• At 65, I've spent decades as a transvestite sissy crossdresser, keeping my feminine side tucked away like a guilty secret for most of my life. Skirts, stockings, heels, and lacy things brought me a private thrill and a soft kind of peace, but they also came with shame and isolation. Then volunteering stepped in first in drab male clothes at a local charity shop and quietly cracked the door open to something more. Over time, the idea of exploring crossdressing while volunteering became a gentle, thrilling possibility that blended my two worlds: giving back to the community while letting my sissy self breathe a little in public. Crossdressing and volunteering intersect in beautiful, sometimes nerve wracking ways. Many of us in the crossdressing community already love charity shops and thrift stores they're treasure troves for affordable feminine clothes, vintage dresses, silky blouses, and heels that fit just right without breaking the bank. Shopping there "en drab" (in male presentation) is common and relatively low-pressure; staff rarely bat an eye at a man browsing the women's section, especially if you're polite and purposeful. But taking the next step volunteering while presenting as your feminine self feels like leveling up. It turns the shop into a stage where you can practice being seen, contribute meaningfully, and feel the quiet joy of service wrapped in the fabric that makes you feel most alive. Sorting donations, steaming garments, arranging displays tasks that already feel creative and domestic become even more satisfying when you're doing them in a skirt or blouse that matches the very items on the rails. There's a special little rush when you handle a pretty dress that might have been perfect for your own collection, knowing it's going to help someone else while you get to embody your softer side in a purposeful setting. For many of us older sissies, volunteering offers a gentle way to ease into public expression without the intensity of a full "night out." Charity shops tend to attract kind, community minded people older volunteers, mums, young folks gaining experience, and all sorts in between. The environment is often forgiving and focused on the work rather than on you. Conversations flow naturally over pricing or styling, and you can let your feminine mannerisms show a bit more without forcing anything. It builds confidence the same way my early drab shifts did: through small interactions, teamwork, and the satisfaction of helping keep good clothes out of landfill while raising funds for worthy causes. Of course, it's not without its layers. Some days you might worry about being read, or about awkward questions, or simply about whether the team will accept you. Experiences vary some places are wonderfully inclusive, especially those with ties to causes or progressive areas, while others might feel more traditional. Starting small helps: perhaps a short shift, a subtle feminine touch, nail polish, a unisex but feminine top, or even volunteering at events or organizations where crossdressing is more normalized. I've heard of crossdressers volunteering at community fundraisers, helping at pride related drives, or even assisting in thrift based events where dressing up adds to the fun and visibility. The mental health side is profound. Volunteering already combats loneliness, builds purpose, teaches skills, and creates real connections benefits that feel amplified when you're expressing your authentic self. For a sissy crossdresser like me, it bridges the gap between private indulgence and public living. That hidden part of me stops feeling like a shameful secret and starts feeling like a valid contribution to the world. The social aspect eases isolation in a way therapy alone never quite could; you're valued for your helpfulness, your eye for display, your patience with customers. And yes, there's that extra layer of thrill spotting a gorgeous bargain while wearing something pretty yourself, or feeling the swish of a skirt as you move between racks. Looking back, exploring crossdressing in volunteering has been one of the most rewarding paths for many of us. It doesn't demand you "come out" dramatically; it lets you integrate gradually, at your own pace. Some stay fully en femme for shifts and find warm acceptance. Others mix presentations or keep it subtle. Either way, it fosters growth: more confidence, better social skills, a deeper sense of purpose, and often a surprising amount of quiet support from people who simply see a kind volunteer doing good work. If you're a fellow crossdresser reading this whether you're 25 or 75 consider it. Start by shopping at charity shops to build familiarity, then explore volunteering opportunities. Talk to managers openly if it feels right; many are pragmatic and welcoming when you frame it as wanting to contribute.
    At 65, I've spent decades as a transvestite sissy crossdresser, keeping my feminine side tucked away like a guilty secret for most of my life. Skirts, stockings, heels, and lacy things brought me a private thrill and a soft kind of peace, but they also came with shame and isolation. Then volunteering stepped in first in drab male clothes at a local charity shop and quietly cracked the door open to something more. Over time, the idea of exploring crossdressing while volunteering became a gentle, thrilling possibility that blended my two worlds: giving back to the community while letting my sissy self breathe a little in public. Crossdressing and volunteering intersect in beautiful, sometimes nerve wracking ways. Many of us in the crossdressing community already love charity shops and thrift stores they're treasure troves for affordable feminine clothes, vintage dresses, silky blouses, and heels that fit just right without breaking the bank. Shopping there "en drab" (in male presentation) is common and relatively low-pressure; staff rarely bat an eye at a man browsing the women's section, especially if you're polite and purposeful. But taking the next step volunteering while presenting as your feminine self feels like leveling up. It turns the shop into a stage where you can practice being seen, contribute meaningfully, and feel the quiet joy of service wrapped in the fabric that makes you feel most alive. Sorting donations, steaming garments, arranging displays tasks that already feel creative and domestic become even more satisfying when you're doing them in a skirt or blouse that matches the very items on the rails. There's a special little rush when you handle a pretty dress that might have been perfect for your own collection, knowing it's going to help someone else while you get to embody your softer side in a purposeful setting. For many of us older sissies, volunteering offers a gentle way to ease into public expression without the intensity of a full "night out." Charity shops tend to attract kind, community minded people older volunteers, mums, young folks gaining experience, and all sorts in between. The environment is often forgiving and focused on the work rather than on you. Conversations flow naturally over pricing or styling, and you can let your feminine mannerisms show a bit more without forcing anything. It builds confidence the same way my early drab shifts did: through small interactions, teamwork, and the satisfaction of helping keep good clothes out of landfill while raising funds for worthy causes. Of course, it's not without its layers. Some days you might worry about being read, or about awkward questions, or simply about whether the team will accept you. Experiences vary some places are wonderfully inclusive, especially those with ties to causes or progressive areas, while others might feel more traditional. Starting small helps: perhaps a short shift, a subtle feminine touch, nail polish, a unisex but feminine top, or even volunteering at events or organizations where crossdressing is more normalized. I've heard of crossdressers volunteering at community fundraisers, helping at pride related drives, or even assisting in thrift based events where dressing up adds to the fun and visibility. The mental health side is profound. Volunteering already combats loneliness, builds purpose, teaches skills, and creates real connections benefits that feel amplified when you're expressing your authentic self. For a sissy crossdresser like me, it bridges the gap between private indulgence and public living. That hidden part of me stops feeling like a shameful secret and starts feeling like a valid contribution to the world. The social aspect eases isolation in a way therapy alone never quite could; you're valued for your helpfulness, your eye for display, your patience with customers. And yes, there's that extra layer of thrill spotting a gorgeous bargain while wearing something pretty yourself, or feeling the swish of a skirt as you move between racks. Looking back, exploring crossdressing in volunteering has been one of the most rewarding paths for many of us. It doesn't demand you "come out" dramatically; it lets you integrate gradually, at your own pace. Some stay fully en femme for shifts and find warm acceptance. Others mix presentations or keep it subtle. Either way, it fosters growth: more confidence, better social skills, a deeper sense of purpose, and often a surprising amount of quiet support from people who simply see a kind volunteer doing good work. If you're a fellow crossdresser reading this whether you're 25 or 75 consider it. Start by shopping at charity shops to build familiarity, then explore volunteering opportunities. Talk to managers openly if it feels right; many are pragmatic and welcoming when you frame it as wanting to contribute.
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  • I railed my dildo last night ! Oh my have a sore bottom but nice sore as it was my small one x
    #pleatedskirt #stockings #suspenders #highheels #heellocks
    I railed my dildo last night ! Oh my have a sore bottom but nice sore as it was my small one x #pleatedskirt #stockings #suspenders #highheels #heellocks
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  • ((Feel Free to Share if you like 🩷))
    No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less.

