more about possession. When he finally set the phone down, my skin felt hypersensitive, like every nerve had been tuned too high. When he guided me back onto the bunk, the vinyl was cold at first, then quickly warmed beneath me. I lay there open to him, knees drawn up, posture unmistakable, my body arranged in a way that made refusal impossible—but refusal wasn’t what I felt. What I felt was permission being taken. The cab groaned softly as he leaned over me, blocking out the low red light, blocking out the rest of the world. His hands settled at my hips and stayed there—anchoring me, claiming the space where my choices narrowed into a single direction. He didn’t hurry. He waited. Long enough that the waiting itself became its own kind of pressure. My breath went shallow. My body answered before my mind could intervene. When he finally moved, the sensation was overwhelming—not sharp, not violent, but consuming. The kind of closeness that demands you make room for it, that insists you soften or break. I felt myself give way in small increments, each one deliberate, each one erasing a little more distance between who I pretend to be and what I was becoming in that moment. He plowed my asspussy over and over....in and out...in and out...in..in...getting deeper each time. He watched my face closely, as if he needed to see exactly where I disappeared. Every sound I made seemed to encourage him, draw him deeper into his own control. I clutched the bedding, holding on to something solid as my thoughts scattered, replaced by a single, relentless awareness of being used with purpose. “Relax,” he said quietly, almost kindly. “I’ve got you.” And I surrendered. Not just my body—my resistance. I let the tension drain out of me and allowed the sensation to take over completely. There was a point where I stopped tracking time, stopped measuring what I was giving and what I was losing. My body responded on its own terms, breaking open in waves that left me shaking, emptied of pretense. I heard him make a sound above me—rough, unfiltered—and knew I’d been brought exactly where he wanted me. I knew he came, he ejaculated, he sprayed his man juice, his sperm, his DNA deep inside me. I could feel it, the warm, sticky liquid clinging to my insides. Afterward, when he pulled me up toward him again, there was no gentleness in the request—just expectation. I recognized it instantly. My knees braced against the seat, my hands guided into place, my mouth following where my thoughts no longer led. I focused on the task, on being useful, on doing it right. There was comfort in that narrow focus. Safety, even. More to cum.... #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

Borrowed these from my MIL, they’re a bit too tight so I will return them and have a rummage through her lingerie drawers and borrow something nicer

Note: While this drive was real, the story is fictional. This is my fantasy. Will it become true one day? I hope so. And maybe I'll run into you at a truck stop? Kisses! -Chrissy My First Experience as a Truck Stop Wh-re or Chrissy — A Night on the Road I’m not out. Not really. Not to my family. Not to the world. Maybe not even fully to myself. By daylight I pass as what people expect: a tall, thin man in his forties, dark hair, dark eyes, quiet, unremarkable. But underneath—always underneath—I carry Chrissy. Smooth skin hidden under denim. Lace and silk where no one is supposed to look. A secret pressed close to my body, warm and constant. I don’t know yet if Chrissy is a role, a mask, or my truest self. I just know I’m not ready to live her openly. The drive from San Diego to Prescott was long and lonely, the kind of drive where your thoughts stretch out across the desert like the road itself. I left late—too late, really—and by the time I pulled into the truck stop it was just after four in the morning. Christmas was only days away. The air was cold. The place was nearly silent. Except for the trucks. Rows and rows of them, idling and dark, their drivers asleep inside. A whole hidden world resting while the rest of America slept. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed. I bought coffee I didn’t really want and a hot dog I didn’t really taste. That’s when I felt it—that familiar sensation on the back of my neck. Being seen. He was older. Weathered. The kind of man whose life is measured in miles and nights like this. His eyes lingered too long. Not crude—curious. Knowing. When I stepped back outside, he followed—but not aggressively. He spoke softly, close enough that his voice stayed between us. “Chrissy,” he said, like it was a question and an answer at the same time. My heart kicked hard in my chest. Fear and thrill braided together. We talked. Quietly. Honestly. About boundaries. About money. About what I was—and wasn’t—willing to do. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. When I followed him to his truck, it was because I chose to. Inside, the cab was dim, warm, insulated from the world. I shed my outer layers slowly, deliberately, revealing what I’d hidden all night. His attention wasn’t violent—it was reverent. Hungry, yes, but controlled. I felt myself settle into Chrissy fully, like slipping into a familiar skin. What happened between us stayed there, contained within the cab and the dark and the hum of the engine. Time stretched and blurred. I was present in my body in a way I rarely allow myself to be. When it ended, I didn’t feel used. I felt… seen. He paid me without haggling. Then something unexpected happened: he didn’t boast, didn’t leer. He simply told a few others—men like him, tired men, lonely men—who understood discretion. I made my own choices again. And again. Not a dozen. Not chaos. Just a handful of quiet encounters, spaced out across the early hours of the morning. Each one brief. Each one negotiated. Each one leaving me with cash folded neatly into my purse and a strange, steady calm settling in my chest. By sunrise, I was exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally. Chrissy had been fully awake all night. And she was tired. Under the Dashboard Lights The cab door closed behind me, sealing us into a private world of low light and humming machinery. The dashboard cast everything in a muted red glow, like we were suspended inside a heartbeat. I could feel it then—how small the space was, how large he felt in it, how nowhere I could go made everything sharper. He reached for his phone almost casually. “Stand right there,” he said. I obeyed. My hands shook just slightly as I slipped off my jacket, then my shirt. I could feel his eyes tracking every inch of me, lingering, memorizing. When I was left in my bra and panties—the ones I’d chosen carefully before the trip, just in case—I felt a rush of heat flood my chest and face. The phone came up. A soft click. Then another. He moved slowly, circling me, telling me to turn, to arch my back, to lift my chin. Each instruction felt like a pull downward, stripping away the version of myself that hides. I wasn’t performing anymore. I was presenting myself. Offering. More to cum.... #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

