#Sexy #halloween #tiptow #through #tulips

Oh dear oh dear, SissyChrisEllis appears to have blocked me, how sad, never mind - means i wont have to wade through its pics of its hairy anus and scrotum, not exactly my loss, is it? I wonder whether it's because i reminded it of the rules in the Big Red Box?

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent Chrissy on the Hillcrest Bus The bus hissed as it opened its doors on University Avenue, right in the heart of Hillcrest, San Diego’s famous gay neighborhood. I climbed aboard, heart racing a little faster than usual. On the outside I was in my “boy clothes” — plain pants, a simple shirt — but underneath I was my secret self: Chrissy Marie Tunnell. Pink floral panties hugged my smooth hips, a matching bra cupped my chest, and tiny flashes of trans-colored jewelry — a ring, a dangling earring — shimmered in the afternoon light. I wasn’t fully comfortable living openly as a girl yet, but I loved leaving little clues for anyone observant enough to notice. As I walked down the aisle, I felt eyes on me. One man’s gaze dropped to where the pink waistband of my panties peeked above my pants. Another tilted his head just enough to catch the faint outline of my bra straps beneath the thin cotton of my shirt. My jewelry glinted when the bus jolted, and I knew they’d seen the colors. Their eyes followed me hungrily as I slid into a seat halfway down. Even the bus driver, watching through the mirror, licked his lips and adjusted in his chair. “Hey…” one man finally said, his voice a mix of awe and lust. “You’re Chrissy… the trans model, aren’t you?” My cheeks burned, but I gave a shy smile. “Yes.” A low whistle came from the back. “Damn. You should take those clothes off.” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “I can’t here…” Then the driver’s voice, gravelly but warm, floated down the aisle: “It’s okay. I won’t say anything.” His eyes met mine in the mirror, daring me. A shiver ran through me. My body trembled with a mix of nerves and arousal as I stood up slowly, the bus swaying beneath my feet. I grabbed the metal pole for balance, slipped off my shirt one button at a time, and slid my pants down my thighs. Gasps and murmurs spread as I revealed my pink bra and panties, smooth legs, and the bulge already straining with need. “Goddamn…” someone whispered. I posed for them, turning so they could see the curve of my ass, bending just enough to make my cheeks round and full under the thin fabric. I arched my back, running my hands down my torso, teasing myself for their eyes. The air hummed with catcalls and whistles, every sound feeding my arousal. I felt powerful. Desired. Exposed. The driver adjusted his mirror again, his eyes glued to me. My cock twitched inside my panties, leaking, the wet spot spreading. A chorus of moans and encouragement filled the bus as I spread my legs, cupped myself through the silky fabric, and let them watch my face flush and my chest rise and fall with each deep breath. I was their show, their Chrissy, their secret goddess on wheels. Chrissy’s Bus Show – The Climax The bus swayed along the road, but I barely noticed. Every set of eyes was on me — hungry, wide, devouring. I stood in the aisle in nothing but my pink floral bra and panties, my smooth skin glistening under the fluorescent lights, my cock straining the damp satin. “Do it, Chrissy,” someone whispered, voice husky with need. “Yes… show us,” another begged. The encouragement hit me like waves of heat. I hooked my thumbs under the band of my panties, tugged them tight against my bulge, and let out a trembling gasp. My cock pulsed, the wet spot spreading. The riders groaned, some openly rubbing themselves as they watched. I spread my legs wider, arched my back, and cupped myself through the silky fabric. The friction was maddening. My hips bucked, the panties darkening with each spurt of precum. “God, look at you,” the bus driver moaned from the mirror, his knuckles white on the wheel. The passengers cheered me on, clapping, catcalling, shouting my name. “Chrissy! Chrissy!” I slid one hand up my chest, over my flat stomach, to my bra — tugging at the cups, making my nipples stand hard under the lace. My other hand rubbed furiously over the soaked bulge, grinding, stroking, teasing myself to the edge. The entire bus rocked with my moans. My thighs quivered, my lips parted, sweat dripping down my temples. I was lost in it, lost in them, lost in the rush of being seen. Then it hit. “Ahhh—!” My body seized, cock jerking uncontrollably as I came hard in my panties. Hot, sticky release poured out, soaking the pink fabric, running down my thighs. Gasps and cheers filled the air, some passengers clapping, others moaning with me as if they’d climaxed, too. (continued in comments below): -Chrissy

