sissy from So Cal

…I go to stay at my sister’s for a few days…

…I come home a day early, and fond the house empty…

…I wait around all day, and late at night, my husband totters in through the door in high heels and dressed up in stockings, women’s underwear and a dress, painted with makeup and wearing a wig.

I don’t understand!

What’s going ?

Are you gay?

Are you one of those transvestites?

……

……

How long has this been going on?

……

And what were you doing?

Meeting up with men, or what?

…..

And please tell me you weren’t walking through our town…our neighbourhood dressed like that!

Please tell me our neighbours don’t know married to a effeminate queer, who dresses up in women’s clothes.

…..

…..

This is all too much for me.

I’m going back to my sister’s to stay and think things through…

And now you want to try on my pantyhose?

Sorry, petal, but I went out with you because I thought you were a man.

I went home with him a week ago.

He seemed more obsesses with my clothes than me…

…couldn’t stop stoking my pantyhose.

And then when he undressed he was wearing pantyhose himself - with lacy panties…

…his whole body was shaven and he had nail polish on his toe nails.

Then he asked if he could try on my skirt and my bra.

Total fag!

Needless to say I was out of there as quickly as I could.

He’s probably wondering if I’m telling you he’s a transvestite.

He’ll be wearing pantyhose and panties uder he’s jeans right now. In fact, I’d bet they’re girls jeans he’s wearing.

Let’s just flash our pantyhose sheathed legs at him. It’ll drive him crazy.

…and then your girlfriend comes home early…

There’s no explaining this away.

Come inside. No amount of cigarettes and procrastination is going to make it any different.

It’s not as if I’m going to be taking away your manhood.

I mean, look at yourself….in your high heels, your pretty little stockings, your women’s lingerie and your wig….it’s not as if there’s any manhood to take.

You’re an effeminate sissy.

You’ll always be an effeminate sissy.

This is just an act of consummation that confirms you as a faggot.

Once it’s over, and your loins are filled with man jizz, you’re on the other side.

You won’t have to fear it, ever again.

You will be going down to the supermarket- and, yes, dressed like that, in your stockings and stilettos and short flouncy white skirt.

Oh, are they the neighbours lighting and laughing at you from the upstairs window?

Better pour yourself another wine, sweetie. You’ll need it.

The question should be simply “why do I go out with men”?

It’s pretty simple - you’re not one.

I mean, look at you, grovelling there on the floor in your stockings and the ridiculous frilly dress, with the and ribbons!

Do you honestly think any woman could look at a pathetic, effeminate little queer like you as ANY kind of man?

You’re pitiful.

….oh yes, I can see from the look on your face that you’re wondering if this is your sexy pink miniskirt I’m wearing.

Yes, it is. And they’re your pantyhose as well.

I found them in your room - you do have an a collection of panties, bras, stockings, skirts - even makeup.

I thought, since you like do sneak into my room and dress up in my pantyhose and underwear and skirts, that you wouldn’t mind if I tried on yours….

….oh, don’t look dsp surprised, princess. Of course I know. Do you think a girl doesn’t know when someone’s been rummaging through her lingerie and her wardrobe and trying on her clothes?

Look, princess, your secret’s safe with me.

It’s actually reassuring sharing a house with a transvestite, or sissy, or whatever you call yourself, rather than a real guy.

I know I won’t have you hit on me…and hey, since we’re the same size we can even share each other’s clothes.

Housekeeping - sorry to disturb you.

“You had the “Please makeup my room” sign hung out.

We can come back later if you’re…errr…in the middle of something.

Or do you need help…

…our works manager has all the tools to free you.

He’s often called in fir such situations…men, women…transvestites.