I'm in the role of a secretary Xx

Night Solitude

Why you are so afraid?
Afraid to walk alone?
To be just finally
Yourself
When nobody
Could touch
Your Soul
Dissolved in Air
Over Earth...

Why do you need
To talk
To touch
To kiss
Why you are not so happy
If you're missed
If only secret
Is in Solitude
When fingers
Gently
Playing your Prelude
When nobody
Tell suddenly
That
So possessive word
When you feel
Danger of the sword

It is time to go...
To your Solitude
In night
In night
When coming stars
Are few...

I walk alone
In my thoughts
In night
And honestly
I hope
You don't mind...

Was listening to a woman talking to another going on about her son got caught by her wearing her underwear. She was saying how ashamed he should be and be punished etc.
That was me when I was growing up. Stealing a pair of tights then putting them on in secret. I feel for this young boy and hope he gets the support that I craved at that age. X

This is what I am secretly wearing under my boy clothes today while I work Doordash. Will I deliver some food to you?

And don't forget to visit my blog!?: https://lifeofsissychrissy.blogspot.com/

#sissy #sissyboy #sissygirl #tgirl #crossdresser #transgirl #transwoman #shemale #femboy #lgbt #lgbtq #gay #blog #eroticblog #taboo #kink #fetish #transgender #naked #nude #fullfrontal #nakedtrans #nakedgay #girlcock #girldick #tgirlcock #sandiego #tgirlass #asspussy #bussy #boypussy #pantymodel #panty #panties #bra #bramodel #meninpanties

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

Night Bird

I pass the window
In the night
That hides
Your secret life
I am not jealous.
May I
Forget all
Pleasant Past
I stay a little
Look
And dream
Of talks
That were through
Night.
Two shadows
In the room
I leave.
I never liked
Your wife.
You choose
Yourself
Another girl
Another
Tender lips
Or maybe not
And you're alone
But no
I better leave...

soy crossdreser madura de 56 años busco un dominante Empresario para ser tu secretaria o ayudanta y que quiere me me feminizar y convertir en su mujer de verdad , y ser tu mujer
Soy agradable, educada , limpia total pasiva y sumisa

Secretary looking for a job

Secretary ready for here new job

Hello, I’m looking for a dominant man, or an active CD sister, preferably a business owner, to become your personal secretary and have a stable relationship.

I would like to find someone who wants to help me become the person I truly want to be: a very feminine trans woman, sissy, TV/CD, and woman seven days a week, accepting all the consequences that come with it.

Perhaps you have the opportunity and desire to shape and feminize someone according to your wishes and ideas, helping transform me into your very feminine future transgender woman for everyday life.

Hola yo Busco a un hombre maduro, dominante, o una hermana CD activa mejor algun dueño de empresa para ser tu secretaria personal y una relación estable en la que quiera conseguir que yo, una persona trans , para ser tu futura mujer sissy, televisión, CD y mujer muy femenina 24/7, los 7 días de la semana, y todo eso con todas las consecuencias asociadas. ¿Quizá tienes la inclinación de moldear y feminizar a alguien para ti según tus deseos e ideas para convertirla en tu mujer transexual muy femenina

Wish of Fall...

Soon cold
And rain
Will make me
Wear tights
To walk
So slowly
With pleasure
Of little
Hidden
Secret
Dance...
Dance
Of my Fall
My fall
Forever...

You will forget me
Not forgive
I know that
The pain of leave
The leave of autumn
In my heart
Since I am born
A girl in tights
The symbol
Of lost Love...
Lost Nights ...

I will say it again! I am not a full time cross dresser (secret cross dresser that is) like most of us on here, and am not sure why I get the urge to dress!!! But when I do get that urge it’s a wonderful feeling

"We all want a miracle (this is for one post, and about our life in general). But are we ready to pay the price?"

From the pier Apostle Andrew was casting his line, while the Savior walked over the sea.
Andrew pulled out the minnows from out of the brine, and the Savior saved souls from the deep.
And Andrew cried out: "I will leave this old pier, if you don't tell the secret to me!"
And the Savior replied: "Andrew, calm down your fear, there is no bloody secret, you see.

Do you see on that hill, where the crucifix stands?
A dozen of soldiers are waiting in line.
Go and hang from that cross by your feet and your hands,
And when you get bored of your time,
Come walk on the wave, walk on the wave, walk on the wave with me!"

P.S. I am not the Savior, not even close. But there is something to think about?

Anybody need any secretarial/oral work doing??

You want
Me smile?
Happy face
Well matches
Sexy skirt?
I could not.
Sadness
On my face
Is Love
That's passed
That's gone.
It's still
Inside,
Inside
My heart...
Though
Secret
For the next
But skirt
Is short
Just to distract
From sadness
That remains...

