I’ve been faithfully married for over twenty-five years. My wife and I share a great relationship. Like most dating and newly married, young couples, we had sex often in the beginning. The sex has grown less frequent, now, but whose hasn’t after that many years together.
I began wearing my older sister’s baby doll nighties very early on. Later, it was a pair of my mom’s pantyhose.
I’m 57, and for about 15 years, I’ve crossdressed occasionally when the opportunity presented itself. At first, only in the confines of my bedroom and house. I eventually built up the courage to venture out as a non-pass woman. Getting slightly bolder recently, I’ve visited a few welcoming venues en femme, while on business travel. I now underdress daily, however, mostly in just panties.
My wife is not dumb and, as she has proven nearly every day of our 25+ years together is much more observant than I am. She has seen hints of my femme self over the last several years and either hasn’t put it together or is in denial. I can’t figure out which.
Hint No. 1…
I didn’t have any panties when we married and hadn’t worn lingerie in years, but about 5 years into the marriage, the yearning returned. I started secretly borrowing a pair of hers and then started acquiring my own.
When I say I’m a closet CD, it’s not by choice. About 15 years ago, I made an actual attempt to come out. I tried to ease her into it, to test the waters. I’d had my small stash of panties I’d kept hidden for years and only wore when she wasn’t home. I found a website for men who wore panties. Some of the other members on the website suggested a way to broach the subject with one’s significant other. I decided to give it a try and set my plan in motion.
After a shower one evening, I feigned running out of clean, boring, cotton, tightie-whities. I came out and said, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wear a pair of your underwear.” She didn’t freak out. She just laughed and said, “Okay.” I thought to myself, “Oh boy! This is it, I’m gonna be a panty wearer!”
I distinctly remember the pair of Victoria’s Secret, black, high-leg cut briefs she handed me from her panty drawer. Nothing special, but OMG! PANTIES! IN THE OPEN! IN FRONT OF MY WIFE! I slipped them on, trying not to be too obvious in my elation. I put on a pair of baggy shorts and a t-shirt while we fixed dinner and ate.
Let’s just say, the sex was great that night…
Well, the next day I went out and bought a five-pack of nylon panties with lace waistbands. I knew she hadn’t had time to do laundry during the day so after my shower, I went to her panty drawer and grabbed another pair of hers I didn’t pick anything too girly. It was another great night!
The third night, after my shower, I put on a pink pair of the panties I had purchased. When I went into the kitchen, she asked, “Did you see that I did laundry today?” I answered, “Yes.” But said nothing more.
At bedtime, I took off my shorts and t-shirt, revealing my new panties. She looked surprised. “I thought you said you saw the clean laundry.”
“I did, but I like the way these feel,” I answered.
” I don’t know about this.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
That’s when I got the dreaded, “Are you gay?”
“No. No, sweetheart. I just thought it was okay with you.”
“Then why are you wearing panties all of a sudden?”
“I just like the way they feel.”
“Well, they’re pink … They’re women’s panties … I don’t think I like it … I’m not lesbian … It feels wrong.” And a whole litany of societal conditioning she couldn’t overcome came tumbling out. She expressed an aversion to crossdressing. She practically had a meltdown.
“Okay, honey. That’s okay, I’ll get rid of them.” I returned to the closet, literally to get a pair of “men’s underwear”, and figuratively. It took a while for her to get over it. That was the last time she saw me in panties. I didn’t blame her. Maybe it was too much of a shock. I kept the new panties, anyway.
Over the years, I’ve been through the typical binge and purge cycles of many CDs, although, never throwing everything out, keeping a few pair of panties each time, telling myself I would only wear them occasionally, just to find myself with fifteen to twenty pairs again within a year. The urge was irresistible
It seems that, rather than getting over the urges, the desire has only burned brighter as time passed. Seven years ago, when my wife put some boxes of clothes in the garage to donate to a charity thrift store, I sorted through them and found a few things that fit me. I managed to put together a couple of outfits, that I hid away.
This only made me want to feminize myself even more. Over time, I started going through her donation piles and added a few pieces of costume jewelry and some shoes, including heels she couldn’t wear anymore because it hurt her knees to wear them. Her shoes are only about 1/2 size too small. I wound up with flats, Yellow Box sandals, platform sandals, and 3 and 4-inch pumps. I bought garter belts, stockings in black, white, and several nude or natural shades. I bought waist shapers. I bought bras. I even bought a couple of cheap wigs. I had to buy a couple of toolboxes from the hardware store to keep it all in and hid them away with the rest of my stuff in the garage.
I dressed only when she was out very late with friends, shopping all day, or away on a trip to visit out-of-town friends. I would track her iPhone to know when to start dismantling all of my work. Twice, when she was out of town for the weekend I dressed completely for the day and even ventured out, under the cover of darkness, to buy a pack of cigarettes at a convenience store or go into Walmart to grab something quick and use self-checkout. I mostly avoided interacting with people. It has all been thrilling.
To be continued….