    Why do I love Co ck......
    This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ...
    Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth.
    The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head.
    The taste of a clean **** is amazing.
    The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on
    The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy...
    Damn I love them so much ....

    If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and
    Send them my way
    ------------------------------------------------------------
    Further Slutty Reading

    As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up.
    Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things.
    I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely,
    I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain
    Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do.
    So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie.
    Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck.
    So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a **** I WILL use.
    That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts...
    Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me.
    The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so...
    My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts...
    I get asked, but I wanted you to **** my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that...
    I get asked, But I wanted to **** your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts.
    You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it
    You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste...
    Now you know..


    All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    ((Feel Free to Share if you like 🩷)) No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less. Why do I love Co ck...... This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ... Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth. The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head. The taste of a clean cock is amazing. The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy... Damn I love them so much .... If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and Send them my way 😉 ------------------------------------------------------------ Further Slutty Reading As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up. Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things. I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely, I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do. So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie. Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck. So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a Cock I WILL use. That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts... Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me. The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so... My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts... I get asked, but I wanted you to Fuck my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that... I get asked, But I wanted to Fuck your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts. You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste... Now you know.. All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    No Ridiculous FaceApp, Snapchat Filters, Ai Face/Body Fake pics, always Smooth Shaven.
    "Original in the CD Stories Group Chat"
    --------------------
    All my Very Naughty Pictures here xxx
    https://www.flickr.com/people/11512300@N05/
    Love
    Yay
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    1 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 7KB Ansichten
  • Real life......(small violins are optional!)

    Applogies to friends i never have time for, i live in a small house and never can dip in and out like i use to with age verification. (bit harder to hide a laptop!)

    Real life....

    Dont have lots of money so never can buy the lovely clothes and lingerie i want. Charity shops and bins for me!

    Real life....

    Love to try make up but never have propere Nicky time.

    Real life......

    Spend the first 10 mins on this site reporting people showing there cocktail sticks. Fine if youve flirty and chatty in DM's but you wouldnt just show it in "Real life" you'd get arrested.

    Real life.....

    I love to dress it makes me happy and if people want to come along for the ride then that makes me happy too

    Love to those that need it x

    Gym wear next!!
    Real life......(small violins are optional!) Applogies to friends i never have time for, i live in a small house and never can dip in and out like i use to with age verification. (bit harder to hide a laptop!) Real life.... Dont have lots of money so never can buy the lovely clothes and lingerie i want. Charity shops and bins for me! Real life.... Love to try make up but never have propere Nicky time. Real life...... Spend the first 10 mins on this site reporting people showing there cocktail sticks. Fine if youve flirty and chatty in DM's but you wouldnt just show it in "Real life" you'd get arrested. Real life..... I love to dress it makes me happy and if people want to come along for the ride then that makes me happy too Love to those that need it x Gym wear next!!
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    14 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4KB Ansichten
  • ((Feel Free to Share if you like 🩷))
    No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less.

    Why do I love Co ck......
    This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ...
    Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth.
    The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head.
    The taste of a clean **** is amazing.
    The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on
    The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy...
    Damn I love them so much ....

    If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and
    Send them my way
    ------------------------------------------------------------
    Further Slutty Reading

    As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up.
    Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things.
    I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely,
    I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain
    Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do.
    So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie.
    Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck.
    So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a **** I WILL use.
    That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts...
    Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me.
    The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so...
    My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts...
    I get asked, but I wanted you to **** my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that...
    I get asked, But I wanted to **** your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts.
    You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it
    You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste...
    Now you know..


    All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    ((Feel Free to Share if you like 🩷)) No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less. Why do I love Co ck...... This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ... Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth. The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head. The taste of a clean cock is amazing. The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy... Damn I love them so much .... If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and Send them my way 😉 ------------------------------------------------------------ Further Slutty Reading As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up. Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things. I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely, I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do. So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie. Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck. So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a Cock I WILL use. That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts... Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me. The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so... My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts... I get asked, but I wanted you to Fuck my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that... I get asked, But I wanted to Fuck your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts. You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste... Now you know.. All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    Love
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    7
    2 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 7KB Ansichten
  • I change my profile pic and some jackass sends me a pic of his embarrassingly small baby smurf dick after saying hi.. wtf man.. if i wanted a vienna sausage I'd buy some at the fucking store.. probably smells like six year old ranch dressing and moldy fritos that sat next to a dollar store tin of sardines and shit.. well, at least he said hi first.. that's more than what most creepers do.. that's something I guess.. 🤷🏼‍♀️
    I change my profile pic and some jackass sends me a pic of his embarrassingly small baby smurf dick after saying hi.. wtf man.. 👿👿 if i wanted a vienna sausage I'd buy some at the fucking store.. probably smells like six year old ranch dressing and moldy fritos that sat next to a dollar store tin of sardines and shit.. well, at least he said hi first.. that's more than what most creepers do.. that's something I guess.. 😅🤷🏼‍♀️
    Haha
    Love
    10
    8 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3KB Ansichten
  • A silver cut

    I ve made
    This silver shade
    I ve made
    This lesbi cut...
    Am I attractive more?
    You wish retreate
    Not f...k?
    Im lost
    My breasts are small
    That s good for lesbi girl
    My voice is not to high
    But not so manly wild
    But body....
    Is too soft
    Too feminine
    Too gentle
    What could
    I do with soul
    My Girly soul
    Trembles...
    I ve made my lashes
    Small
    I shadowed pink my
    Eyes.
    My lips are waiting kiss
    Of girl...
    Girl in disgise...

    My lips are waiting
    For your kiss
    I know trembling taste
    I wish to meet you
    Magic Miss
    Who will seduce my lace...
    Who knows where
    Touch me right
    Bring pleasure
    Lust and fire
    Who cuddles simply
    Girl to Girl
    And grows my admire...
    I want forget
    My hide as boy
    I wish you understand
    I wish orgasm
    Orgasm of girl
    And not for one night stand...
    I want you open me
    My dress will fall for you in night...
    My Darling lead me to confess
    With you in Paradise ...
    A silver cut I ve made This silver shade I ve made This lesbi cut... Am I attractive more? You wish retreate Not f...k? Im lost My breasts are small That s good for lesbi girl My voice is not to high But not so manly wild But body.... Is too soft Too feminine Too gentle What could I do with soul My Girly soul Trembles... I ve made my lashes Small I shadowed pink my Eyes. My lips are waiting kiss Of girl... Girl in disgise... My lips are waiting For your kiss I know trembling taste I wish to meet you Magic Miss Who will seduce my lace... Who knows where Touch me right Bring pleasure Lust and fire Who cuddles simply Girl to Girl And grows my admire... I want forget My hide as boy I wish you understand I wish orgasm Orgasm of girl And not for one night stand... I want you open me My dress will fall for you in night... My Darling lead me to confess With you in Paradise ...
    Love
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    0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5KB Ansichten
  • Bought another pair of shoes from Op Shop! A little on the small size but works well with my dress. Heels are pretty good also $6 not a bad purchase
    Bought another pair of shoes from Op Shop! A little on the small size but works well with my dress. Heels 👠 are pretty good also 😘 $6 not a bad purchase 💋
    Love
    Like
    6
    9 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2KB Ansichten
  • A small set from yesterday.
    Not chasing perfection here. Just sharing where I’m at right now.
    Confidence looks different depending on the day.

