Morning all, you all looking as stunning as always. Am so jealous.

Question out there want a new pair of heels looking at Oxford heels does anybody own a pair and sizing ? Are they small or larger on size fit x thank you

well off to oxford city tomorrow to meet up with a cd friend. have been messaging for ages but never met. unfortunately we won't be dressed (well maybe something underneath) but be good to meet up and chat on the subject we all like to talk about. Do some shopping too. Maybe next meet we'll dress properly. I'm working on more everyday clothes unlike the ones in my profile.

Looking for someone to **** me for the first time

Thinking about paying for the subscription on here. I notice it goes through PayPal. Is it anonymous? Anyone advise me please?

Got my account back by shamefully asking others to help with the age verification. It kept fking telling me i didn't meet the limitation, judged by my face. I'm already 21, and how much do you want an Asian sissy to look like an adult.Kept my body caged for 20 minutes doing fking nothing, I'm now lost desire

stockings, heels and lace...

Recap of how my day went as a model
Always looking stunning

If Patti wears this under her work clothes, what do you think she will be thinking about all day ?

I'm gonna have a great day today it's a bank holiday and my wife is working so I can be a horny cross-dresser today

Home alone tonight thinking about meeting someone, but know you cant on here

I am sixty-five years old, and there are mornings when my bones creak like old floorboards, when the mirror offers me a face that has known too many winters. But there is also satin.

It begins there, always.

Not with the clothes people expect, not dresses or heels or anything loud, but with the quiet, shimmering certainty of a headscarf unfolded across my lap. Oversized. Generous. A full square of light, as if someone had captured a piece of dawn and stitched its edges.

I keep them in a pine ottoman chest at the foot of my bed. When I lift the lid, the faint scent of pine wood and time rises, mingling with the cool, whispering smoothness of fabric. They are stacked carefully: florals, paisleys, deep jewel tones, pale creams, even one the colour of storm clouds just before rain. Some are silk satin, impossibly soft, almost liquid. Others are polyester blends still glossy, still kind to the touch, but sturdier, as if meant for endurance.

I tell myself it began for practical reasons. Hair protection, I say. Friction reduction. At my age, what hair remains deserves gentleness. And it’s true the satin glides where cotton drags, it soothes where wool irritates. At night, when I wrap my head, I sleep more peacefully, my scalp free from the tug and dryness that used to wake me.

But that is only the surface of it.

The truth is, when I lift one of those oversized scarves sometimes a full 130 centimeters across it feels like lifting a veil between lives.

I was not always honest about who I was. For decades, I wore what was expected, spoke in the tones expected, moved through the world like a man following a script written long before I was born. There is a heaviness to that kind of living. It settles into your shoulders, your spine, your breath.

The first time I wrapped a satin headscarf around my head, I did it clumsily. I had watched videos, read guides. Fold into a triangle, they said. Bring the corners forward, tie at the nape or under the chin. Smooth the edges. Adjust.

I remember the colour deep burgundy, with a faint floral pattern that caught the light. When I tied it, the fabric slipped against itself with a soft hush, like a secret being kept.

And then I looked in the mirror.

I did not see a caricature. I did not see something absurd or theatrical. I saw softness. I saw a version of myself that had been waiting, patiently, beneath years of denial. The scarf framed my face, softened the lines, held me together in a way nothing else ever had.

Now, it is ritual.

In the mornings, I choose carefully. If I am staying in, I might select something large and enveloping a square so wide it can drape over my shoulders, falling like a shawl. Sometimes I wrap it turban style, tucking the ends neatly, letting the fabric build a quiet crown around my head. Other times, I let it hang loose, a triangle tied under my chin, like something out of an old photograph.

When I go out rarely, but more often than I used to, I choose patterns that feel like companions rather than disguises. A muted paisley. A soft, vintage floral. Nothing too bold, but never apologetic.

People look, of course. Some with curiosity, some with confusion. A few with kindness. I have learned to endure the rest. At sixty five, you realize that most people are too occupied with their own reflections to truly see yours.

At home, the scarves become more than adornment. They are utility, yes sleep caps, shoulder wraps, even something to tie around a bag handle for a touch of colour. But they are also comfort. When I feel the weight of years pressing too hard, I wrap one around my shoulders and sit by the window.

The satin catches the light differently at every hour. Morning makes it glow. Afternoon sharpens its sheen. Evening turns it into something softer, almost like memory.

Sometimes I run the fabric between my fingers, back and forth, feeling its smooth resistance, the way it refuses to snag or cling. It reminds me that gentleness can be strong. That something soft can endure.

I have more than I need. I know that. A drawer full, a chest full, a small collection that borders on obsession. There are handmade ones, with careful stitching at the edges. Reversible ones, satin on both sides, offering two moods in one piece. Silk feel ones that mimic luxury so well it hardly matters that they are not the real thing.

Each has a story, or at least a feeling attached to it. This one for sleepless nights. That one for quiet afternoons. Another for the rare courage of stepping outside as I am.

I do not pretend that a headscarf changes everything. The world is still the world. My body is still heavy, my steps still slow, my past still filled with compromises I cannot undo.

But when I tie that satin around my head, something aligns.

The fabric smooths not just my hair, but something deeper something that has always been frayed. It holds me, gently but firmly, in a shape that feels right.

And for a little while, that is enough.

Body stockings or lingerie ? What do you beautiful girls think ?

When I go out, I spend a lot of time looking at all the pretty outfits i wish I could wear, and regret not being more confident when I was younger.

