A quick look at my social media DM in box resulted in quite a bit of scrolling back through a mix of conversations that went back as far as four years.

Some of them were the highly irritating one word introduction of just ‘Hi’ which I’ve never been a fan of nor ever responded.

Let’s be honest. It’s not the best way to open dialogue with someone in any situation- in person or otherwise.

In the case of my DM inbox, which is always open, I would much prefer a little more elaboration about what instigated the approach for starters. Perhaps some people are naturally shy and nervous? I get that.

Anyway, I did delete/leave a number of threads that never went anywhere but I very much value, retained and will retain those exchanges that were lengthy and detailed.

One of the oldest threads brought one of earliest and most tentative cross dressing moments back to me that I had completely forgotten but had told someone about.

This was long before the instance when I was inadvertently caught in a state of cross dress after the significant other had come home suddenly – a short time after going out – and I had gone into a blind panic, more or less tearing the outfit off, then the stockings but that one had been left dangling off a foot.

The short story is that had I instantly strategised the whole situation despite everything crashing down around me, and offered a credible and standing reason why which I won’t go into here and that was that.

I can consider myself very lucky that history was not recalled and that two and two was NOT together with four clearly calculated.

That historical moment recalled so vividly from that four year old, arguably archived DM thread must have occurred many years before that and from a time in which I was clearly but covertly crossdressing but in the very early days when everything involved dipping into the drawer I shouldn’t theoretically have been in and that was it.

So, accepting that it was long before the traumatic events of being caught in a state of partial cross dress, here is what was brought flooding back to me from that old DM exchange.

Long ago, it was just another day in the household, before kids came along probably. The significant other had been sitting on the settee/sofa/couch (delete as applicable) with me and my flame of kink had been burning deep within.

I left the room, went upstairs, stripped off and put on a suspender belt, stockings and g-string, pulled my jeans and t-shirt back on and returned, probably very quickly, back to sit closely by her.

It was probably quite a few minutes later -me waiting and anticipating – when she casually put a loving hand on the leg that was nearest to her and felt the suspender strap under the material.

She might have asked what it was and I might have told her but I really can’t remember.

Anyway, I was anticipating, no, perhaps desperately hoping for a positive, interested and encouraging response to opening up my kinks to her and then, who knows what? What I actually might have expected was an explosive, negative and angry response. What I actually got was a quiet, calm, measured but brief request to “Go and take it off and don’t do that again”. I duly complied and that was the end of that as far as she was concerned.

I suppose that key moment in my life set the tone and direction that my indulgences would then take, i.e., officially taboo, not allowed, but unofficially, internally, personally, so desired that a covert strategy would have to more strategically applied for all of it to happen going forward. The only way was in, down and darker.

Had the response been favourable, who knows where I would have been? By now, a in very deep FLR relationship perhaps?

My attempts to share my inner most desires were probably already known to be futile in my head because “vanilla” is very much the description when it comes to matters of sexuality for her. There are clean and clear boundaries – walls within which there are windows to see things safely from behind them but merely observationally. (I’m accepting of all of that and always have been. Everyone is different but that’s not to say you can’t be changed – I’m a case in point!)

Examples of observation from within a safe zone would, in my opinion, be late night TV documentaries or something she might see on line or read somewhere – very much from inside looking out if you like.

She has innocently watched me change over the years through observing and coming to like my manscaping body waxes.

As I have said before on previous blogs, I didn’t just do it for the benefit of kinks, but also for my own well-being. At my most hirsute, around 8 years ago, I was, as I saw it, akin to a yeti. I was hot, I was sweaty and body waxing solved all of that. But I’m never content at my appearance. I hate the slightest indicators of re-growth and I am at my most confident, happiest and, to be honest, horniest, when I am as hair free as possible. The trouble is, the way my body is and the way my system works coupled with the requirement for a reputable salon to avoid a full body wax in one session due to the risks and legal situation that might arise means I’m very much always a ‘work in progress’.

Anyway, that distant day when I courageously chanced it on the sofa (etc.), coming as close to opening up about my kinks without actually saying anything about it, didn’t pay off.

But the fact that it wasn’t then officially ‘permitted’, green-lit, and that I shouldn’t be doing it in her opinion, probably only meant that I wanted to do it all the more and for what would be many years to come, of more intensity, more sexually, more developmentally, more kinky, and the rest as they say is history.

You can do the maths. 2+2 did not equal 4 back then and still does not. The ability to calculate the sum remains within the number cruncher of life.

DM me sometime! Go further than just “hi’ and see how else you can remind me.