Evening ladies finally got a bit of time to dress yah 💋

It's Big or Not 🚫

I'm bored, lonely, and horny. Wish i was with a man right now. #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy 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 #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy 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 #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

Good morning my lovelies. Well the dust has settled on another Christmas. My last guests gone and I'm left with a fair bit of tidying up! Just got rid of 11 bags of rubbish and 4 bags of recycling. At least the leftovers are slim pickings. I really rather like the calm of the mid ground between Christmas and new year. Helps me think about myself a bit. Just need to decide weather I get that bright pink plush dressing gown now 😁 xxx

I just got home after being out for a bit 😅 it's 2am and i just wanted to say hey to you guys while i have the chance ☺️ i hope all is well and stay awesome my friends 🤘☺️🤘

Shameless Exhibition 🤩

🤒 Had a lousy Christmas being ill throughout it! I'm still not quite right but needed to dress to cheer myself up a little. A completely dry and solitary Christmas is not recommended! Nor is spending Xmas eve morning and all of Boxing Day up at the hospital! If they had admitted me at least I would have had the company of the nurses and other patients for company, and maybe even got a turkey dinner out of it! But they dealt with me as an out patient! And Boxing Day was murder, sitting in a waiting room from 8.30am until 5pm, just for the Dr to tell me that yes the oral antibiotics were working so no need to admit me and give me stronger ones through an IV! A completely wasted day!

A little bit of me time 👗 had to have my Christmas knickers on though 🥰

It's my sister's birthday today and she wanted me to walk around like this all day long. She said it would be like a gift for her. It's so sweet.

My bigcock daddy that gives to me without question all his cum

I know, for most off you dressing up is fetish, but for me its not only sex (TBO it is 90% but anyway not all). I like feeling femine, it makes me relax. I forget the stresses at work or in personal life. I become her" slutty bich, that lives on my sallary! 😅 Anyway my point is for me the most femine thing is sanitary pads! No other thing makes you more a women than sanitary pads. What do you feel about them? Do you use them? I do. Write in comments about your feellings on the sanitary pads??? 😊😘 love ya ❤️😘

Big hoodie, knee socks and my favourite skirt tonight 😍

Why I love CDs.... For me in particular CDs have a no fuss approach to Sex, we know what we want and we get on with it on every earliest opportunity.... We tend to have fewer excuses to say no... Of course I'm not talking relationships at all, that really is not for me.... Although a local CD would get plenty of commitment from me and I know I would get it back... The words above just about sum me up perfectly, but I do have to admit I am very week and a little bit of a Slut.. Have a look at all my Favourites and anything like that put in front of me will get Extracted and Fed from asap... A smooth cock in Stockings and I'm very week, everything above that cock really does NOT matter, if you spread those legs and ask me to Suck it dry, I will without question.... Sorry I'm like this..... Check out my FAVOURITES here <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/11512300@N05/favorites">www.flickr.com/photos/11512300@N05/favorites</a> Join my GROUP with my Best Pictures and Very Naughty Stories <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>

Hi everyone hope you are having a great day I have a coupke of questions as I am a noob at cross dressing but I feel so comfortable in my female clothes. I have bought fake breasts and gaff pants and now toying with buying a bikini body suit are these a worthwhile investment? And the 2nd question is how bathroom visits are negotiated sorry for the crudeness of topic hope it is OK to ask as don't want to offend 😊

Good morning to all you lovely gurls. Im feeling a bit delicate this morning. Too much wine and food over the last couple of days. Any one else in the same situation.