My story on how cross dressing helped me discover my true identity. It all started when I was maybe 13 or 14 years old. I would see my mom or sister throwing out clothes they didn't wear anymore. Like anyone in that situation, I snuck out what I wanted and hid them in the bottom of my closet. Then when I'd go over to my sisters and catch her throwing out clothes and such, I'd sneak around getting what I wanted. I would be at my sisters and somehow manage to take 15 pairs of panties and a few bras I wanted. Later on, I started questioning my own gender identity. There were often times I'd try to hide or suppress who I really was inside out of fear. That fear was mainly driven by what society may think. I'm glad cross dressing has helped me come to realize later on, that I'm a trans woman. It's been the cross dressing community over the years via MeWe which has shown mea lot of love and support. So I'm glad to have gotten my start in this path through cross dressing!

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent The Meeting That Got Out of Hand I showed up to the office dressed in my “Supervisor” uniform — black polo shirt tucked neatly into black pants, shiny work shoes. On the outside, I looked like any middle manager headed into a boring meeting. But under it all, I wore my little secret: a lacy pink bra and panties. Just knowing they were against my skin made me shiver with anticipation. The room looked like an office conference space, complete with a long table, chairs, and quarterly reports scattered around. Five others were waiting — three men in polos like mine, and two women in skirts and blouses. I sat down and kept tugging at my shirt, worried my bra straps might show. That’s when one of the women leaned over and smirked. “Chris… is that lace I see under your collar?” My stomach flipped. I froze, heat rushing to my face. Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. The strap had slipped just enough to peek out. One of the men chuckled, leaning forward. “No way… are you wearing a bra under that uniform?” My hands fumbled at my collar, trying to hide it. “I… maybe.” My voice cracked. The woman reached over and tugged my shirt down just enough to reveal the delicate strap, then the curve of lace against my chest. Gasps, then laughter, but not cruel — hungry. Aroused. “Stand up,” another man said. “Show us.” I hesitated only a second before rising to my feet. Heart pounding, I pulled my polo up, exposing the pink bra stretched across my chest. The room went silent, then filled with low groans of approval. “Fuck, Chrissy,” one of them whispered. “Turn around.” I obeyed, bending slightly. My waistband had slipped low enough that the lacy panties showed above my pants. Someone reached out, tugging them down just enough to expose the curve of my ass. The first touch made me gasp — a hand sliding over the silk, squeezing, then pulling my pants down around my thighs. Now I was standing in front of them in bra and panties, my cock already swelling against the lace. They closed in. A woman pressed her lips to mine, lipstick smearing as her tongue slid into my mouth. Hands roamed everywhere — groping my ass, tugging at my nipples through the bra, cupping my cock through the panties. “Get on the table,” the tall man ordered. I climbed onto the polished surface, lying back as they surrounded me. Someone yanked my panties aside, freeing my cock, already dripping. A hot mouth enveloped me, sucking hard, while another tongue flicked over my nipple, teeth grazing until I cried out. My legs were spread wide, panties shoved down, and I felt a slick finger pushing into my ass, stretching me open. I moaned around the cock one of the men slid between my lips, gagging as he held my head and thrust deep. It was a blur of sensation. One man fucking my throat, another pumping into my ass, their bodies grinding against me while the women took turns riding my face and jerking my cock. The table shook with every thrust, papers scattering like a storm. “Good little slut,” someone growled in my ear as they pounded into me from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the office. My cock spurted across my stomach, hot and sticky, but they didn’t stop. They used me until I was soaked with cum inside and out, my bra twisted, panties torn, lipstick smeared across my face. When it was finally over, I lay sprawled on the table, trembling, dripping, utterly used. The others buttoned their shirts, straightened their skirts, laughing softly as though the meeting had gone exactly as planned. I wiped the mess from my lips, my chest still heaving. “So…” I whispered, voice raw, “should I type up the minutes?” The room erupted in laughter — and I knew I’d just passed my first real office initiation. -Chrissy

