I’ve often remarked as to how, for me at least, there can be days when it has just not been possible to crossdress.  These days can be the odd one or quite a number such as during holidays.  I have also both concluded and have had it suggested to me how important it is to moderate, and I’ve also read other blogs suggesting that when it doesn’t feel right to crossdress, then quite simply don’t.

Holiday time was a break by itself but that combined with how I have felt in the aftermath of recent crossdressing sessions and, well, let’s just say things that life can throw at you,  has conspired to set me on a path which is away from dressing far more often than I have been.   Additionally, for the first time for a long time, I’ve not really even been thinking of crossdressing, planning, shopping, viewing any outfits or clothing on line, working out what I might wear and when etc.  It just doesn’t seem to matter that much these days.

I have instead applied myself to the working day, morning ablutions, other jobs that need to be done or merely things that I either want to do and/or am more motivated to do, and I’ve even enjoyed lie-ins on a working day where ordinarily, I’ve been up very early where home alone, getting dressed in an outfit of preference and getting before the webcam – only there’s been far, far less of that of late – over the last few weeks anyway.

As I said, holiday time was a factor but mindset has definitely been the other way anyway.  No planning, no craving, no frustration because I couldn’t crossdress or longing for the next time – virtually none of that.

Having said that, there was the odd exception which, one could argue, blotted my copy book over the last week.   Up and about, still  in my PJs but with the bed made and an opportunity to get to work, instead, I merely thought that I would pull on an outfit onto my recently waxed body and, yes, you’ve guessed it, put myself before my webcam.

However, for this session, fate conspired because it was extremely quiet, little attention on either site of choice although I did strike up a conversation firstly with one far too rude and demanding person and then another less so in a private session.  But I was in no mood to concede to every single request – although some people can be so rude and not so much request things, more so demand them.  I don’t appreciate that sort of behaviour at all.

Advising the other party that I would have to get off to work,  and with their expectation that I would be back on line the following morning to continue where, in their mind, we might have left off, I disciplined myself, signed off, undressed from my red lacy basque, g-string, stockings and heels and got myself off to work, albeit late and using another form of transport – damn you crossdressing!

And that was really how the week went on until a somewhat casual and ultimately borderline decision to crossdress one morning last weekend, not because I really needed to, not because I had planned to or wanted to but more so, because I thought, in the spur of the moment, why the hell not?   Time was NOT on my side though.  The house was empty, but I’d already had a rather nice lie in, without any thoughts of crossdressing, no planning etc as detailed above.

I busied myself having dressed in the blue version of the same red outfit I referred to above, but instead, did plenty of jobs that needed doing whilst I breezed around the upper levels of the house – however, I told myelf that I could treat myself if everything was done.

I tided a few things up, made the bed, put some clothes away, tidied my office etc.  It was nice – it was dressing time for me and I satisfied myself within that this was control, something I’ve referred to many times, and doing something solely for me.

As I said, time was NOT on my side, and I really did know that.  But I was watching the clock and I was listening out for every single vehicle noise, several comings and goings having nothing to do with me, merely passers by and local residents going about their business.  By this time, I’d done everything that I wanted to do and decided to put myself before the web cam once more – almost as a ‘treat’ for doing so well earlier in the morning I suppose?!

I reached a point where I said to myself that should be it, and I really should undress, pack up and return to civvies – but I didn’t.  Still the clock meandered its way dangerously towards that benchmark time when I knew that I would no longer be home alone.  I pushed it about as far as I could push it and some and I was on the cusp of sorting myself out.   Suddenly, the sound of a slowing engine and road noise from outside made me dart for the window and a brief glimpse though the curtains.   Sure enough, members of the family had returned, but there I was, fully dressed, blue lacy basque, g-string, seamed blue stockings and heels.

S**T!  This was it – this really  was ‘it’.  Somewhere deep inside, whilst I was in a frantic state of panic, a reboot kicked in, a contingency back up plan that even I didn’t seem to know about that went into full pelt – I was on auto-pilot – it really was as if I was watching myself do everything.   That auto-pilot saw me fathom that the best way to get such an outfit off was from the top down, and to hell with the suspenders and stockings – everything was to all intents and purposes, torn off.

Down came the shoulder straps, down came the basque, down came the stockings and the g-string seemed to just come with it.  The heels were flung into a wardrobe, the outfit in the deepest recesses of the cupboard in which it is usually carefully kept albeit, right now, in a crumpled state, me wondering within whether I’d wrecked those blue stockings that had been hard to come by.  I dismissed the concern – it was not important in those frantic moments.

The delayed return to the house up the drive by the others allowed me precious seconds to clear the decks, pull on a T-shirt, undies and jeans – I was due out shortly anyway – and unlocked the door, making sure that the panic had been washed from my face.  I must have done so suitably as I entered into banter and greetings whilst dashing back upstairs to pull on a pair of socks.

Reasoning that the group downstairs was busy settling itself back in, I took the time to retrieve the heels from my wardrobe and return them to where they should be – in the wife’s.  I even had time to retrieve the crumpled outfit, straighten it all out, detach the stockings from the suspenders from which they still dangled, folded everything back up neatly and stored it neatly away.  However, returning to the man cave, I realised that the g-string was still on the floor, floundering but rich for discovery.  I remedied the situation quickly.

I then exhaled with relief several times in the immediate aftermath and again at various points throughout the rest of the day, and remonstrated with myself as I went about my business of the afternoon.  That was the closest call I’ve ever had to when I actually was caught some years back yet remain here to tell the tale.   I had been lucky this time with no confrontation as I undressed, just total panic and action which luckily, did go in my favour.  Whilst the warning was clear enough, it only served, at least for now, to steer me away from crossdressing – though not entirely.  I am still receptive to crossdressing but not driven – it would be escapism from everything else raging through my life at the moment, some of it being very difficult to deal with.

I have given serious consideration to using the marginal time before work this week to box up the lingerie, retrieve the breast forms and store it all away in the loft – not a purge, just a pause.  Lessons learned from all the £s worth of lovely outfits purged repeatedly over the years. The thought to gather and store has occurred daily this week so far, yet something has stopped me from doing that.

Up and about this morning, on a straight and narrow path, and planning nothing more but the ablutions, the packed lunch, the workday attire, I suddenly had another of those ‘why the hell not?’ moments.  Instead though, I ignored the question, busied myself in other quite ordinary ways, until I set off for work – conscience clear – lingerie left from where it had been so recently frantically stored, the situation healing as the week has drawn on.

It could have been oh so different.   Only it wasn’t.