New skirt from Amazon, looking for a suitable top to go with it

Hi, lately I have a fetish for making clothes out of bin bags, just love how they feel and look, would love to know what you think

Red with white petticoats on and I feel super horny x with the petticoats swishing on my stock clad legs and the suspenders are pulling in my stocking x
#skirt #petticoats #stockings #suspenders #highheels

Just a little Saturday dress up x
#skirt #petticoat #stockings #suspenders #highheels

Looking like a wet day outdoors, So Im going to be indoors cleaning, but, what to wear. I want to enjoy it. Keep my little clitty **** caged I think, I was a bit naughty this morning in bed. SHower and toys stuck to the wall later, my favourite part, backing onto them time and time again. That will get me through the cleaning, before going shopping wearing nothing under my shorts, maybe even a quiet layby on the way back home. My day planned . Oh, must shave as well, need to be smooth all over.

I miss my collection need 2 start stocking up again

Its raining, Im going shopping in shorts and no pants or anything. I want to come back and have some fun time. Hope to get more pictures posted as well. I wopuld love some suggestions if anbody wants anything. Looking forward to getting back home.

Getting very excited thinking about everyone looking at my panties

Any bbc looking?

A little dress up in my outfit feeling naughty x
#skirt #petticoat #stockings #suspenders #highheels

I had bought this lingerie set that also came with those blue fishnet stockings that I think is pretty sexy. I love the colour. But unfortunately, I had lost those rubber garter clips somewhere.

Stockings and suspenders on, panty pad changed, off I go xx

put on some leggings over tights and a bra and am popping out. Will change into stockings and suspenders for this afternoon's adventure. Mistre ss has found me a new trainer.

Been off for a while, not feeling so. Today, Im off out walking, fresh air, shorts, commando, then coming back for some dressing up. In the mnood today, little clitty is in the mood also

Morning girls, so hot waking up like this

Good evening girls thak goodness my wife working nights i can be my real self for 12 hours .

"To be honest, I’ve hit a breaking point and finally quit my job. I’m feeling pretty rough right now, but I found these lyrics that perfectly capture why I had to get out. It’s dark, it’s raw, and it’s exactly how I’ve been feeling lately:"

One gulp of coffee, then I sprint to the station,
Dive into the Tube, yawn’s a constant sensation.
I bent over backwards to get here on time,
So hello, hello… it’s the usual crime.
Well, hello to you all and your fucking tired faces!

A sip of some tea, smoke breaks with the herd,
You’re back here again, and it’s frankly absurd.
I don’t smile at strangers, I’ve nothing to say,
I’ve saved all my smiles for you lot today.
Yeah, hello to you all and your fucking tired faces!

When I’ve had quite enough and I’m ready to retch,
I’ll quit this shit job, every miserable stretch.
I’ll think of you all on a grey, rainy day,
How I tore out my hair just to come play the game,
Just to get here and see you...
Well, hello to you all and your fucking tired faces!

I’ll sing of new colleagues like a bird in the spring,
"I'm so glad to be here!" is the song I will sing.
You’re better than them, you’re a different race —
You’re lovely, you’re cool, you’re all over the place...
At least for right now — before you’re just fucking tired faces!

New stockings too

What would be on my mind...
Could it be me that is fucked up my sweet tight CuntAss and dribbling everything full of Sweet She-Seed and later me sticking my big ass She-**** in-between some Girlish buns and fucking till she cums then Sucking her completely dry...
No it is not...
I wished it was not so but it always is like that .

Pantyhose makes our legs look so much more prettier but the way they feel when moving around and walking, if you have never experienced this feeling it is the most girly feeling ever, Mrs. Patti loves the feeling and the look, so if you agree with me send pictures of your beautiful legs

This would so be me in the dress that i love so much,panicking so much

I've just Done a new set today on Flickr, it's Black Stocking Tights, Black Basque and Stilettos.... If anyone would like to see one I can msg it you... No underwear sorry 🩷

looking for young cross dresser
#

It's rock chic night tonight. Stockings over smooth legs feels good (another first for me tonight). PS sorry for the trashy derrier shot, I couldn't resist

Oh buggery bollocks... Fire at Pink Punters in Bletchley, looks like the whole roof's gone - no injuries as everyone escaped in a timely and calm fashion, but allegedly there's CCTV footage of someone lurking above where it started, as it started... 22 years of LGBTQ+ history gone in a night

First stockings...

Yes Kate was only pantyhose girl... but it was a nice time at work...

Hot body
Seeking for love

Well! I'm looking around there! What's happening?

Taking a break and enjoying some sun on the legs.

Any lonely cd looking to make long turn friends.
Please get in touch.

Feeling really kinky this morning dressed up x x
#latexskirt #lacepetticoat #stockings #suspenders #highheels

I dreamt this happened to me and i woke up thinking oh my imagine this really happened to me,i don't know how i would react

Pretty looking good

Luv the feel of the cool night air on my tits and the sound of my heels clicking on the tiles!

Click‑click, curtain call, pavement runway — turn the volume up and let these heels do the talking. Red dress swaying, glossy heels tapping a rhythm that turned the pavement into my encore. If confidence had a soundtrack, this is it — loud, proud, and unapologetically dramatic. Turn the volume up and feel every step.

Oh dear, how sad, never mind... Catherinejmiles appears to have looked at my profile and then blocked me, was it because i asked whose pictures they were that it was posting? Was it because i said that Telegram, Zangi were the favourites of fat, sweaty, blokes in Nigerian Internet cafes? Because i call out scammers and betwixt-misters-and-mattresses? Who knows...

Saves me the effort of blocking it... Result!