Busco un hombre maduro y dominante, o una hermana Crossdresser que es activa, mejor con algún dueño de negocio, para una relación estable en la que quiera tenerme, como su secretaria personal,siendo una persona transexual , quiero ser tu futura mujer sissy, televisión, CD y mujer muy femenina las 24 horas del día, los 7 días a semana y todo eso con todas las consecuencias asociadas. Quizá tengas la inclinación de moldear y feminizar a alguien según tus deseos e ideas para convertirla en tu mujer transexual muy femenina y puta en la cama

The life of a secret dresser…..unexpected trip for family to so I’ve brought my entire back catalogue so to speak home! Seeing it all in a bag is quite sad. Like I’ve said before to me Nicky is single and free but reality sucks! Still have to go to work….Nicky will have to wait some more! X

Busco a un hombre maduro, dominante, o una hermana CD activa mejor algun dueño de empresa , para ser secretaria personal y una relación estable a largo plazo en la que quiera conseguir que yo, una persona trans ,para ser tu futura mujer sissy, televisión, CD y mujer muy femenina 24/7, y todo eso con todas las consecuencias asociadas. ¿Quizá tienes la inclinación de moldear y feminizar a alguien para ti según tus deseos e ideas para convertirla en tu mujer transexual muy femenina? ¿Quizá quieres dejarme hacer unas tetas realmente súper sexys? ¿Quizá tengas deseos e ideas muy especiales que quieras poner en práctica conmigo? ¿Quizá también tengas la posibilidad de implementar esto conmigo? , estoy listo para mudarme. Soy muy sumisa por naturaleza, pasiva y cariñosa

Downside of dressing in secret is you could never explain the tan line away!! No Ai has been used in this photo just blatant copy right infringement! Hope you have all enjoyed the sunshine x

Lost Smile

One lonely night
I ll find my smile
My secret
And my Luck
I will forget
My Past
And Fires
Of early
Morning
Lit the skies...

Just smile
Lost
Among
Oh where?
Why it is difficult
To find...
And heart
Will answer
You were not yet ready
To fall
All suddenly
In Love...

Busco un hombre maduro y dominante, o una hermana Crossdresser que es activa, mejor con algún dueño de negocio, para una relación estable en la que quiera tenerme, como su secretaria personal,siendo una persona transexual , quiero ser tu futura mujer sissy, televisión, CD y mujer muy femenina las 24 horas del día, los 7 días a semana y todo eso con todas las consecuencias asociadas. Quizá tengas la inclinación de moldear y feminizar a alguien según tus deseos e ideas para convertirla en tu mujer transexual muy femenina y puta en la cama

Hola soy femenina sumisa busca a su amo

Soy una mujer femenina, sumisa y aún algo reservada que busca al hombre dominante al que pueda someterme por completo. Mi deseo ser esclava sexual de su amo que seria dueño de un negocio para ser su secretaria personal y amanta para uso diario

I would say lets be clear guys, because that's what most of us on here are. We will never be women, unless of course having you fully transition, I would say unless your lucky (?) enough to have a smooth soft face, your always gonna look like a fella in a dress, and if you aint got the posture and deportment of a real girl, unfortunately your just going to look quiet comical, and I include myself in that. Mind having said all that, perhaps most on here accept they will never pass as a woman, and are not trying to, but when that familiar need and compulsion to dress feminine comes round, there really ain't nothing like stepping into the softness of feminine clothing, and adopting as much as is possible the mannerisms, attitudes and movements of a female. But more than that its the freedom to be soft, kind, gentle empathic, to allow for a time these generally female qualities, and characteristics to emerge, at least for a while. Such attitudes generally unacceptable in the normal masculine role. Lets be clear, a man having desires to dress as a female, is not what you would call normal behavior in the eyes of the world. I fully understand there are different shades of sexuality, and everyone is different. Thank God for diversity. But I question would a real woman, when finding out her male partners desire to dress in the feminine, would really lose all respect and love for him, when he turns out not to be the man she initially thought he was, and perhaps while maybe accepting him would secretly snigger at him, and look to move on and away from him in the very near future. As far as I am aware women in general are seeking a masculine man, they seek out that polarity, so that they can step into their own femininity with ease, unless they are perhaps lesbian, or some other slice of sexuality.
Read less

Why do you cross dress, just curious. For myself, at times its feels very much like a complusion, I just have to do it, or would at times I feel go mad.
Its erotic, sexual, comforting, stress release. An opportunity to allow this secret side of myself to emerge, without critical judgement, condemnation, shame or embarrassment. Then I put away the clothes untill the next time, and there will always be a next time .....

Hi there #cosy #crossdresser #secret #love

I guess this site is where im comfortable to be an open book right now,

I cant talk to many others as they beat me up and laughed about it when it was my secret

THAT HURT ME BAD!

THAT SCARRED ME!!

Im gonna go shower as like every other night im desperate for that long unrushed company as who im clearly wanting to be!!

Might even...

GO LIVE!!

IF...

YOU ALL HELP ME EMBRACE ME, ENCOURAGE ME,

SUPPORT ME, JUST BE THE PEOPLE WE ARE I GUESS!!!

I WANNA BE A FUCKING SLUT TONIGHT,

IF "ANY" OF YOU CAN FINALLY HELP ME GET LAID FOR HOURS OF THE BEST SEX WITH WELL..

A FUCKING DIRTY SLUT

THEN IM VERY VERY GAME!!

