I won’t deny it – thoughts have been turning to crossdressing again of late – albeit nothing specific, merely that the subject matter is washing around more towards the forefront of my thoughts. I have made no plans to begin again, but I will confess to having been on-line on my web cam site of choice, and making an acquaintance with two new sex toys – that’s four I now have – these two being the impulsive purchases of prostate massagers, one battery driven, the other being a rubberised sort of thing that you have to fit your tackle through various points once inserting the main element somewhere rather pleasant it turns out.
The fumbling around to insert the watch style batteries into the vibrating massager and the hurry to reassemble and get on with its use led to a conclusion that the batteries weren’t up to much, seemingly running out way ahead of when I thought they should have done. It turns out that the item is able to work at varying speeds merely by turning the top as well as pressing the button on the end and I’d got this completely mixed up. Lubed up and ready, it was replaced by the more cumbersome rubberised item which I find rather kinky with everything inserted and the item clamped on below.
Not at my best at the moment, probably caused by a failure to take one’s regular vitamin supplement and a period in which I was spending too much time walking around the house naked with and without the other half present, I made myself no better by blatantly displaying heady sexual exploration on my webcam.
This had not been the first time I’d used the manual prostate massager – somewhat of an OCD nature, I had already sneaked it into the shower, and with a house full, lubed up and tried it out for a few moments on the day of receipt, This only led to the web cam session referred to above.
That aside, regular readers of my blog entry will know that I last crossdressed in March – life experiences and, let’s say, perhaps more rational thoughts led to the lingerie, breast forms and stockings being stored away so remotely, even I would find it difficult to get to things once stored.
All I would need is a reason to have to go to the remote storage facility and that is exactly what happened this week. Once inside, this cold, dark location needed light from the poorest of light fittings and the torch on my smartphone. Teetering amongst the other random items, equally randomly stored, I made a bee-line for THAT location.
It is quite ridiculous, but I knew where the items were, I knew what was in the boxes, but the obsessive compulsive in me just had to take a look. Under torch light, the breast forms box came open. The first one spotted was lying nipple side down, but I just had to flip it over for what was, to be fair, the merest of glances otherwise. It wasn’t long before I’d satisfied my obsessive compulsive nature in that instance and the box was shut more or less as quickly as it had been opened.
Next, the other box – the one in which the lingerie was stored. Having opened the flaps, there, stored just as I had left them of course, in the cold, in the dark, and with a misty haze caused by my breath in the cold air, were the red and blue basques. The suspender straps were the most obvious draw to my eye sight but I could also see what I thought was a pink outfit. Did I still have a pink outfit?
It mattered little – there was to be no touching of the fabric – just a look and with little more than 10-20 seconds having passed, then box was folded shut again and both boxes were stored back further away from where they had been placed before – as if that meant anything at all.
There was to be little more thought about the dalliance with life up to March of this year in the immediate aftermath as the storage facility was closed up once more. What on earth drove me to look? I didn’t have to. I could have just grabbed the things I needed, walked out, closed and locked the door behind me and left. This was the obsessive compulsive taking priority of place, but to this very moment, I do not know why I did it or what I hoped to achieve out of it but in those brief moments, in that short window of opportunity, I just had to do it. It seemed to tick a box somehow.
However, much as I’ve said before, eye candy can prove to be a terrible draw and things continued to wash around my head. The other morning, I had cause to visit my tried and trusted home and hardware store, which, it turned out, has had a move round.
Things are no longer where they used to be. ‘Good’ thought I. I’ve merely got to follow the signs, find the toiletries that I need and head for the till. However, things were to conspire, as, on the way to the till, I spotted the new location for the tights and stockings out of the corner of my eye, the crossdresser within more than supressed but still capable. “Damn you – DAMN YOU”, I said to myself but I determinedly strode towards the till and made my way out and onwards.
As I said, by having a need to venture to the storage facility recently, I had a good reason, an almost irresistible reason to take a reminiscing glance at my past, with no idea as to why I was doing it. I said in a previous blog that if the items were far enough away and difficult to get to, there could not be temptation of any kind.
Late to sleep last night and early to rise, not at my best and with another peak of sexual euphoria beginning to build, an awakening if you like, I didn’t really sleep well. At one point, lying there in bed in the dead of night, I found myself with no reason as to why I couldn’t start crossdressing again, almost looking forward to that first dressing opportunity with relish and a longing, then eventually finding enough rationality of mind to get some more sleep. At another point in the night, I was trying to recall how and where I used to hide my breast forms back in the da without them being discovered – I could not, for the life of me, remember, and desperately tried to recall the facts, before remonstrating with myself that they hadn’t been discovered, wherever they had been placed and that they were now more safely stored away – admittedly, now more fresh to my mindset through the recent sneaky peak.
So to this morning – an early start, but chance to get on-line and use one of my new toys – but any plans were thwarted by a need to get to the day job, and the fact that, of all inconvenient times, the PC wanted to do one of those irritating updates – so I left it to it, concluding that it offered a reason to get about the day. Having put on and inserted the rubberised prostate massager, I dressed and made for the day job, feeling plugged and clamped below, and looking forward to the day immensely in being this way..
The good news is that, despite insomnia-led night-time urges to resume crossdressing, the waking hours put me not on that track, but on the same one I was one – at least for now. Oh! CD!