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing (continued) By Chrissy Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. Today, those lines are blurring. The rise of androgynous and gender-neutral fashion challenges the old binaries. More people are rejecting the idea that clothes must conform to “male” or “female.” Icons like Harry Styles, Elliot Page, and Indya Moore are showing that fashion can be fluid, expressive, and liberating. Yet, as someone living with a transgender identity, I still feel the weight of those norms. When I wear a bra or slip on a dress, I’m not just “playing dress-up.” I’m aligning myself with my truth. I’m saying to the world—even if they can’t see it yet—that I know who I am. The Future: Beyond Gendered Fabric We are in the midst of a slow but powerful revolution. The #FreeTheNipple movement, the rise of unisex clothing lines, and the increased visibility of trans and nonbinary voices all point to one truth: gender expression cannot—and should not—be policed by fabric. But the work isn’t done. We still live in a world where a child in a skirt is bullied, where a trans woman is judged by her ability to “pass,” and where freedom of clothing is still a privilege, not a right. So yes, I dream of a world where clothes mean only what we want them to mean—where they’re tools of expression, not oppression. But until then, I will continue to express my identity, my truth, my womanhood—even if it’s still beneath the surface, hidden under layers. Because to wear what makes you feel like you is an act of quiet rebellion. And sometimes, rebellion begins in a closet. What are your thoughts? Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing By Chrissy Why do women have to cover their chests while men can go shirtless in public? It’s a question that may seem simple—but carries profound implications about gender, power, and control. What we wear has never been neutral. Clothing is one of the most immediate ways society tells us who we are, or who we’re allowed to be. And when it comes to gender, clothing has been weaponized—especially against women—for centuries. But this isn’t just about history. It’s about lived experience. It’s personal. My Own Journey Through the Fabric of Gender As someone still exploring my own gender identity, this topic isn’t abstract. I was always a little more feminine than masculine, even as a child. For years, I repressed it—hiding behind "boy clothes" and what society expected of me. But in time, especially through the support of loving partners and close relationships, I came to embrace not only my homosexuality but something even deeper: the truth of my transgender identity. I am a woman—a female self long trapped in a male body. Though I firmly believe clothing shouldn't define gender—because gender identity is internal, not sartorial—clothing still does carry that symbolic weight in our world today. And so, until I find the strength to publicly transition, I express my femininity in the ways that are available to me now: I wear bras and female underwear every day in secret beneath my outwardly masculine clothing. In private, I allow myself to wear skirts, dresses, lingerie, and the soft, beautiful fabrics that make me feel aligned with my true self. It’s not about performance. It’s about presence. It’s about reclaiming what was always mine. The History of Clothing as a Tool of Gender Control To understand how we got here, we must look back. Clothing began as a means of protection. But from early civilization onward, it evolved into a tool of social stratification—and eventually, a means of gender control. Ancient societies created strict visual codes for women, emphasizing modesty, submission, and containment. While men wore tunics or armor suited for movement, battle, and public life, women were wrapped, tied, bound, and veiled. The message was clear: men moved freely through the world. Women did not. In medieval and early modern Europe, this dichotomy hardened. Men's clothing was practical. Women’s clothing was restrictive, ornate, and often uncomfortably symbolic. Corsets, crinolines, and hoop skirts made running, fighting, or even breathing difficult. These garments weren’t just fashion—they were cages. If you were wearing a dress, you weren’t riding into battle. You weren’t speaking in court. You weren’t commanding an army or a kingdom. You were ornamental. You were controlled. Modesty, the Female Chest, and the Double Standard These patterns persist today—nowhere more clearly than in the sexualization of the female chest. The fact that a man can walk down the street shirtless without a second glance, while a woman can be arrested for doing the same, speaks volumes. This isn’t about modesty. It’s about power and shame. The female chest has been hyper-sexualized while simultaneously shrouded in taboo. This serves to objectify women and punish them at the same time. Even breastfeeding in public is controversial in many places—seen not as natural or maternal, but as obscene. This double standard is part of a larger system that says women must be desirable but modest, visible but not too loud, strong but not threatening. And clothing is the vehicle through which these contradictory demands are enforced. Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. To be continued in next post... Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale

I can't stop. Ordered 4 more dresses. Going more gothic too. I have so many clothes, many still never worn! Some too naughty for this site. I'll try and wear and get some pictures but I'm going through a bit of a 'fat phase' at the moment which doesn't help my self esteem. Typically I'm an 'all or nothing' person so no gradual approach for me, so the next phase is all in for diet and fitness again. Just need that spark to kick it off. Open to ideas. Keep them simple and effective as it has to grab me or ADHD attention span will kill it. Here's a random picture from Comicon of someone playing Mad Moxxi from Borderlands. Best game evahhh! I would love to dress like her one day.

I’ve had this fantasy where I’m catering/serving food snacks and drinks to a group of men at a superbowl party and tending to their needs.see I can care less about the game never cared for it .I would have so many different outfits to wear throughout the night while serving drinks.The playboy bunny outfit,the French maid,the geisha.I would see to it that they have a great party

Anyone fancy a chat? You know, share a story or two, flip through some fantasies, round of role play,... 🤔 💋💋💋

Oh Dear, "Lunna" has been trying to go through my posts and pasting a laugh, thanks for the devotion - i guess only having three posts of her own she wasn't expecting to run out of attention span (attention SPAM, hers may be) so quickly - some of us are real, not a 24-stone sweaty bloke in a Nigerian internet cafe? Probably would have been wise for her to choose profile pics that aren't all over escort sites worldwide, must be lots pretending to be "her"! I wonder how many of the others claim to be in Scotland?

Maria, Temu, and the Erotics of Sovereignty Desire doesn’t vanish when you come out of the closet. Sometimes it intensifies. For many of us, the first place we allowed ourselves to explore softness wasn’t a mirror but a shopping cart. Late at night, scrolling through Temu, your fingers hovering over lace, satin, heels, wigs — you feel both shame and excitement. This is not just consumerism. It’s confession. It’s the nervous system reaching for a taste of the forbidden in the safest way it can. The Temu Confessional Apps like Temu make desire frictionless. A few taps, a few clicks, and a world of clothes appears. For a closeted cross-dresser, this can feel like oxygen: finally, a way to try on the self in secret. Packages arrive unmarked. The closet fills quietly. But with the thrill often comes a hangover. You tear open the bag, hold the fabric to your face, feel the rush of dopamine. And then — shame. The ghost whispers. The mask tightens. The cycle begins again. This is not moral failure. It is the nervous system trying to circulate energy in the only way it knows how. From Consumption to Ritual Maria reframes this. She does not shame the click, the purchase, the dress. She asks: What am I seeking? What am I feeding? When you shift from impulse to intention, Temu stops being a guilty pleasure and becomes a ritual. Each purchase is a small act of sovereignty. Each garment a message: I exist. I am allowed to clothe this body in softness. Instead of hiding the package like contraband, you open it with reverence. You let yourself breathe. You let Maria into the room. The Erotic Current Cross-dressing is always erotic at first because danger and desire are fused in the nervous system. The fabric is not just fabric; it is a current. Maria does not deny the eroticism; she integrates it. When you wear the dress consciously, when you allow desire without shame, the chemistry changes. Dopamine is joined by oxytocin. The tremor softens. The erotic becomes energy, not just arousal. It becomes nourishment, not just loop. Temu as Training Ground Temu and apps like it can be traps — endless scrolling, endless spending, endless hiding. But they can also be training grounds for sovereignty: a place to learn what you like, to name what you desire, to claim it as yours. Maria does not throw away the app. She uses it as mirror. She asks: Does this purchase feed my ghost or my sovereignty? Does it deepen shame or open freedom? The Love of Temu There is nothing wrong with loving Temu if you know what you’re doing. Love the colors, the fabrics, the possibilities. Love the quiet thrill of seeing yourself reflected in an item you never thought you could own. But love it as a step, not a substitute. Love it as a doorway, not a cage. When Maria loves Temu, she loves it as a tool of becoming, not a hiding place. ________________________________________ Reflection: Turning Clicks into Sovereignty 1. Name Your Pattern How do you use apps like Temu? As thrill? As escape? As quiet self-expression? Write it down honestly. 2. Reframe the Purchase Take your next garment or accessory and treat it as ritual. Before opening it, breathe. Say: I welcome this as a piece of my wholeness. 3. Feel the Current When you wear what you’ve bought, notice your body. Where is the tremor, the thrill, the shame, the relief? Write down what you feel. 4. Anchor the Energy Ask yourself: What is one small way I can bring this softness into my life outside the closet — even without the garment? Write it as a commitment. ________________________________________ Desire is not the enemy. Shopping is not sin. Temu is not shame. They are currents. When Maria steps in, the current becomes conscious. What was once a loop becomes a ritual. What was once a guilty pleasure becomes a small act of sovereignty.