    #crossdresser
    #genderexpression
    #femmeenergy
    #softconfidence
    #selfexpression
    #quietmoments
    #personal
    #lgbtq
    A small set from yesterday. Not chasing perfection here. Just sharing where I’m at right now. Confidence looks different depending on the day. #crossdresser #genderexpression #femmeenergy #softconfidence #selfexpression #quietmoments #personal #lgbtq
    Love
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    Wow
    20
    1 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8KB Ansichten
  • Hairy legs and heels 3 sizes too small……xx
    Hairy legs and heels 3 sizes too small……xx
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    Love
    3
    1 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5KB Ansichten
  • I remember my first date with a man. It happened many years ago in May 2011.We arranged the meet through the website for crossdressers/transvestites and their admirers where we both had profiles.He lived in Slough (UK) where he lived alone after his divorce.I was both extremely nervous and excited at the thought that I would be with a man in the very intimate way. I hardly could sleep at night thinking all the time what to wear,what sort of makeup to put on. I know that men love stockings and heels so I took my best pair of ff stockings and heels with me. I also packed my best pencil dress. He picked me at the station in Slough and we went to his place.I felt I was shaking inside with excitement. He took me to his bedroom where I changed my clothes whilst he excused himself.I put on some red lipstick and mascara and my bob black wig. He came back completely naked. My heart started beating like crazy when he approached me and he touched my small clit through the fabric of my lace panties. Gosh, I thought to myself "yess its going to happen".He helped me to pulled down my panties and I started walking around dressed only in a black bullet bra,black stocking with matching supender belt and 6 inches heels. I heard him gasping and I noticed that his **** started to glister.He approached me and grabbed me from behind and started kissing my neck and I turned around and he forced his tongue into my mouth and I didn't resist it. It was so exciting being kissed by a man.He was a good kisser.Also he started rubbing his penis against mine whilst we were kissing.Strangely I was thinking about his wife he had divorced recently so I thought to myself " was the same way he kissed his wife as he's kissing me now".And after that we went to bed together....
    I remember my first date with a man. It happened many years ago in May 2011.We arranged the meet through the website for crossdressers/transvestites and their admirers where we both had profiles.He lived in Slough (UK) where he lived alone after his divorce.I was both extremely nervous and excited at the thought that I would be with a man in the very intimate way. I hardly could sleep at night thinking all the time what to wear,what sort of makeup to put on. I know that men love stockings and heels so I took my best pair of ff stockings and heels with me. I also packed my best pencil dress. He picked me at the station in Slough and we went to his place.I felt I was shaking inside with excitement. He took me to his bedroom where I changed my clothes whilst he excused himself.I put on some red lipstick and mascara and my bob black wig. He came back completely naked. My heart started beating like crazy when he approached me and he touched my small clit through the fabric of my lace panties. Gosh, I thought to myself "yess its going to happen".He helped me to pulled down my panties and I started walking around dressed only in a black bullet bra,black stocking with matching supender belt and 6 inches heels. I heard him gasping and I noticed that his cock started to glister.He approached me and grabbed me from behind and started kissing my neck and I turned around and he forced his tongue into my mouth and I didn't resist it. It was so exciting being kissed by a man.He was a good kisser.Also he started rubbing his penis against mine whilst we were kissing.Strangely I was thinking about his wife he had divorced recently so I thought to myself " was the same way he kissed his wife as he's kissing me now".And after that we went to bed together....
    Love
    Like
    Yay
    Wow
    17
    6 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 11KB Ansichten
  • Gray coat was not very warm, too small, but nice for spring to go....
    Gray coat was not very warm, too small, but nice for spring to go....
    Love
    Like
    Haha
    14
    1 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2KB Ansichten
  • Im a big city girl living in a small town, good morning ladies
    Im a big city girl living in a small town, good morning ladies
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    21
    5 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4KB Ansichten
  • No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less.
    Why do I love Co ck......
    This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ...
    Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth.
    The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head.
    The taste of a clean **** is amazing.
    The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on
    The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy...
    Damn I love them so much ....

    If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and
    Send them my way
    ------------------------------------------------------------
    Further Slutty Reading

    As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up.
    Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things.
    I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely,
    I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain
    Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do.
    So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie.
    Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck.
    So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a **** I WILL use.
    That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts...
    Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me.
    The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so...
    My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts...
    I get asked, but I wanted you to **** my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that...
    I get asked, But I wanted to **** your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts.
    You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it
    You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste...
    Now you know..


    All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see is me and mine. Nothing more or less. Why do I love Co ck...... This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ... Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth. The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head. The taste of a clean cock is amazing. The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy... Damn I love them so much .... If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and Send them my way 😉 ------------------------------------------------------------ Further Slutty Reading As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up. Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things. I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely, I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do. So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie. Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck. So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a Cock I WILL use. That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts... Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me. The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so... My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts... I get asked, but I wanted you to Fuck my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that... I get asked, But I wanted to Fuck your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts. You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste... Now you know.. All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    Love
    6
    3 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8KB Ansichten
  • No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see it me and mine. Nothing more or less.

    Why do I love Co ck

    This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ...
    Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth.
    The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head.
    The taste of a clean **** is amazing.
    The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on
    The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy...
    Damn I love them so much ....

    If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and
    Send them my way
    ------------------------------------------------------------
    Further Slutty Reading

    As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up.
    Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things.
    I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely,
    I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain
    Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do.
    So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie.
    Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck.
    So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a **** I WILL use.
    That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts...
    Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me.
    The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so...
    My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts...
    I get asked, but I wanted you to **** my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that...
    I get asked, But I wanted to **** your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts.
    You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it
    You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste...
    Now you know..