Hi sweets, I use the name “ShemaleChrissy” because I’m male and deeply identify with femininity and the desire to be female. I haven’t started transitioning yet, so I still look male. I’m also still learning makeup, hair, and styling, so I don’t always present as feminine as I’d like in everyday life. Sometimes I use face filters online to explore and express that feminine fantasy. That said, my body is always my real body, and I always include at least one natural, unfiltered photo. I do that intentionally so I’m not misleading anyone and so people know exactly who they’re talking to. Recently, someone told me I’m “not really a shemale” and should change my username. I’m open to honest feedback, but the way it was delivered was rude and disrespectful, so I blocked them. I welcome fair suggestions and thoughtful discussion, but I don’t tolerate harassment or abuse. So here’s my genuine question, asked in good faith: How would you describe me? Shemale? Sissy? Crossdresser? Something else entirely? I’m still figuring out my identity and language matters to me. If you have thoughts, I’m happy to hear them as long as they’re shared respectfully. Thanks for reading, Kisses, Chrissy 💋 #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

My big day today, I will finally go out as Samantha, only to a gay club but still I'm so excited about this step. YAY will post a pic all dressed up later. xx

I know I'm a bit late, but a merry Christmas to one and all. And if you don't celebrate the 25th, happy Thursday 😁 xxx

Christmas eve on here seems to be the day to strip naked and push you dick in everybodies face. 4 blocked so far this morning I don't exactly find that festive, or a turn on. I don't come on here to see hairy ar5ses and dick. I want to meet and talk to people who enjoy dressing, enjoy the feminity it brings and feel that flashing your bits in public to the world is offensive. Remember this is a social site not a Porn site, why not keep it in your pants before Santa puts you on the naughty list. Oh wait, most of you would enjoy that. I have a fix for that and it involves 2 bricks. Merry Dickmass to the perverts. Merry Christmas to the real people. [Chloe] Merry Christmas Chloe. I hope one of your New Years resolutions is to try to do a better job than this year, before you have to implement age verification.

I was sixteen, maybe seventeen, on that raw December afternoon in the mid-1970s, standing at the back of a small cemetery in southern Manchester. The light was thin and melancholy, the sort that turns everything slightly blue and makes shadows linger too long over the leaning stones. I barely knew the man we were burying, some Uncle twice removed, so the ache in the air never reached me. Grief felt like something that belonged to other people, grown-ups who understood loss. For me, the day was something else entirely, an accidental invitation into a world I hadn’t known I was hungry for. They were everywhere, those women. Mature, composed, dressed in layers of black that seemed to absorb the weak winter sun and give back only a muted gleam. Silk dresses that clung and released with every breath, satin blouses catching stray glints of light, chiffon and voile drifting like smoke whenever the wind found them. Rayon, acetate, fabrics I didn’t even have names for then, but I felt them all the same, the way they moved, the soft sounds they made against one another. They stood in quiet clusters around the grave, gloved hands clasped, heads bowed beneath hats and veils. To them I must have looked like just another awkward boy in a borrowed tie, but inside I was burning with a fascination I couldn’t name and didn’t dare examine too closely. And then there was her. She stood slightly apart, as though even in mourning she needed space. An enormous black satin scarf, far too large, almost theatrical—draped over her shoulders and spilled down her back like spilled ink. Over her face, a sheer chiffon veil, so fine it trembled with every breath. I could smell her from where I stood, carried on the cold air, the sharp bite of Elnette hairspray holding her hair in perfect waves, and beneath it the heavy, amber warmth of Youth Dew. It was the scent of adulthood itself, complicated, slightly dangerous, utterly out of reach. I watched her the entire time. I told myself it was curiosity, nothing more. But even then, in the thick of it, some quieter part of me knew better. There was something about the way these women carried their sorrow, elegant, controlled, yet undeniably physical that stirred a longing I didn’t understand. It wasn’t just desire, though that was certainly part of it. It was deeper: a wish to be close to whatever it was they possessed experience, certainty, the weight of years lived fully. I felt small beside them, unformed, all sharp edges and unspoken questions. They seemed to know secrets I hadn’t even learned to ask about. Later, at the wake, coats and scarves were abandoned in a side room as the women moved on to tea and murmured condolences. I lingered near the pile, heart thudding so hard I was sure someone would notice. No one did. My fingers closed around two pieces: the oversized satin mourning scarf, still holding the warmth of her body, and the delicate chiffon veil. Both carried that same intoxicating blend of Elnette, Youth Dew, and something earthier, the faint salt of skin after hours in the cold. I slipped them inside my coat and left before the guilt could catch up with me. That night, and for many nights through that long winter, I'd ascend up the narrow stairs to my attic bedroom. I’d lock the door, my one small claim to privacy in my parent’s house, draw the curtains and unfold the satin across my pillow. Sometimes I’d press the veil to my face and breathe slowly, letting the scent settle over me like fog. In those quiet hours I began to understand what I’d really taken that day. It wasn’t just fabric. It was a fragment of a life I could only observe from the outside, a life of composure and ritual, of perfumes chosen deliberately and clothes worn with intention. Holding those scarves, I could pretend, for a moment, that some of that poise might rub off on me. That the confusion and restlessness I carried everywhere might quiet, just a little. I never felt truly ashamed of stealing them. In my mind they were abandoned, after all, no longer needed once the performance of grief was over. But more than that, they had become mine in a way they could never have been hers again, totems of a feeling I was only beginning to name. Desire, yes. But also envy. And something closer to reverence. Years later I can still close my eyes and smell it: hairspray, perfume, the faint trace of a woman’s skin on black satin. It takes me straight back to that cemetery, to the boy I was, watching, wanting, trying to understand what it meant to grow into someone capable of wearing mourning like it was made for them. I’m not sure I ever fully did. But those scarves kept me company while I tried.