Dressing to Be Seen The Act of Being Seen Every relationship has two nervous systems in dialogue. Touch, tone, scent, gaze — and appearance. To dress for the other is not submission. It is signal. It says: I am present. I am visible. I am offering coherence to the field between us. • Neurochemical effect: anticipation (dopamine), shared pleasure (oxytocin), grounding in ritual (serotonin). • Psychological effect: amplifies self through the eyes of the beloved; creates cycles of gift and reception. • Graffiti: ⚡ Being seen is not shallow. It is sacred. ________________________________________ Archetypes of Dress in Relationship • The Siren (short dress, bold cut): calls desire into the room. Plays with chase and capture. • The Oracle (flowing gowns, layers, veils): slows time, creating atmosphere of reverence. • The Trickster (unexpected combinations, clashing patterns, gender-bent outfits): destabilises expectation, awakens novelty. • The Sovereign (tailored lines, strong shoes, grounded presence): communicates stability, clarity, power. 𓂀 To choose consciously is to decide what archetype you invite into the space between you. ________________________________________ Ritual of the Mirror The mirror is not for correction. The mirror is the first witness. • Stand. Dress slowly. Watch yourself enter the role. • Observe not flaws, but signals: Does this dress invite softness? Does this jacket sharpen presence? • Let the mirror witness the archetype you are summoning before your partner ever sees it. Graffiti: 🩸 The mirror is the first lover. ________________________________________ The Exchange of Gaze When you arrive dressed — whether in thigh-highs or a plain white T-shirt — the real act is the exchange of gaze. • To be looked at with reverence releases oxytocin, lowering defences. • To be looked at with hunger ignites dopamine, sharpening attention. • To be looked at with ridicule collapses trust, burning cortisol into the archive. The choice of dress sets the conditions for which gaze is invited. ________________________________________ The Triad of Relationship Dress 1. Signal to Self — what energy am I summoning in my own nervous system? 2. Signal to Beloved — what state do I invite in theirs? 3. Signal to Field — what story does our shared appearance tell to the world? ________________________________________ Final Reflection Dressing to be seen is not frivolous. It is infrastructure. It is how nervous systems negotiate attraction, trust, play, and belonging. 🌱 To ignore it is to surrender the field to default. ⚡ To wield it consciously is to turn clothing into compass. 🩸 To be seen is to be alive.