    All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    No Ai or Fake Pictures, What you see it me and mine. Nothing more or less. Why do I love Co ck This is a good question and I guess it's personal to me ... Co ck that has the head fully showing to me look amazing, small medium or large just look incredible and if Smooth Shaven and in Stockings or Holdups then I'm Week and I must have them in my mouth. The way the skin behind the head moves with your lips, the feel of the rough edge of the Head. The taste of a clean cock is amazing. The way it shows you it enjoys what you started by getting hard, what a turn on The best thing of all is how after all this fun sucking and playing it rewards you again with the most amazing Pre Cum then followed by a juicy mouth full of Cum for me to Swallow and enjoy... Damn I love them so much .... If you are local to Derby or Nottingham then get in touch, get those Co ck Photos and Send them my way 😉 ------------------------------------------------------------ Further Slutty Reading As someone that on the odd occasion meets other CDs, I think it is important to know how I feel about you if we meet up. Well it's very important to understand before we meet a few things. I'm meeting you for my own pleasure entirely, I'm not interested in you looking like a Female entirely... Let me explain Before we got to the meeting point we would have chatted extensively about it, and swapped Pics as you do. So now we know I'm only interested in your Co ck, but only Smooth Co ck and in Lingerie. Unfortunately I DON'T do beards, not on my Co ck. So now we know, You need to be Smooth, in Lingerie and have a Cock I WILL use. That means I will be Sucking that Co ck Dry and Swallowing the Content, No Ifs, No Buts... Now the next thing is what you may want me to do or of course do to me. The 2 rules I have will have been discussed with you before now anyway so... My Co ck 'WILL' be Emptied and 'WILL' be Swallowed by You, No Ifs, No Buts... I get asked, but I wanted you to Fuck my Ass, that's fine but the rule above still applies so remember that... I get asked, But I wanted to Fuck your Ass, well again that's fine but you WILL Cum in my mouth and Feed me, No Ifs, No Buts. You are a Toy for my pleasure.... That's it You may become a friend and we may meet very regular, but everything above ALWAYS stays the same....Never Ever any Mess or Waste... Now you know.. All my best pictures and Stories in one (FREE) Private Group <a href="https://www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/">www.flickr.com/groups/14871084@N25/</a>
    Love
    Yay
    5
    2 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 7KB Ansichten
  • Not happy, had to report another member for harassment today, for trying to discredit me, its no secret that some of my pictures are AI , however its my face feminined, a lot of us wear masks on here, some wear silicon masks some wear makeup two hide the face, I hide behind my AI image because I am not ready to show the world who I am, my wife and daughter know anout my cross dressing its created a mountain of problems more with my wife than my daughter, I almost have a non existent relationship with my wife now, two people know of me as Zara outside of here, however there are members on here I have seen out and about while I am the male version of me, I live in a very small town where a lot of people know each other being found out can destroy more than I am willing to loose, but if it means I will need to leave this site for my safety then that's what I will do
    Not happy, had to report another member for harassment today, for trying to discredit me, its no secret that some of my pictures are AI , however its my face feminined, a lot of us wear masks on here, some wear silicon masks some wear makeup two hide the face, I hide behind my AI image because I am not ready to show the world who I am, my wife and daughter know anout my cross dressing its created a mountain of problems more with my wife than my daughter, I almost have a non existent relationship with my wife now, two people know of me as Zara outside of here, however there are members on here I have seen out and about while I am the male version of me, I live in a very small town where a lot of people know each other being found out can destroy more than I am willing to loose, but if it means I will need to leave this site for my safety then that's what I will do
    Love
    Yay
    Like
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    1 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4KB Ansichten
  • A number of years ago, I walked into a small back street Charity Shop on the edge of town. I wasn’t really looking for anything specific just browsing, killing time, letting my eyes wander over the racks the way I always did when I felt that familiar restless itch under my skin. Then I saw it. Hanging slightly askew on a padded hanger near the back wall, half-hidden behind a row of sensible navy blazers, was a floor-length satin bridal gown. Ivory, not stark white. The bodice was structured but not boned, the skirt a gentle A-line that flared softly rather than ballooning into tulle insanity. A modest neckline. Delicate lace overlay on the shoulders and upper chest. And pinned to the hanger was the tag: Size 32 Worn once £49. My heart gave a hard, guilty thud. I’m a UK 18" collar with a 50" chest in men’s shirts. But dresses… dresses measure differently. Especially wedding dresses. Especially ones made to accommodate curves most people would call “plus size.” I glanced around. The shop was quiet. An older woman with silver hair was sorting bric-a-brac at the counter; a younger volunteer early twenties, purple streaks in her hair was steaming something in the corner. I lifted the gown off the rail. The satin felt cool and liquid against my palms. Heavy in the right way. I carried it toward the changing cubicle like I was smuggling contraband. “Would you like to try it on, love?” the silver-haired woman called out. Her voice was kind, matter-of-fact. No trace of surprise or judgement. I froze for half a second. “Yes please,” I managed. My voice sounded smaller than usual. She smiled. “Curtain’s already drawn back there. Take your time. Shout if you need a hand with the zip.” The cubicle was narrow, just a full-length mirror screwed to the wall, a single hook, and a thin beige curtain that didn’t quite reach the floor. I hung the dress on the hook and stripped quickly out of my jeans, hoodie, socks, boxers, down to bare skin that already felt too warm, too alive. My **** was already half-hard just from touching the fabric, from the sheer improbability of this moment. I reached into the pocket of my discarded jeans on the floor and found the condom I always carried now just in case. Fingers trembling, I tore the packet, rolled the latex down over my throbbing length, making sure the reservoir tip was positioned correctly. The relief of containment was immediate. No stains. No evidence. Just secret, pulsing heat trapped safely inside. I stepped into the gown. The skirt whispered up my calves, over my thighs. I pulled it past my hips slowly, carefully and the satin glided over the soft roundness of my belly without catching. I tugged the bodice up over my chest. The cups were generously cut, there was room. Actual room. I reached behind and found the long invisible zip. It slid up smoothly, no resistance, no straining. When I let my arms drop, the dress settled around me like it had been waiting. I looked in the mirror. The reflection showed someone soft and full and blushing furiously beneath ivory satin. The modest neckline framed the gentle swell of my chest and the faint shadow of cleavage created by the way the bodice pushed everything together. My hips looked wide and womanly beneath the smooth fall of fabric. My belly made a soft, proud curve against the front of the skirt. I turned sideways. The line from back to front was lush, generous, unapologetic. It fit. It actually fit. A small, involuntary whimper escaped me. I heard footsteps outside the curtain. “Everything alright in there?” It was the younger volunteer this time. I swallowed. “Yes. Um… could you, could you maybe check the zip? Just to make sure it’s all the way up?” The curtain parted a few inches. She peeked in, eyes widening for only a heartbeat before her face softened into a genuine smile. She stepped inside careful, professional and fastened the tiny hook-and-eye at the top of the zip I hadn’t been able to reach. Her fingers were gentle. “There. Perfect. It’s like it was made for you.” I couldn’t speak. My **** was fully hard now, straining painfully against the satin lining. A bead of pre-cum had already escaped and I could feel the slippery warmth of it against the inside of the dress. I smoothed the front of the skirt with both hands. The satin gleamed under the fluorescent light. I looked sill looked like a bloke in a dress. A big, soft, blushing, overweight very happy bride. When I finally stepped out, both women were waiting. “I’ll take it,” I said. Whilst the younger woman unhooked and unzipped me, the silver-haired woman rang it up. “£49. Cash or card, love?” I handed over my card. I left the Charity Shop with the dress folded carefully in a large carrier bag, the memory of satin against every inch of my skin still electric. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I was hiding. I felt like I was finally beginning to find myself.
    A number of years ago, I walked into a small back street Charity Shop on the edge of town. I wasn’t really looking for anything specific just browsing, killing time, letting my eyes wander over the racks the way I always did when I felt that familiar restless itch under my skin. Then I saw it. Hanging slightly askew on a padded hanger near the back wall, half-hidden behind a row of sensible navy blazers, was a floor-length satin bridal gown. Ivory, not stark white. The bodice was structured but not boned, the skirt a gentle A-line that flared softly rather than ballooning into tulle insanity. A modest neckline. Delicate lace overlay on the shoulders and upper chest. And pinned to the hanger was the tag: Size 32 Worn once £49. My heart gave a hard, guilty thud. I’m a UK 18" collar with a 50" chest in men’s shirts. But dresses… dresses measure differently. Especially wedding dresses. Especially ones made to accommodate curves most people would call “plus size.” I glanced around. The shop was quiet. An older woman with silver hair was sorting bric-a-brac at the counter; a younger volunteer early twenties, purple streaks in her hair was steaming something in the corner. I lifted the gown off the rail. The satin felt cool and liquid against my palms. Heavy in the right way. I carried it toward the changing cubicle like I was smuggling contraband. “Would you like to try it on, love?” the silver-haired woman called out. Her voice was kind, matter-of-fact. No trace of surprise or judgement. I froze for half a second. “Yes please,” I managed. My voice sounded smaller than usual. She smiled. “Curtain’s already drawn back there. Take your time. Shout if you need a hand with the zip.” The cubicle was narrow, just a full-length mirror screwed to the wall, a single hook, and a thin beige curtain that didn’t quite reach the floor. I hung the dress on the hook and stripped quickly out of my jeans, hoodie, socks, boxers, down to bare skin that already felt too warm, too alive. My cock was already half-hard just from touching the fabric, from the sheer improbability of this moment. I reached into the pocket of my discarded jeans on the floor and found the condom I always carried now just in case. Fingers trembling, I tore the packet, rolled the latex down over my throbbing length, making sure the reservoir tip was positioned correctly. The relief of containment was immediate. No stains. No evidence. Just secret, pulsing heat trapped safely inside. I stepped into the gown. The skirt whispered up my calves, over my thighs. I pulled it past my hips slowly, carefully and the satin glided over the soft roundness of my belly without catching. I tugged the bodice up over my chest. The cups were generously cut, there was room. Actual room. I reached behind and found the long invisible zip. It slid up smoothly, no resistance, no straining. When I let my arms drop, the dress settled around me like it had been waiting. I looked in the mirror. The reflection showed someone soft and full and blushing furiously beneath ivory satin. The modest neckline framed the gentle swell of my chest and the faint shadow of cleavage created by the way the bodice pushed everything together. My hips looked wide and womanly beneath the smooth fall of fabric. My belly made a soft, proud curve against the front of the skirt. I turned sideways. The line from back to front was lush, generous, unapologetic. It fit. It actually fit. A small, involuntary whimper escaped me. I heard footsteps outside the curtain. “Everything alright in there?” It was the younger volunteer this time. I swallowed. “Yes. Um… could you, could you maybe check the zip? Just to make sure it’s all the way up?” The curtain parted a few inches. She peeked in, eyes widening for only a heartbeat before her face softened into a genuine smile. She stepped inside careful, professional and fastened the tiny hook-and-eye at the top of the zip I hadn’t been able to reach. Her fingers were gentle. “There. Perfect. It’s like it was made for you.” I couldn’t speak. My cock was fully hard now, straining painfully against the satin lining. A bead of pre-cum had already escaped and I could feel the slippery warmth of it against the inside of the dress. I smoothed the front of the skirt with both hands. The satin gleamed under the fluorescent light. I looked sill looked like a bloke in a dress. A big, soft, blushing, overweight very happy bride. When I finally stepped out, both women were waiting. “I’ll take it,” I said. Whilst the younger woman unhooked and unzipped me, the silver-haired woman rang it up. “£49. Cash or card, love?” I handed over my card. I left the Charity Shop with the dress folded carefully in a large carrier bag, the memory of satin against every inch of my skin still electric. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I was hiding. I felt like I was finally beginning to find myself.
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  • My fingers tremble, just a faint quiver, as I reach for the foil packet on the nightstand. It’s almost weightless, a promise in silver. I tear it open with deliberate care (the small rip loud in the stillness), and the condom unfurls like liquid mercury. Cool and impossibly thin, it glides down over my already aching ****, sheathing me in a trembling second skin. Safe. Secure. A fragile barrier between me and the avalanche of satin to come. A bead of pre-cum kisses the latex tip; I smile. Patience, little sissy. You’ll have your reward.
    The first layer is a whisper-pink satin chemise, so fine it feels wet. I let it slither over my head, down my chest, until the hem brushes mid-thigh. Instantly it warms, clings, releases, and clings again with every breath. My palms chase the fabric, front and back, greedy for the slick heat blooming beneath my touch.
    Next, the Black nightgown (double-layered, heavy, devotional). I step into it and draw it upward. The inner lining kisses the chemise, and they sigh together: shhh, shhh, my private lullaby. It falls to my ankles in a perfect liquid column. When I move, both layers ripple, cool against cool, warmer where my body heat pools.
    The robe is deep rose, quilted satin outside, and champagne gloss within. Arms slide into sleeves, and the lining floods over my skin like chilled cream poured slow. I cinch the sash, and the world contracts: four surfaces of satin now stroking one another with every heartbeat (chemise on nightgown, nightgown on robe lining, lining on skin). I walk barefoot across the room, and the fabrics answer in overlapping waves: the chemise clings, the nightgown glides, and the robe slithers and sweeps. A private orchestra of frictionless lust.
    In the mirror I’m only blush and ivory shimmer, face flushed above an ocean of gloss. I lift my arms; sleeves fall back like slow-motion waterfalls. When they drop, the collapse is a soft, wet thud against my body that I feel in my teeth.
