In this blog i am going to tell you the story of my life as a closet (mostly) crossdresser This may go on for a long time, after all I am 66 years old now) and entries may be sporadic. Fell free to contact me with comments at kelly.obrian @ hotmail,com.

As shown in my details i am a submissive crossdresser, bi sexual, who craves abuse and humiliaton. Please send me ideas about how you would like to abuse and humiliate me. I would love to hear from you and hear comments on my pictures. I will be posting more as time goes on. Fantasies are my hobby and I will be happy to reciprocate if desired.

So about my sissy life, my very first memories of crossdressing involve prowling through my mother's closets and trying on her clothing. I must have been around 11 or 12 years old when I started. I was (am still am) fascinated by girdles and restrictive clothing. 

As I grew older I started baby sitting for neighbors and after the children were in bed I would spend hours prowling through ladies closets and dresser drawers, looking for sexy (to me) underthings, negligees, girdles, the occasional garter belt. As I grew bolder I would often try on their clothing and pose in the mirror. Sometime I would find high heeled shoes that I could get on. I recall one woman in particular who had the most amazing and restrictive girdles and corsets, lots of straps and laces. She was not particularly attracitive, but I loved her girdles.

I kept a small notebook (lost long ago) where I listed the ladies names and the various articles of clothing I had tried on. At that point in my life I was aroused enough by that simple list to masturbate. Of course I would usually masturbate while I was wearling the ladies clothing as well. God, if only we had a dollar for every time we jerked off!

One lady I remember fondly, Betty Jones, was my favorite. She was a very attractive brunette with a nice figure and even then, before I even understood my particular fetishes and desires, I would fantisize about her catching me wearing her clothes and forcing me to dress fully as a woman. I wore he panties and bras, garter belts and stockings, a lacy white blouse with her intitials on the breast and a short plaid skirt. Also several black negligees. I would lay on the bed dressed in these silky negligees and fantasize about being raped. 

Well, I did get cought, one of Mrs. Jone's boys caught me dressed in his mothers clothes. I tried to make a joke about it and swore him to secrecy. Of coure the little bastard told his mother. The next time I baby sat she said as she was paying me "I understand you looked cute in my clothes the other night."  I was mortified and scared to death, I mumbled something and fled the scene. For weeks I was scared she would call my parents,that fear alternating with incredible fantasies about her calling me back and forcing me to fully dress, even enlisting help from another neighbor, the red headed Mrs. S. who I lusted after. Mrs. Jones never called me back again.

 Speaking of Mrs. S, she was one of two neighbors that I targeted for rape, but never quite followed through. By now I was 15 or 16 and a horny little bastard. I was delusional enough top assume that the ladies would welcome my sexual advances once I had forced myself on them and shown them how enjoyable it would be. Is that the thought process of a boderline psycopath? Thankfully I never found out. My attemt at Mrs. S. came to an end before it started, I slipped into their open garage, planning to knock and overpower her when she oened the door. Just as I was about to knock I heard a baby cry cry! What the hell? There was no baby here! She has company. I ran like the wind.

 The other time I approached the back door of Mrs. H. A very attractive blond whom I also lusted after. I had baby sat there one time when they were at my parents house and had been wearing her black pantie girdle and a bra when the phone rang. It was her mother and she was very suspicious of my story of being a baby sitter. Anyway, I went to Mrs. H's back door and knocked again planning on overpowering and assulting her. She opened an upstairs window and asked what I wanted! Drat, foiled again! (Thank God). I mumbled some lame excuse and slunk away. Guess I can only thank my lucky stars that I never followed through either time. Are teenage boys stupid or what?