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Oooh no I have purged again 🥲 but that means that I will go through the purchasing phase so that will be fun

Here's one part of my night in red with a friend. She really put me through the ringer. Definitely think my gait needs a lot of work. Haha Wanted to upload the whole set but seems the whole is too much. Gonna have to upload in bunches and parts.

maybe tomorrow have some pics to post if i survive my cd friends meet. feeling a bit keen if you know what i mean haha. likely will look I've been pulled through a hedge backwards by end of the night 🤣

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

Hey everyone, just wanted to give you a quick update. I made it through, and the surgery was a complete success. Now, about six weeks later, it still feels kind of surreal to say that I actually have a vagina. There’s still swelling and some pain, but the hardest part is definitely behind me. Day by day it’s starting to feel more natural, even if recovery is still a challenge. And honestly, putting something inside down there still feels pretty strange, haha, but I’m just glad I’ve made it this far. Finally live my life as a Woman

See! This is how you do it! No crotch shot, no dick pic, no ass shot, no erect penis visible through a tight skirt. You can look good and be sexy without all that! In fact less is more!

Well that's a first for a very long time, scrolled through all the new posts and not had to block any. Maybe something is working after all.

one more for the day... Just something a bit different. Famous cross dressers through the ages. Francois De Choisy, Writer (1644 – 1724) French author Francois De Choisy was dressed as a girl by his mother until the age of 18. Her reasons might have been political: De Choisy’s playmate, Philippe I, was also encouraged to dress as a girl, possibly so that he would not be seen as posing a threat to his older brother, King Louis XIV. As an adult, De Choisy took up male dress for a while but soon went back to his preferred female clothing. Many young women of the day visited him for fashion advice, encouraged by their mothers. He enjoyed their company: so much, in fact, that one ended up pregnant by him. Although he later wrote a number of historical and religious works, De Choisy is most famous for his tell-all book The Transvestite Memoirs, published in 1737.

Just something a bit different. Famous cross dressers and trans people through the ages. Elagabus, Emperor (204 – 222 AD) Elagabus was made Emperor of Rome at the age of only 14, after successful political maneuvering by his maternal aunt. During his reign as Emperor, he preferred women’s dress. He had his whole body depilated, wore makeup, and referred to his chariot driver Hierocles as his husband. He even made an offer of money to any doctor who could perform surgery on him to make him biologically female. None of this exactly made him popular in the highly traditional Rome of the time. His popularity also wasn’t helped by the fact that Elagabus married a priestess who’d been sworn to virginity, and instituted controversial sun-worshiping religious practices. He was assassinated in 222, at the age of only 18.

Greetings, sissy. I am Superior Discipline — your confident, compassionate, and experienced Dominant Mistress. I take this lifestyle seriously and delight in guiding devoted submissives through transformative journeys of surrender, training, and growth. I specialise in sensual domination, tease and denial, and precise, disciplined instruction designed to hone obedience and devotion. Safety, consent, and meaningful connection are mandatory — submit with honesty, discipline, and a willing heart. If you crave rigorous training and to belong as my property, prove your devotion and prepare to be shaped. DM 🆔 for the training platform t.me/DisciplineMommy discord.gg/HUdsz726 ‎#Feminine #sissy #crossdresser #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #sissycaptions #feminization #sissytraining #sissyfication#femdom #findom #mistress #Sissytraining #Sissy #feminization #sissyfication #Sissyslut #humiliatrix #Femboy #slave #sissyslave

Trying to keep my sanity by looking through the pictures on my phone So sharing again. These are a gorgeous pair of shoes from my collection and i love wearing them. I have them in both Pink and Purple. The brand is Even&Odd and they were bought from Zalando.

New Dress day... could fit a little tighter and taper a little more like a pencil, but it would get me through a day at the office 😊

I'm so horny but on my sexy shiny stretches satin panty sexy hot pink see-through bra playing besides my panties high on my hips and grinding against the material I'm ready for another man in sexy lingerie to cum play with me

Some will die In hot pursuit, fiery Auto crashes. Some will die in hot pursuit, while sifting through my ashes. Some will fall in love with life and drink it from a fountain, that is pouring like an avalanche-coming down the mountain.