NO AND THESE ARE A FIRM NO!!!

NO BLOOD!

NO SERIOUS PAIN!

NO PISS!!

NO SHIT!

ABSOLUTELY "NO" BODY OR **** HAIR!

NO BIG BEARDS!!

NO FUCKING "FEET"!!

AND NO FATTIES!!



my likes....

Hung smooth all over (so they look silky) in shape and strong dom guys

Girls all i need to say to the rest of you is,

Nobody likes A HAIRY BITCH, its fucking disgusting and if you wanna be a bitch then make an effort!!

How can i share my number??

Love you girls and again...

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FROM BEHIND THAT DOOR THATS BEEN LOCKED FOR 22 YEARS!!

as i wrote 22 years i just started crying

About relationships with women. Even though some women seem friendly to women like me, and even supportive, it always ends up almost the same.

Either you're just a toy that gets boring sooner or later. Or they're trying to force you into marriage, with all the responsibilities a husband would have in a marriage. Ultimately, the relationship breaks down,
and scandals ensue. That's why I'm not very positive about women writing private messages. For the same reasons, I'm not interested in dominatrixes when I see their photos, which pop up here and there.
I think this stems from a profound ignorance of our psychology; not everyone is ready to submit to women, far from it. Where does this stereotype come from?

And by the way, I lost my job because a female colleague harassed me. I turned her down, and she created hell for me at work. It's funny, yes, women complain about harassment at work from men. They do the same thing themselves, and then take elaborate revenge if they're rejected. That's why I feel more comfortable with men, or with sisters like me.
At the same time, I don't hate women. We can chat, hang out, be friends, but nothing more. And I keep my passion a secret from them. For the reasons described above.

Secretary in need of some Work

Long ago

Long ago
I decided
Be girl
And stop
Hiding
At work
And in nights
I got boots with
The heels
And enjoyed it
Silver hair
And lipstick
Good buy
I was searching
Myself
But wrong
Way
I was getting
Just older and older
Long ago
Hair turn
To be gray...
And I learn
All that
Secret
Be girly...

I'm going for a walk this morning with a little secret under my clothes...

Wow! Top secret! Really beautiful!

i'll let you into a secret… i got chatted up by a fella who initially thought i was a cis woman, last week, because "you look like one, you aren't dressed all tarty" "well, i wear what a woman would wear" "Exactly!" he said! xxx

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

It begins there, always.

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

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

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

But that is only the surface of it.

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

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

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

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

And then I looked in the mirror.

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

Now, it is ritual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for a little while, that is enough.

My name is Cait, and although I keep this inner twin side secret, I am not ashamed of who I am, I was made this way.
I believed I was a fetish and played the part for a long time not knowing really, deep down, Cait as as much a part of who I am as my Masculine mask and deserves the same self respect

I am not a fetish, I am not a mental illness, I am Cait, a manifestation of of my feminine side in balance with her Masculine.
I don't need the acceptance gained by degradation.

I hope this thought helps you.

There's something exhilarating about going out and about running errands while secretly wearing bra & thong panties under my regular clothes

Laundry day thongs. Black cotton Victoria Secret thong panty. I don't usually wear cotton but, comfy for a relaxing afternoon

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.

Hi all. I know many for many here dressing is a secret and have wives and partners that would never understand. I have my own reasons for dressing but one thing for sure is that it is my secret and I wouldn't want anyone else to know and would never wreck my relationship because of it. So thought would give a few hints and what i do to keep it secret. Probably teaching you to suck eggs but all hints and tips welcome on how you keep it secret.

Shopping - I only order from Amazon and M&S purely because I can pick up and not have anything delivered to the house.Sane for returning items. I also only have an Amazon account for me, my mrs has her own account so no chance of her seeing what i order. We also have separate bank accounts, very handy.

Social - I am only on this site and Chaturbate. Limit which sites you are a member of and don’t go for big dating sites etc. where you could be spotted. Also don’t give your true location, i use the closest city but never my exact town.
Photos - Do not use full face in photos unless you trust who you are sending pics to. Blur backgrounds if you need to and make sure nothing identifying in pics. Tattoos etc. with names that might give something away.

Clothing Storage - The hardest thing to keep tabs on. Am lucky that only i can get into the attic so i have a box with all my gear in stashed up there. That’s where i would suggest if you have an attic. Otherwise garage is good place.

Mobile devices - I use a Samsung with Android so i use the secure folder for everything, pictures kept there, browsing done there as well. Don’t have them anywhere else unless you know secure.

PC - I am lucky that my mrs does not go on my PC as it is a gaming setup. I do have personal photos on there but they are well hidden in a secure folder deep in my game directories.

Secret & Innocent ...

No one has ever known about me, been dressing since my teens (now 57) in secret. Now live alone and just can’t resist doing it! Lol

Woner how many of us here dress secretly and then when wandering around the lingerie department with the mrs in M&S are secretly looking at what woud look good on you.

trying to be a sexy secretary

A Real Secretary always wears a Satin Blouse

Love Victorias secret🩷🩷🩷