Voice of the Past... Voice of forgotten In the Foggy Past “-You ought to...”, “-You should have...”, “-You must...” Why do they talk To me again...? What were Those memories? Why pain? I freeze I turn I look again... Nobody In alley ... Alone Tree... And Me ... Alone Me... And Tree As Thee Why then That sudden Pain Just scratched My Healed wound Again? Why Voice...? Why it is Never gone? And still With me all day? Why? Why I am not Alone...? Why? Why Leaves? Why shadows Talk... Why trees? Amnesia? Why Thee? Why I still do remember You in me...? Why I am so afraid This pain? That could have been Just scratch not seen... Perhaps I still, Still wish your touch It was the only Dream ... The Dream of mine You are the Tree, Tree In Alley... Why I do feel you Still so much Your touch... And gently Talk to Thee... My Darling... So long ago you are free since all have felt Apart... Your leaves Still whisper On cold wind The Words, Words of lost Love I doubt often Is it Thee ? Alone silent as a tree Whom are you talking to? To Wind? To me? I want just run away I see You're waiting Someone else... Just me? I am afraid ... But dress... … That lovely dress I do, I wear I do, do cut Quite short My hair... Like you Reviving All your past Your presence..? Yes I ought to Even must I dare... The only way The Love Will last Is to build Future, Brake the Past But... Why then That so sudden Voice this day? Just Touched My Healed wound Again? Why pain...? Why it is Never gone? And still With me All heart is thorn ... Why I am not Alone...? Why? Why Leaves Why do these shadows Talk? Why are you Silent tree? Amnesia... Is not erasing Thee... Why I still feel It still remains? What could have Been just scratch But pains Perhaps I still Still wish your touch The only Dreams of mine in nights Dream through Death darkness With no lights You were The Tree Fall Thee Alley... Why I do feel it Feel Your touch... And gently Talk to Thee... Not much Why still You come As silent tree? Why do you come To talk To me? I doubt... I am so afraid The Love I do confess. I want to run To run away, away Not waiting Someone else... ... I do... I wear Wedding dress I do... I cut My hair... Too... Like you.. Reviving In my chest That I still love Still Love just you The only way The Love Will last Is to build Future Brake the Past But you are Telling From my depth From part I hidden well You re still living In my heart The Future Or a Spell? Or Magic Of becoming You When I'm just With Myself? Oh just Forgotten “I Love You...” So strange Strange foretell... I freeze I wait I turn No one... I know… But the tree In long alley of park My Bride… We've met… I recognise, Your dress Your hair You're alive Alive somewhere… Still hidden In my heart...

Hi sweets! I started a new blog! It's cleaner and easier to read and navigate. This blog contains explicit sexual themes, taboo fantasies, fetish content, and material that may offend or disturb some readers. Go here: https://lifeofsissychrissy.blogspot.com/ Intro: Foreword Welcome to The Life & Fantasies of Transgirl Sissy Chrissy. You should know, before turning another page, exactly what kind of book you are holding. This is not quite an autobiography. It is not quite fiction. It lives somewhere more dangerous than either. These stories emerge from the memories, desires, insecurities, obsessions, fears, curiosities, and private fantasies of Sissy Chrissy—a 47-year-old feminine gay man who longs to live more fully as a woman, but who, for now, remains caught between the life she inhabits and the woman she imagines herself becoming. Some of what follows really happened. Some of it happened differently. Some of it began with a memory and was seduced into fantasy. And some of it never happened at all—except in the secret country of Chrissy’s imagination. That distinction will not always be made clear. It is more interesting that way. Within these pages, reality is negotiable. One story may place Chrissy in a familiar bedroom, bar, street, hotel room, or anonymous encounter. The next may drag her somewhere impossible: into the arms of machines, monsters, supernatural beings, forbidden lovers, creatures of fantasy, or strange worlds where ordinary rules no longer apply. The familiar and the impossible sleep beside each other here. So do tenderness and depravity. Romance and lust. Humor and humiliation. Fear and fascination. Beauty and grotesquerie. Some stories are playful and flirtatious. Some are tender. Some are deliberately trashy. Some are dark, feverish, and unsettling. Some indulge fantasies that polite people are not supposed to admit they have. And some wander unapologetically into territory that many readers will consider deeply taboo. That is not an accident. Fantasy has always been a place where human beings trespass. In imagination, we can approach the forbidden without claiming it should become permissible, flirt with danger without inviting it into reality, and explore thoughts that would be impossible, immoral, absurd, frightening, or even monstrous outside the protected territory of fiction. A fantasy is not a confession. A fantasy is not a manifesto. And a fantasy is not necessarily a wish for reality. Sometimes the imagination simply asks: What if? And Chrissy, more often than she probably should, answers. The Woman at the Center of It All For all the spectacle, kink, fantasy, horror, absurdity, and eroticism in these stories, the real subject of this book is Chrissy herself. Chrissy lives in contradiction. She is feminine, but the body she inhabits still tells another story. She wants to be desired as a woman, touched as a woman, admired as a woman, and recognized as the person she feels herself becoming. Yet she also carries decades of masculinity, insecurity, shame, humor, hunger, resilience, and memory with her. She can be brazen one moment and painfully vulnerable the next. She wants to be wanted. She wants to be seen. She wants to surrender without disappearing. She wants to be outrageous without apologizing. And sometimes she simply wants the freedom to imagine herself in situations reality would never permit. That conflict—the distance between who Chrissy is, who the world sees, and who Chrissy becomes when no one is watching—runs beneath nearly every story in this collection. Sometimes it surfaces as romance. Sometimes as comedy. Sometimes as darkness. And very often as desire. Because desire has a way of revealing the parts of us that daylight teaches us to hide. These stories allow Chrissy to stop hiding. A Private Theater of Desire The fantasies collected here are not restrained by realism. They are excessive by design. Some are conventional. Some are strange. Some are kinky. Some are deliberately provocative. Some will make certain readers laugh. Others may make them blush. Still others may make them shut the book and wonder what, exactly, they just read. That, too, is part of the experience. Chrissy’s imagination does not always concern itself with respectability. Sometimes it wants romance. Sometimes affection. Sometimes danger. Sometimes surrender. Sometimes something so outrageous that only fiction could contain it. And beneath all of that is perhaps the oldest fantasy of all: to step outside the limits of the self. To become more beautiful, more feminine, more desirable, more fearless, more shameless, more alive. To walk through a door reality keeps locked. Even if only for a few pages. #sissy #sissyboy #sissygirl #tgirl #crossdresser #transgirl #transwoman #shemale #femboy #lgbt #lgbtq #gay #blog #eroticblog #taboo #kink #fetish #transgender