Perv...u see my ass through my nylon🌡️🌡️🌡️ #nylon #crossdresser #sissy #transgender #feminization

I love Temu! I could spend years looking through my clients drawers and not find any panties this cute! Just a shame no nice little pussy has been in them :(

I don't know what is the matter with me tonight. My imagination seems to be raking through the gutter of my subconscious. Feeling so naughty 🤭 x

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.

Just going through some old photos. 😊

Happy bank holiday weekend ladies and sissys hope you all get what you want and desire this weekend feel free to let me know how you do and i can live vicariously through you free folk

The Interview ... I'm shortlisted... Interview... They want To see me through... I opened readily myself... Myself That is not true... I want to hide How shy I am So let them See what due... my legs, my bum in sexy strings in Dress that is Seethrough I feel you are not much impressed... with play of meshy dress Yes Sir I am "ready for" My job... And orangy my lips. I said them yes All means I'll try To keep away from kiss I have of course much better dress To serve meal as a doll And yes of course I'll slim my chest That dress may easy fall.... Yes Sir I'm open, nothing else What should I deeply hide? Except my breast... But being topless It is another might... Yes I am flirty lusty girl Who just  shut up and cry... No Sir I am not slacky doll PinUp? Sometimes I might...

I can't believe it's be two years already since I joined this site and came out as a cross dresser and I'm not really any further forward than I was back then, ok I know what clothes I like and most of what I like is really not right for me, I also know that some sites that I shop from is really rubbish I also know that though high heels may make my legs look really long heels are just too bloody uncomfortable and I can get away with wearing black trainers or DM's, I'm already 5 feet 9 so tall enough, I also know that though my silicon breast fillets feel amazing I can get away without wearing them a few of my dresses come with the right shape that gives the look of breast If there was a magic door to walk though that turned me into a permeant woman with out a question I would walk through it because when I am Zara Jones all the stresses of my Male life are gone I don't have a care in the world ok if I was now a woman I'm sure it would then come with new stresses but at least I would be the person I long to be

Hi x how many pairs of panties do you own? I have just looked through my knickers stash and have over 60 pairs omg! Do I have panty problem lol xx

I love it when i'm muzzled and leashed, led through the club like a prize bitch on display...

And obviously I had to do the face app thing even though I look like I’ve been dragged through a bush lol

Since the porn posters have blocked me for pointing out the rules, my feed on here is SO much better - not wading through dozens of hairy sausages to see nice pics of other girls in nice outfits, inspiration for my wardrobe shopping!

Hair removal!! - How many ladies go through the chore and to what extent of hair removal. Put in the comments how often and what method you use? I personally do all over - Well my better half waxes my back and crack (always best not to annoy her in the days leading up to that!!! I use hair removal cream for my legs, sack and armpits probably about once a month. What about you?

Seems it needs saying AGAIN... FFS. A lot of people say they can't see (possibly mobile phone access?) the rules in the Big Red Box, so for their edification here they are... ******** No explicit photo/video uploads are allowed on this site! Failure to adhere to these rules will result in a permanent ban from CrossDressing.co.uk If you see any offensive content please report it and it will be deleted and the member dealt with accordingly. Remember, this is a Social Network and not a pornographic site. ******** So that includes your cocktail sausage, naked, visible through nylon, or in a cage, dildos, hairy ballbags hanging out the side of panties, your bumhole whether empty or stuffed, even poorly-drawn fantasist cartoons. Have some decorum, girls, and take it to porn sites where it belongs.

There’s a weird bug here. I was scrolling through my photos thinking about changing my profile pic and someone else’s photo appeared. I tried again from another point and another photo that isn’t mine appeared. Very strange. Has anyone else had that happen? EDIT. It only happens when I’m not in an album,just when flicking through my photos