Wow.  What a 24-hours.

I have had a Eureka moment.  Why I didn’t think about crossdessing but remaining off-line, I don’t know.  The fact that millions of webcam users (howsoever used) cannot use their devices following a Windows 10 upgrade means that I couldn’t get on-line even if I wanted to as launching the app leads to the blue screen reboot.

Commenting in my last blog, Jenna Badgyrl said things like:

  • …maybe you should allow yourself this treat in moderation? (If it can be moderated of course).’
  • ‘If it’s part of who you are and does no-one else any harm, then it’s hardly a crime, is it?’
  • ‘…the urge would always be there to take a walk on the wild side, so why not let it out from time to time?’ and;
  • ‘..if you decide to make a return, maybe just stay off the webcam’

The combined stresses of everyday life peaked over the weekend and having more than mulled over what Jenna said, I reflected on the key words ‘moderation’, ‘urge’, ‘why not’ and ‘stay off the webcam’, the latter resonating like a cathedral bell at full pelt.

The most powerful draw of the lot was the webcam.  I’d dress, lock myself away in the man-cave, set up, begin broadcasting and nine times out of ten, things would heat up to such a peak, and on occasion, I would be bordering on or involved in such debauchery and end up wracked with guilt.  So much so that in November 2015, I vowed to stop it and be what I said at the time was ‘a better person’.   If I couldn’t moderate, it had to go.

My blogs have repeated this many times, but I’ll say it again here.  Until November 2015, nothing else mattered.  I was addicted at every available hour of the day (other than the odd occasions where I’d go out with lingerie on underneath) I was always on-line.   First thing in the morning, evenings, weekends – all with that webcam running.  It was clearly that activity that pushed me to somewhere that, retrospectively, I didn’t want to go.

Then came that Eureka moment on my blog comments this week.  Why didn’t I think of this before?  Why didn’t I think about crossdressing discreetly – for me, my time – enjoying my passion? Sure, there are and have been sexual kicks but also because I love how it feels and makes me feel.  Relaxed.  Calmer.  More controlled, more rational somehow.  It is my release, my escape.

So to this morning.  I’ll say no more than the fact that it had been a rough night and my emotions were all over the place due to the stresses of work and everyday life.  In retaliation, my mind wandered very firmly towards the loving, welcoming open arms of crossdressing.

Head spinning, I set off to work this morning and found myself on the well trodden path of walking past the home & hardware store where I knew the stockings were waiting for me.  It is a large shop frontage with many ways to get in and I must have stalled on going in at least a dozen times in those few steps.   Somehow my legs carried me on and past the shop and onto work.  Whilst managing partial disappointment, I calmly told myself that even if I purchased there and then, they’d only be in the bottom of my work bag.  I vowed that I would use the day to consider everything from A-Z in more depth.  There was actually little left to consider.

I could crossdress.  It is what I am. I am a crossdresser and have been for years.  But I’m not a bad person because of it.   I have long been wracked with guilt that I am somehow decieving my wife and family and keeping a ‘dirty little’ secret from them, but whilst that is perhaps true, there is absolutely no way that anything could be any different, i.e. there is no opening up about it – that is clear to me after I was caught undressing in a hurry after the wife came home suddenly but, the long and the short of that never-to-be-forgotten moment of horror is that I managed to find my way out of the situation and a divorce and bitter separation.  My wife does not, and would not tolerate even the merest thought of crossdressing – of that I know – and because of how I was, does not suspect.

But it is clear that crossdressing is for me. I have always yearned for it, even if I told myself I wasn’t actually going to do it.   Crossdressing is my time.

I know fully why I stopped back in November last year. I couldn’t control my crossdressing and could only contemplate actively exhibiting myself on-line – tittilating others more than treating myself – on virtually every occasion.  I have reflected that even since November 2015, I’ve regularly looked at crossdressing erotica, videos, pictures, lingerie stores, other crossdresser blogs etc. on a fairly regular basis.  I was everything a crossdresser is except an actual crossdresser I guess.

Everybody and everything else paled into insignificance for most of the time I was crossdressing.  Other things didn’t get done and if I did start some general PC work, it’d usually be whilst dressed and waiting for people to start viewing and interacting with my web cam stream.

Sure, I loved it when people were turned on by what they saw, how I cavorted, changed outfits and openly chatted – particularly when a woman started to watch.  Even since I stopped crossdressing, I’ve still been on cam albeit in just my everyday g-strings – as if that was some sort of near-as-damn-it alternative.

Eureka.  Dwelling and having dwelled on the now blatantly obvious suggestion made by Jenna, I had the opportunity to finish work early today although the day had not gone smoothly by any shadow of the imagination.  In between the mundane tasks, I had agonised with my thoughts which were, at times, a mess, lacking direction and clarity and at other times, a distraction from trying to get my work done.

However, for the first time in a long time, I felt the butterflies of anticipation and excitement building up in my stomach.   My heart felt like it was racing.  Frankly, there was to be no stopping me this time.  This was a landmark moment and the adrenaline ran at full pace within.

The return walk to the public transport connection was already mapped out, and time was fairly quick to pass by from the office desk to the store aisle.  I made a bee-line for the stockings which were pulled off the rail in their compact box, put into the basket, checking to make sure they were most defintely what I wanted (to avoid being disappointed later), and joined in the basket by some everyday essentials, I was soon out through the checkout with no regrets, no guilt whatsoever.  Only mild elation.  I really was doing this!

I managed to get an early connection home which, quite simply, made for more dressing time at home I smugly celebrated.   As if I had never stopped crossdressing and as it used to be, I had planned what I would wear first and was very quickly changed.

As I write this, I have worn not one, not two but three outfits, the stockings being the showpiece adorning my long slender, albeit slightly hairy (for the time being) legs.

I nipped out for a few moments on an errand, covered up in a t-shirt, jeans, socks and fleece, but returned home to change out of one outfit into another, writing a few paragraphs of this blog before minimising the window and changing into my favourite of all – the finale.

Sure. I convinced myself that the webcam wouldn’t work due to the Windows 10 upgrade by signing in to the site of my choice and launching the webcam only for it to go to the blue screen once more.  I used the reboot time merely to change outfits again but nevertheless covered up once the dressing was complete.

There.  I have applied control – moderation if you like.  I have crossdressed for the first time in a long time.  I have enjoyed it and I have somewhat triumphantly it seems – returned.   I suppose I should thank the computer programmers for their undoubtedly unintended help in scuppering any web cam plans, but I must also thank Jenna for her contribution to helping Gerry Lynn find a way forward and flourish once more.

Now it is all about that control I need to apply….that I must now do, particularly whilst web cams remain completely out of bounds.  It’s good to be back.   This is whole new chapter of recovery for the recovering crossdresser.

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