I finally told my wife that im a bisexual crossdresser she wasn't upset that im a crossdresser she was upset that im bisexual. I told the only thing i do is wank off other cds and give blow jobs never anal sex . We been married for 30 year and she said ive been a good husband and she said its ok just don't tell we when im seeing other cds for fun . My wife doesn't mind me wearing lingerie and clothing its such a turn on know my know my secret 😜

The day you get caught as a big girly x

Merry Christmas!!! And very Happy New Year For all of you!!! Folace Lust Lipsr all who support each other with a smie love and kind word that are espetially so important for stranger girls born with some unusual abilities... LOVE LIGHT AND JOY !!! Lace Lust Lips Dresses Tights Pleasure in hips... Kisses Bon Chance And Lots of Love Misses in dresses And sans ... Happy New Year for all you Kate

Won't be able to post anything in the next few days so... Merry Christmas boys and girls, hope you've been nice but also a little bit naughty this year 💋❤️🎄

Take me! You got my back against the wall! I have nowhere to go! I enjoy looking like a woman. I am too old and too set in my ways to fully #transition, so while I do dress #feminine in private and under my boy clothes, I don't do it in public and I haven't learned how to use makeup and wigs yet. So for now I live my life as a #woman in fantasy, online, using face filters from Snap chat. But t be clear: that is my real body, I am that smooth (I shave weekly), and I do this not to fool people I always show my true self, especially to potential dates. #gurl Thoughts? Kisses! - Chrissy #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

So I'm not looking to write a Christmas No 1. Because I like to bitch about this time of year, About how we never actually help the poor and needy, Instead we line the pockets of the corporations and the greedy So I'm not looking to write a Christmas No 1. And Santa is Red because of Coca Cola. To fill the world with joy, peace and goodwill, could be done, But instead we shop for the overpriced things , nik naks, designer tops or pairs of socks, And then complain because for a day they've closed the shops. So I'm not looking to write a Christmas No 1. And Santa is Red because of Coca Cola. #twinklelittlestar

Anyone here from Birmingham

I thought to give a wet look dress a go. Nice feel on the body but a bit too revealing maybe? What's the verdict? Keep or bin?

I love trying different color combinations 💃🏼💖

I'm in a bit of a 1960s fashion obsession at the minute. If you could've been born - and dressing - in one era, which would you pick? (Pic is what I wish I would have looked like!)

Who doesnt love a big girl?

Took my wife to Manchester airport overnight. Rain and fog was extreme to say the least around ladybower. All i could think about was doing something I've never done before on the way back 😊. Got to near glossop, almost zero visibility so pulled over and got undressed. Just put these thermal tightson, these low heels that i love and my leather jacket. Got in the car and drove a few miles further and got the urge to pull over and walk for a few minutes. I felt liberated for the first time ever and wasn't cold at all?do thumbe up to these tights haha.