Weekend is finally here 😊 I’m free and in the mood to get out, have some fun, and enjoy good company. Maybe grab a drink, have dinner, take a little drive, or just see where the evening takes us. If you’re genuine, fun, respectful, and looking for some good vibes this weekend, feel free to say hello. 💕 Who knows, maybe we’ll make some nice memories together.

From My Old Memories ❤️ 🥰

This is an old photo; unfortunately, our paths have diverged, leaving only memories. 🥰 I wish you a wonderful weekend 😍 👌 , and if you find your soulmate 💞 , hold on tight and don't let go. 🤞

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2xjbuoRsSE I mentioned earlier that I quit my job. Yesterday, I gathered up all the things that reminded me of her, took them outside, put them in a bucket, and set them on fire to leave it all behind. I had this song playing in my headphones as I stood there, watching the fire consume the negative memories. You know what? It helps. I recommend this method. 😇

My old Memories ❤️💝

Old Memories Clips ❤️

No home office today :(. but I have still nice memories :)

I never really got into crossdressing until about 7 years ago, (I am 47) but it always in me and sometimes it would come out, Halloween especially, another reason I love that season. But looking back, one of my first memories was locking myself in my older sister's room and getting caught in her dress. I think I was born to crossdress. Now I have been single a long time and I live alone so I am free to express myself I find Cat was definitely always there, I am not one for regrets, but I wish I had set Cat free years ago, but it was a different world then. I am pleased and thankful the Cat can come out of the bag now, even if the bag is hidden in closet.

I do have happy memories xx I had a lady friend who would help me with dressing up & makeup etc.

#memories 😍

One of my early crossdressing memories was finding a pair of ribbed navy tights discarded in the cloak room at primary school. I knew I should have taken them to lost property, but there was no name in them and I wanted them so badly. White hot shame on my face I stuffed them in my coat and took them home at the end of the day. I wore them every night after I was sent to bed and revelled in the way they made my legs look and feel. I remember wishing I could find a pinafore dress to wear with them. It's funny the things that stick with us 🥰 xxx

I really liked this photo! This day was very special for me, and this record will always bring me good memories!

Memories it all , ha ha ha

Good afternoon everyone. Oh I'm so dreamy today. Thinking back to my time at school. I have such mixed feeling cause I so wanted to be a girl, and I almost feel cheated by that. But the memories of seeing what my (girl)friends wore and the butterflies in my chest daydreaming about what it would be like to dress as a girl... Oh my! 🥰 X

Having some sexy fantasies, imagining being picked up at a club and taking in the back seat of some Hot guys car. He rips a hole in my sheer pantyhose and slides my little panties to the side, he's a little drunk and believes he's entering my vagina but really I'm riding him while he's deep inside my tight ass pussy..he's moaning with pleasure and unloads a massive creamy warn Stream of cum filling me up as i jump off and Finish whats leftover on his throbbing manhood. I french kiss him and depart from The backseat of his car , leaving him with memories of the sexiest night ever.......

LOOKING BACK THROUGH TIME AND SPACE WONDERING HOW I GOT THIS WRINKLED FACE LAUGHTER LINES FROM HAVING FUN TOO MANY RAYS FROM SUMMER SUN CREAMS AND POTIONS I HAVE TRIED BUT NONE WORK WHEN THEY’RE APPLIED WILL HAVE TO ACCEPT IT, IT’S JUST AGE IN LIFES BOOK, JUST ANOTHER PAGE I ‘M NOT UNHAPPY, I ‘M FEELING FINE MEMORIES IN EACH WRINKLE LINE EVERY LINE HAS A STORY TO TELL I’M LIVED MY LIFE, LIVING IT WELL MORE MEMORIES I HAVE TO MAKE BUT THE LINES SHOW I’M NO FAKE