    I sink onto the midnight-blue satin duvet and let the robe bloom beneath me. On my back, layers flatten and spread, cool against my shoulder blades, my thighs, and the arches of my feet. I arch (just slightly) and the slide is obscene: satin on satin on satin, endless, merciless.
    Knees drawn up, fabric pools thick and warm between my thighs like molten candy. My palms smooth down the front (quilted diamonds, slick columns, clinging chemise, skin), and every layer moves with me, against me, inside me.
    Now the first of my headscarves, ballet-slipper pink, three feet of pure satin. Folded triangle wide, draped, pulled beneath my chin, crossed, and knotted tight. It cups my jaw and seals my throat. A second knot sits just under my lower lip like a soft gag. The world muffles instantly.
    Second scarf, ivory and heavier. Over the first, tied again triangle wide. Four thicknesses now cradle my head, press my cheeks, and frame my face in a gleaming oval.
    Third, a deep rose bandeau wound low, looped twice, and knotted at my nape. My chin is forced gently down; swallowing makes every layer glide against my throat in one slow, liquid swallow of its own.
    Then the veils.
    Pink chiffon, so sheer it’s barely there, yet it turns every texture beneath into a caress. Ivory voile next, pinned high, floating like breath. Last, pale mint over my face alone, tucked beneath the lowest knot. The room becomes watercolor. Breathing through it is filthy intimacy: the fabric flutters against my lips, tasting faintly of dye and my own heat.
    A final white satin ribbon, narrow and merciless. Three coils around my neck over every knot, until only a thick, glossy band remains, pulsing with my heartbeat.
    From crown to toe, only satin and chiffon speak. When I turn my head, the scarves whisper, and the veils drift like perfume. Pressure under my chin is constant, loving, and absolute.
    One sleeved hand slips beneath the pooled folds at my thighs (satin, satin, satin then the cool, taut drum of latex). The contrast is blinding. I stroke once, slowly. My breath flutters the veil against my lips.
    Knees higher. The other hand presses the stacked knots beneath my chin (gentle ownership). I begin: lazy circles that turn greedy. The condom translates every ridge of fabric into bright, liquid fire. Veils drift across my chest with each ragged inhale. Heat blooms, trapped, multiplied, sacred.
    Faster. Hips rock. The robe lining slithers against the duvet in one long, wet slide. Scarves tighten as my head sinks deeper into the pillow; the ribbon collar throbs.
    Release crashes silent and total. I bite down on nothing but chiffon, a muffled whimper swallowed by layers. Pleasure pours into the latex sheath in thick, obedient pulses, trapped and perfect, echoing through every fold until my whole body is one long satin tremor.
    After, I lie glowing. The condom keeps me immaculate (another reverent layer). My chest rises and falls beneath quilted satin and drifting voile; tiny aftershocks ripple like quiet tides.
    My fingers tremble, just a faint quiver, as I reach for the foil packet on the nightstand. It’s almost weightless, a promise in silver. I tear it open with deliberate care (the small rip loud in the stillness), and the condom unfurls like liquid mercury. Cool and impossibly thin, it glides down over my already aching cock, sheathing me in a trembling second skin. Safe. Secure. A fragile barrier between me and the avalanche of satin to come. A bead of pre-cum kisses the latex tip; I smile. Patience, little sissy. You’ll have your reward. The first layer is a whisper-pink satin chemise, so fine it feels wet. I let it slither over my head, down my chest, until the hem brushes mid-thigh. Instantly it warms, clings, releases, and clings again with every breath. My palms chase the fabric, front and back, greedy for the slick heat blooming beneath my touch. Next, the Black nightgown (double-layered, heavy, devotional). I step into it and draw it upward. The inner lining kisses the chemise, and they sigh together: shhh, shhh, my private lullaby. It falls to my ankles in a perfect liquid column. When I move, both layers ripple, cool against cool, warmer where my body heat pools. The robe is deep rose, quilted satin outside, and champagne gloss within. Arms slide into sleeves, and the lining floods over my skin like chilled cream poured slow. I cinch the sash, and the world contracts: four surfaces of satin now stroking one another with every heartbeat (chemise on nightgown, nightgown on robe lining, lining on skin). I walk barefoot across the room, and the fabrics answer in overlapping waves: the chemise clings, the nightgown glides, and the robe slithers and sweeps. A private orchestra of frictionless lust. In the mirror I’m only blush and ivory shimmer, face flushed above an ocean of gloss. I lift my arms; sleeves fall back like slow-motion waterfalls. When they drop, the collapse is a soft, wet thud against my body that I feel in my teeth. I sink onto the midnight-blue satin duvet and let the robe bloom beneath me. On my back, layers flatten and spread, cool against my shoulder blades, my thighs, and the arches of my feet. I arch (just slightly) and the slide is obscene: satin on satin on satin, endless, merciless. Knees drawn up, fabric pools thick and warm between my thighs like molten candy. My palms smooth down the front (quilted diamonds, slick columns, clinging chemise, skin), and every layer moves with me, against me, inside me. Now the first of my headscarves, ballet-slipper pink, three feet of pure satin. Folded triangle wide, draped, pulled beneath my chin, crossed, and knotted tight. It cups my jaw and seals my throat. A second knot sits just under my lower lip like a soft gag. The world muffles instantly. Second scarf, ivory and heavier. Over the first, tied again triangle wide. Four thicknesses now cradle my head, press my cheeks, and frame my face in a gleaming oval. Third, a deep rose bandeau wound low, looped twice, and knotted at my nape. My chin is forced gently down; swallowing makes every layer glide against my throat in one slow, liquid swallow of its own. Then the veils. Pink chiffon, so sheer it’s barely there, yet it turns every texture beneath into a caress. Ivory voile next, pinned high, floating like breath. Last, pale mint over my face alone, tucked beneath the lowest knot. The room becomes watercolor. Breathing through it is filthy intimacy: the fabric flutters against my lips, tasting faintly of dye and my own heat. A final white satin ribbon, narrow and merciless. Three coils around my neck over every knot, until only a thick, glossy band remains, pulsing with my heartbeat. From crown to toe, only satin and chiffon speak. When I turn my head, the scarves whisper, and the veils drift like perfume. Pressure under my chin is constant, loving, and absolute. One sleeved hand slips beneath the pooled folds at my thighs (satin, satin, satin then the cool, taut drum of latex). The contrast is blinding. I stroke once, slowly. My breath flutters the veil against my lips. Knees higher. The other hand presses the stacked knots beneath my chin (gentle ownership). I begin: lazy circles that turn greedy. The condom translates every ridge of fabric into bright, liquid fire. Veils drift across my chest with each ragged inhale. Heat blooms, trapped, multiplied, sacred. Faster. Hips rock. The robe lining slithers against the duvet in one long, wet slide. Scarves tighten as my head sinks deeper into the pillow; the ribbon collar throbs. Release crashes silent and total. I bite down on nothing but chiffon, a muffled whimper swallowed by layers. Pleasure pours into the latex sheath in thick, obedient pulses, trapped and perfect, echoing through every fold until my whole body is one long satin tremor. After, I lie glowing. The condom keeps me immaculate (another reverent layer). My chest rises and falls beneath quilted satin and drifting voile; tiny aftershocks ripple like quiet tides.
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    0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 10KB Ansichten