This is one of my favorite photos from my last trip to Florida. A little bit of AI photo enhancement, but the real beach I was at and my real body. You can see that my tuck was not perfect. I think my latest daily abs workouts are improving my waist - but you be the judge? Apprecate all comments. Both critiques and complements. 🥰

...and the stimulation led me a bit furhter..

#Sissyslut #Exhibition #Sissylatina 💋🍑🍆🌮 Feliz fin de semana

Ma Eternal Murnin' at Christmas in the Gorbals Tenement I've aye felt a queer pull tae this place—number 142 Balgrayhill Road, a weary auld sandstone tenement up in the Gorbals, wi' its shared stairheid an' that cauld tiled close that smells o' damp washin' an' yesterday's chip fat. The blizzard's ragin' the nicht, Christmas 2025, December 25th turnin' intae Boxin' Day proper—snaw drivin' sideways doon the wynd, howlin' roon the lum pots like a banshee, an' the whole estate blanketed in white, streetlights glowin' fuzzy orange through the flurry. For years, in the quiet o' ma sissy crossdressin' dreams—blethered in late-night internet chats an' hidden fantasies, I've yearned tae cast aff the ordinary an' embrace a wummanly self that's lush, commandin', an' pure voluptuous. The nicht, in this freezin' Scottish winter storm, wi' the wind greetin' doon the close an' snaw pilin' up against the door, that yearnin' finally becomes ma truth. I staun afore the cracked mirror in the back room, the wind rattlin' the single-glazin' windae, transformin' intae Evelina McTavish, the eternal widow o' the tenement. Ma body—mature, morbidly obese, overflowin' wi' soft curves an' generous fullness—is nae langer somethin' tae hide unner baggy joabies; it's tae be celebrated in this private ritual o' surrender, the cauld air bitin' at ma skin as I dress. The goon is aw I dreamed: a strikin' black Victorian murnin' A-line, ordered online an' altered masel', made frae shiny satin that catches the dim bulb light like wet tar. Multiple tiers cascade tae ma ankles, brushin' the lino; lang puffed sleeves hug ma airms, an' the high collar frames ma face wi' stern elegance. Ma satin opera gloves slide up smooth tae ma elbows, matchin' the satin heidscarf that covers ma hair in modest severity. Ower it aw drapes a delicate chiffon veil, flutterin' in the draught frae the ill-fittin' door, soaftenin' ma features intae a haze o' melancholy. As I smooth the folds, feelin' the heavy satin cling tae every abundant inch—the tiers flarin' ower ma wide hips, the bodice cradlin' ma ample bosom, the fabric cauld at first but warmin' frae ma body heat—a wave o' liberation washes ower me, mixin' wi' the smell o' coal smoke frae some neighbour's fire. Nae langer the secret sissy; I'm Evelina, a gothic matron o' sorrow an' quiet power, murnin' loves lost, yet revelin' in ma femininity. Wi' slow steps the goon rustlin' like whispers doon the narrow close stair I descend the creakin' concrete steps, cauld unner ma feet even through slippers, the snaw driftin' in unner the outer door. Ma faithful companion, a big black corbie I cry Poe (he's been comin' tae the back court for scraps for donkeys), flaps in through the open windae an' perches on ma gloved shoulder, his feathers iced an' cauld against ma neck. I step oot intae the estate's street, the blizzard whippin' snaw intae ma veil, stingin' ma cheeks, the ground crunchin' unnerfoot, distant bagpipes wailin' frae some hoose party, mixin' wi' the wind's roar. The abandoned swing park's chains creak in the gale; fairy lights frae a few windaes blink through the snaw. Here, unner the howlin' storm, I walk slow atween the bins an' parked motors, ma veil dancin' wild. Poe lifts aff, circlin' like a dark guardian afore settlin' back. In this cauld, sacred nicht—ma ain vigil—I whisper vows tae masel', hummin' a bit o' "Missletoe n' whine" unner ma breath, promisin' nae mair hidin'. Deeper intae the estate I drift, past identical closes an' satellite dishes buried in snaw, the satin shimmerin' faint unner streetlights, tiers heavy wi' meltin' flakes. I feel powerful, sensual, complete—ma morbidly obese form a throne o' gothic beauty in this freezin' Scottish nicht. As the bells approach midnight, faint through the storm, I return tae the tenement. Poe caws saft, like a private toast. Evelina McTavish'll bide here forever, in the heart o' this blizzard an' hidden desire. An' deep in ma soul, the sissy dreams'll whisper on, eternal as the corbie's cry. Never mair wull I hide, hen. No' even in this ragin' winter. Happy Christmas tae me.

#exhibitionist #sissy #crossdresser