Tis the season when almost every “in the closet” crossdresser faces the question he can’t answer honestly. Actually, for many of us the question is asked twice a year. What do you want for Christmas? What do you want for your birthday? How do you tell your unknowing wife that instead of a new pair of pajamas you really want a baby doll nightie? How do you tell your mother that instead of more boxers and t-shirts you want a lacy bra and panty set? How do you tell your girlfriend you would like her to get the two of you matching hers and yours teddies? Those of you who have understanding and supportive wives, parents, girlfriends or boyfriends are very lucky indeed. The rest of us are sure to experience some disappointment when opening gifts. Tis the season for frustration.

On the edge of the town where I grew up there was a fairly large tract of unfenced woods. It was probably several square miles in area. I used to get on my bicycle and ride there and wander around in the woods. I have always loved being in the outdoors, although I have never hunted or been fisherman. I just loved being out among the trees. On the very edge of these woods there was an old house that I passed as I went to the woods. It was not within sight of any other houses or buildings. I'm pretty sure it was rented out.

One day as I was riding past I notices that the door was open, some of the windows were broken out, and there was stuff scattered around the yard. It looked like it had been abandoned and trashed. Naturally, as any normal kid my age would do, I decided to check it out. Sure enough, all the furniture had been removed and the stuff that had been left behind was just thrown around inside and out. What got my heart racing was that among the stuff that had been tossed around was clothes -- women's clothes and underwear. Not only that, it seemed clear they would fit me. It was a young CD's dream find. I knew I had to be careful because I could not be sure when someone else might come along. I quickly scouted around and collected a bra, a slip, several pair of panties, and a pair of stockings. Putting my finds in a paper bag i found I headed off into the woods.

Once I was deep in the woods I found a grassy area among the trees, and after checking to make sure I could not see or hear anyone, I stripped naked. But of course I wasn't naked long. First came the panties. Then the bra. I stuffed the bra cups with panties to fill them out. The stockings were the old fashioned kind that needed garters to hold them up, and I hadn't found a garter belt, but I put them on even though they kept sliding down. Finally, I slipped the slip over my head. I was in naughty CD boy heaven. It was most dressed up I had ever had a chance to be. I was dressed completely in women's undies. I posed, even though I didn't have a mirror, I pranced, I danced and spun around. And then of course I lay on the ground, pulled my slip up and my panties down, and masturbated. I don't remember, but I am sure it was a great cum.

And then I realized I had to be getting home. I took off my treasures, put them back in the paper bag, put my boy clothes back on, and headed back to where I had left my bicycle. As I passed the old house I realized I could not think of a way to get the bag into the house without my mother seeing it and I did not have a good hiding place. And then I did something really stupid! I thought, I'll just leave the things here, figure out a safe plan for hiding them at home, and pick them up in a few days. So I did. Wrong move. When I came back a few days later, the old house had been bulldozed and everything had been hauled away. There wasn't so much as a pair of panties to be seen.

I've never encountered such a treasure trove since then.

Dumb me!!!

I like to wear women's lingerie. So some would call me crossdresser. But I don't really think that term quite describes me. In fact, I don't think any of the terms that are sometimes used to describe guys who like to wear women's clothing really apply to me. I'm not a transsexual because I do not want to be a woman nor do I think I was born into the wrong body. For many years I did not want to think of myself as a sissy boy because I think of myself as masculine. And I'm not a panty boy because I like much more than panties and I'm certainly no longer a boy. Of the terms that might apply, crossdresser and transvestite probably come closest, but neither is really right. I have no interest in presenting myself as a woman or of passing. The fact that I have a beard and all my natural body hair rules that out. Also, I've never been into wigs or shoes or makeup or women's outerwear. Really I'm just a guy who likes women's lingerie and sleepwear -- bras, panties, slips, teddys, nightgowns, baby doll nighties, and the like -- what is often termed intimate apparel. I love the contrast between seeing, or thinking about, a masculine guy wearing pretty, feminine undies. Basically, I have a lingerie fetish that I like to express by wearing lingerie. So clearly for me wearing lingerie is sexual thing. I am still turned on by lingerie, at least as much as I can be given my medical situation. So, after many years of rejecting the term, I have finally accepted that I am really a sissy.

Like many of us here my love of dressing started young. But my introduction was a little different from most I have read about.

Where did this fascination with lingerie come from. For many guys with a lingerie fetish it started when they were rather young. For me, the start came when I was about 6 years old and I can remember the exact event. It was summer. My mother had to have surgery and I was staying with my aunt and uncle. The families who lived on either side of them had boys the same age as me, so we played together a lot. Johnny had a sister who was a year or two older than him. One day we were playing in Johnny's room upstairs in his house and only his grandmother was a home to watch us. Johnny's sister was away with her friends. His grandmother had a hard time getting around and wasn't able to get up the stairs. So we were three 6-year-olds playing completely unsupervised. I don't remember what we were playing at, it doesn't really matter. We weren't getting into any trouble. Then, out of the blue, Johnny said something like, "stay here and keep quite, I have a secret to show you." Then he left. A few minutes later he came back in the room. He was wearing a slip and pair of panties that belonged to his sister -- nothing else. They were white cotton and trimmed with a little lace and little pink bows -- the kind of thing that 8 year old girls wore with their nice dresses in 1949 or 1950. Since I don't have sisters I had never seen anything like those panties and that slip, but right then I knew I liked them. I'm not sure if any of us said anything, but Johnny spent a few minutes dancing and prancing around in his sister's undies. He flipped up the front of the slip so the other two of us could see the panties, he flipped up the back. He spun around. And then he left. In a few minutes he came back in his boy clothes. The three of us went back to whatever it was we had been doing. The show never happened again and nothing was ever said. But I was changed in those few minutes. I wanted to be the boy who was wearing the slip and panties. I don't know why. At the age of six it wasn't a sexual thing, at least for me. But it was naughty. It was something Johnny was not supposed to have done, and it was something that the other two of us were not supposed to have seen. We had all been bad boys. Later of course, as I got older, reached puberty, and began to learn about sex, the idea of wearing girls underwear (I did not know the word lingerie at that age) clearly took on an erotic and sexual meaning. It has lasted 70 years.

Do you remember the ads in the Sears catalog? Almost every issue would have at least on page featuring a group of teen girls or “young juniors” having a slumber party, with them all decked out on cute baby doll nighties. Did you think how much fun it would be to have a sissy slumber party where we got to wear those cute nighties. Like the girls we would have talked about boys, shown off our pretty lingerie, and practiced kissing. But unlike the girls we would have been lucky enough to have practiced giving blow jobs, learned to swallow, and maybe even lost our virginity. But would that have counted since it would ave been with another sissy, not a real man. Ah, the things we missed out on.