  • Oh dear, how sad, never mind, pass me the world's smallest violin - Samantha73 seems to have blocked me and sent me a reply i can't even see - my guess is it's because i pointed out that being nasty to asylum seekers is pretty much the same as being nasty to trans or crossdressed people - know by the company "she" keeps, eh?
    Saves me the effort having to block a nasty "person" quelle domage.
    Oh dear, how sad, never mind, pass me the world's smallest violin - Samantha73 seems to have blocked me and sent me a reply i can't even see - my guess is it's because i pointed out that being nasty to asylum seekers is pretty much the same as being nasty to trans or crossdressed people - know by the company "she" keeps, eh? Saves me the effort having to block a nasty "person" quelle domage.
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  • 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/
    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/
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  • 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/
    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/
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  • Love the feeling of the straps digging into my chubby flesh its too small though~ my little strawberry poked out
    Love the feeling of the straps digging into my chubby flesh 😍 its too small though~ my little strawberry poked out 🤭
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  • Fabulous time away, 270 girls all fully dressed, no hairy bums, no bulges in too small knickers just genuine crossdressing girls enjoying being out in the real world
    Fabulous time away, 270 girls all fully dressed, no hairy bums, no bulges in too small knickers just genuine crossdressing girls enjoying being out in the real world
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  • 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...
    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...
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  • New LBD and sandals. Something about nude in shoes that make everything feel a little bit classier... even a tad too small dress
    New LBD and sandals. Something about nude in shoes that make everything feel a little bit classier... even a tad too small dress ☺️
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  • Here is one of my awsome photos. (I made several) Using my own body, from when I was in Germany over 10 years ago. I did have a wig on and small breast inserts. At that point in my life I weighed 137pounds. I now am about 158lbs but starting to diet again. Couple of changes now, is my hair is now mid-back length and my breasts are now real Bs. But I think I am a bit chunky. Acording to my current diet plan I can reach 138lbs again by next April. Please give me comments? Dawn
    Here is one of my awsome photos. (I made several) Using my own body, from when I was in Germany over 10 years ago. I did have a wig on and small breast inserts. At that point in my life I weighed 137pounds. I now am about 158lbs but starting to diet again. Couple of changes now, is my hair is now mid-back length and my breasts are now real Bs. But I think I am a bit chunky. Acording to my current diet plan I can reach 138lbs again by next April. Please give me comments? Dawn 🥰
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  • I am going to do a whole wedding sequence soon. I am learning to use AI and use my own body to try on clothes and add different back grounds. The photo I am posting today is an AI background added to a Teal swimsuit I am modeling. I did tuck well and added a small lift on the top. I am a true B so I do have some real breast to work with. This one I think is almost art. I hope to actually wear a teal swimsuit to a future beach trip. (I have gone to the beach being a woman several times now) Appreciate comments please.
    I am going to do a whole wedding sequence soon. I am learning to use AI and use my own body to try on clothes and add different back grounds. The photo I am posting today is an AI background added to a Teal swimsuit I am modeling. I did tuck well and added a small lift on the top. I am a true B so I do have some real breast to work with. This one I think is almost art. I hope to actually wear a teal swimsuit to a future beach trip. (I have gone to the beach being a woman several times now) Appreciate comments please. 🥰
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  • See through,small b00bs
    #sissy #nylon #crossdressser #transgender #feminization #bas #collant #pantyhose #stocking #pied #feet #lingerie #maletofemale #sexy #fantasme #lgbt #porn #soumission #bdsm #hosiery #trough #ladyboy #gartbelt #nails #tits #boob #****
    See through,small b00bs #sissy #nylon #crossdressser #transgender #feminization #bas #collant #pantyhose #stocking #pied #feet #lingerie #maletofemale #sexy #fantasme #lgbt #porn #soumission #bdsm #hosiery #trough #ladyboy #gartbelt #nails💅 #tits #boob #cock
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  • A small part of your day with me. It can be enjoyable or painful. It all depends on whether you deserve pleasure or punishment.
    A small part of your day with me. It can be enjoyable or painful. It all depends on whether you deserve pleasure or punishment.
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  • Today’s little video clip.
    A sexy little red number with suspenders and a small skirt.
    Today’s little video clip. A sexy little red number with suspenders and a small skirt.
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  • 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
    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
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  • Small very small...yes,i'm a sissy
    #sissy #nylon #crossdresser #transgender #feminization
    Small very small...yes,i'm a sissy😁 #sissy #nylon #crossdresser #transgender #feminization
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  • Was thinking about typing out something so funny that it's legibility was questioned. Gin martinis taste better, but vodka ones just **** ya up mo' betta.
    Don't forget my fellow faggot ass retards, police liaison is another way for the pigs to build a believable case against you and me.
    Overthrow small government here at home because the Republicans just want peace. Nukkke the nuclear families and indoctrinate all races under age 30 like selfish wise men should.
    GOD BLESS GAY AMERICA
    Was thinking about typing out something so funny that it's legibility was questioned. Gin martinis taste better, but vodka ones just fuck ya up mo' betta. Don't forget my fellow faggot ass retards, police liaison is another way for the pigs to build a believable case against you and me. Overthrow small government here at home because the Republicans just want peace. Nukkke the nuclear families and indoctrinate all races under age 30 like selfish wise men should. GOD BLESS GAY AMERICA
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  • Joanne's kinky night on the golf course.
    Joanne (48, a librarian by day, a siren of the twilight by night) adjusted the black lace bra & panties set and stockings, its delicate fabric a stark contrast to the rough texture of the damp grass beneath her bare feet & slipped on her black heels. The golf course, usually a scene of quiet precision, was her personal stage tonight. A setting sun cast long, skeletal shadows, transforming the manicured greens into an ethereal landscape. Tonight’s performance featured a selection of rather… large props nestled in her oversized handbag: a collection of vibrant, sculpted silicone anal toys, each promising a different kind of ecstatic violation of her arse. Her camera & tripod, a trusty Canon EOS, hung from her shoulder, ready to capture the all the moments of her self-expression, her daring exhibitionism & dizzy hights of pleasure under the watchful gaze of the setting sun. She hoped, with a thrill that sent a shiver down her spine, that someone, some stranger, would stumble upon her, witness her transgressive ritual.

    Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the periphery – a woman, stood silently among the shifting light and shadows, motionless all but a slight movement under her top, was she caressing her breast, Joanne couldn’t quite see through the lengthening shadows cast by the warm light now fading sun, she walked silently towards her, her eyes transfixed upon Joannes hand, now clutching a black 18 inch silicone dildo, dripping with lube, with an unnerving glance and a very slight but nervous smile, she said nothing, her hand was on her breast squeezing it quite intensely. Joanne, momentarily startled, didn't scream or run. Instead, a perverse curiosity overcame her fear. This was unexpected, far beyond her usual nocturnal escapades, but something she had fantasised about for many years.
    The woman approached, gazing at her discarded panties laying on the grass, then curiously picked them up & inspecting them, “nice” she softly said, “ don’t mind me, I’m happy to see what you intend doing with your toys” Joanne tried to talk, but her mouth was dry with fear and she trembled with anticipation of what this evening may become, one of the anal toys she had not long before putt in her arse was slipping, she could feel the lube running down her leg, then it did, it dropped from her & their it laid out on the dew-kissed grass! OMG, I’m so embarrassed Joanne squeaked like a fool, the woman smiled as she gazed upon the size of the slippery escapee, the woman took a few more steps towards Joanne, she was just inches from her trembling body, she could smell her musk perfume hanging in the air, she wasn’t young, perhaps in her early fifties with dark but dies hair, pale skin and piercing blue eyes “turn around” she spoke in soft Irish accent that was calming and sweet. Joanne obliged and turned her back to her, she felt the woman’s hand upon hers slowly taking the long black snakelike toy from Joanne’s hand, with a gentleness Joanne hadn’t felt since being in the company of her mother she felt a hand gently caress her back and ever so gently pushed her into a bent over position, in that moment she felt she was in the most amazing place had ever known, to her amaze the woman slowly pushed the toy into her arse, not working it in and out but with one long slow determine push, it slid all the way into her arse. With the lady now leaning into Joannes back, her perfume intense in Joanne’s nose it was almost like a drug, sending her into a heavenly blissful trance. The woman took her other hand reached around to grasp Joannes ****, it was so cool, soft and gentil, almost childlike, slowly teasing her fingers over the tip, playing with a small drop of precum that she found dripping from the head, this seemed to go on for a eternity, slowly increasing the rhythm and grip, Joanne could feel her pleasure building as her shaft grew harder and harder, she slipped one hand behind her and found the top of the woman’s shorts and panty line, slowly she slid her hand down to the woman’s neatly shaved vulva, but just at that brief moment of contact Joanne burst bout a great grown and stood shaking all over from head to foot, her hot moist seamen flowed from her the woman’s grasp, falling to the floor and landing on Joannes discarded panties.
    Feeling a little faint, Joanne fell to her stocking clan knees, then to her hands, panting like a hot hound and quivering like a leaf on a tree she couldn’t believe what had just happened, composing herself she turned to face the mystery woman, she had gone, as silently as she had appeared, the sing that she had ever been present was a small white flower laying next to Joanne’s now spoilt panties.
    Joanne's kinky night on the golf course. Joanne (48, a librarian by day, a siren of the twilight by night) adjusted the black lace bra & panties set and stockings, its delicate fabric a stark contrast to the rough texture of the damp grass beneath her bare feet & slipped on her black heels. The golf course, usually a scene of quiet precision, was her personal stage tonight. A setting sun cast long, skeletal shadows, transforming the manicured greens into an ethereal landscape. Tonight’s performance featured a selection of rather… large props nestled in her oversized handbag: a collection of vibrant, sculpted silicone anal toys, each promising a different kind of ecstatic violation of her arse. Her camera & tripod, a trusty Canon EOS, hung from her shoulder, ready to capture the all the moments of her self-expression, her daring exhibitionism & dizzy hights of pleasure under the watchful gaze of the setting sun. She hoped, with a thrill that sent a shiver down her spine, that someone, some stranger, would stumble upon her, witness her transgressive ritual. Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the periphery – a woman, stood silently among the shifting light and shadows, motionless all but a slight movement under her top, was she caressing her breast, Joanne couldn’t quite see through the lengthening shadows cast by the warm light now fading sun, she walked silently towards her, her eyes transfixed upon Joannes hand, now clutching a black 18 inch silicone dildo, dripping with lube, with an unnerving glance and a very slight but nervous smile, she said nothing, her hand was on her breast squeezing it quite intensely. Joanne, momentarily startled, didn't scream or run. Instead, a perverse curiosity overcame her fear. This was unexpected, far beyond her usual nocturnal escapades, but something she had fantasised about for many years. The woman approached, gazing at her discarded panties laying on the grass, then curiously picked them up & inspecting them, “nice” she softly said, “ don’t mind me, I’m happy to see what you intend doing with your toys” Joanne tried to talk, but her mouth was dry with fear and she trembled with anticipation of what this evening may become, one of the anal toys she had not long before putt in her arse was slipping, she could feel the lube running down her leg, then it did, it dropped from her & their it laid out on the dew-kissed grass! OMG, I’m so embarrassed Joanne squeaked like a fool, the woman smiled as she gazed upon the size of the slippery escapee, the woman took a few more steps towards Joanne, she was just inches from her trembling body, she could smell her musk perfume hanging in the air, she wasn’t young, perhaps in her early fifties with dark but dies hair, pale skin and piercing blue eyes “turn around” she spoke in soft Irish accent that was calming and sweet. Joanne obliged and turned her back to her, she felt the woman’s hand upon hers slowly taking the long black snakelike toy from Joanne’s hand, with a gentleness Joanne hadn’t felt since being in the company of her mother she felt a hand gently caress her back and ever so gently pushed her into a bent over position, in that moment she felt she was in the most amazing place had ever known, to her amaze the woman slowly pushed the toy into her arse, not working it in and out but with one long slow determine push, it slid all the way into her arse. With the lady now leaning into Joannes back, her perfume intense in Joanne’s nose it was almost like a drug, sending her into a heavenly blissful trance. The woman took her other hand reached around to grasp Joannes cock, it was so cool, soft and gentil, almost childlike, slowly teasing her fingers over the tip, playing with a small drop of precum that she found dripping from the head, this seemed to go on for a eternity, slowly increasing the rhythm and grip, Joanne could feel her pleasure building as her shaft grew harder and harder, she slipped one hand behind her and found the top of the woman’s shorts and panty line, slowly she slid her hand down to the woman’s neatly shaved vulva, but just at that brief moment of contact Joanne burst bout a great grown and stood shaking all over from head to foot, her hot moist seamen flowed from her the woman’s grasp, falling to the floor and landing on Joannes discarded panties. Feeling a little faint, Joanne fell to her stocking clan knees, then to her hands, panting like a hot hound and quivering like a leaf on a tree she couldn’t believe what had just happened, composing herself she turned to face the mystery woman, she had gone, as silently as she had appeared, the sing that she had ever been present was a small white flower laying next to Joanne’s now spoilt panties.
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  • Hii everybody hope those in the UK are having a lovely bank holiday weekend I have been on holiday in Derbyshire recently and went on a really cute small train at the Steeple Grange Light Railway and would certainly recommend it 🩷🩷 xx
    Hii everybody 😊 hope those in the UK are having a lovely bank holiday weekend 🥰 I have been on holiday in Derbyshire recently and went on a really cute small train at the Steeple Grange Light Railway and would certainly recommend it 🩷❤️🩷 xx
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  • Serious question how do those enjoy things in their bottom prepare for bigger things ? Is a matter of starting small and working up ? And how often does it need to be?
    Serious question how do those enjoy things in their bottom prepare for bigger things ? Is a matter of starting small and working up ? And how often does it need to be?
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  • Hrt is starting to give me a small bust
    Hrt is starting to give me a small bust
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    14 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4KB Ansichten
  • In my white outfit and trying my new piss gag to get a good feel for it, now I just need to find a small group of horny men to put it too good use....
    In my white outfit and trying my new piss gag to get a good feel for it, now I just need to find a small group of horny men to put it too good use....
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  • While I understand that Crossdressing encompasses many smaller fetish groups, submissives, sissies, Dominants, adult babies etc etc, but they are not crossdressing as such but extra sub sections that grow from dressing femme. I am no prude and have tried most of the sub sections, but out of respect for other girls and myself I will ONLY chat about my experiences and show risque pictures in private chat. Like a lot of girls here I don't want to see cocks or nude asshole while I am enjoying a meal. There is a time and place for everything but not on the main wall. This is supposed to be a SOCIAL site not a porn one
    While I understand that Crossdressing encompasses many smaller fetish groups, submissives, sissies, Dominants, adult babies etc etc, but they are not crossdressing as such but extra sub sections that grow from dressing femme. I am no prude and have tried most of the sub sections, but out of respect for other girls and myself I will ONLY chat about my experiences and show risque pictures in private chat. Like a lot of girls here I don't want to see cocks or nude asshole while I am enjoying a meal. There is a time and place for everything but not on the main wall. This is supposed to be a SOCIAL site not a porn one
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    15 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 12KB Ansichten
  • This corset is getting too big for me. Must get one two sizes smaller
    This corset is getting too big for me. Must get one two sizes smaller
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  • I love big ones small one soft ones & hard ones, they all taste the same which could be said about carrots also!
    I love big ones small one soft ones & hard ones, they all taste the same which could be said about carrots 🥕 also! 🙃
    Haha
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  • I'm thinking of getting myself a breast plate. I'm 6'5 tall and 44" around the chest across the nipples. Don't want to go too small & tight, want a decent pair, but I don't want to look like Dolly Parton. Anyone suggest what size I should go for?
    I'm thinking of getting myself a breast plate. I'm 6'5 tall and 44" around the chest across the nipples. Don't want to go too small & tight, want a decent pair, but I don't want to look like Dolly Parton. Anyone suggest what size I should go for?
    2 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4KB Ansichten