Forgive me, as it has been over a month since my last confession.

September proved that I can knuckle down and focus on work, tasks, and normative suburban heterosexual busy-ness.  It was indeed busy, and I behaved myself with the sobriety of a judge, with only a few exceptions.  

I'm now sitting at the airport departure gate at a Faraway City, waiting for a jet to take me home from a business trip.  The busy spell is over.  I'm somewhat proud - well, relieved is a more correct term - that I can pretend to be normal when necessary, at least for a while.  It's time to celebrate my steely resolve.  In a somewhat joyous coincidence, my wife will be away almost from the time of my return.  She's heading off to visit family, and I will have the better part of four days alone at home.  This bears repeating:  I WILL HAVE NEARLY FOUR DAYS ALONE AT HOME!

When I packed for this trip, I was still in Upstanding Citizen mode, and elected to not pack any sissy duds.  Besides, my wife helped me pack, and I remain slightly abashed at letting her see me indulge my inner slut.  

I didn't think it would be an issue.  I should explain that I can usually keep The Pink Fog under control if I ensure that I cum at least every day or two.  It has something to do with regulating hormones, but I'm not a doctor.  The flip side is that if I don't cum for a while, I begin to feel stirrings of sissy cravings build inside.  Once I realized that I would be returning home to an unexpected bonanza of time alone, I decided to stack the deck by imposing chastity upon myself until I got home.  Predictably, the Pink Fog reached toxic levels within a few days.  Last night - my final evening on the road - things got out of hand, and I went to the mall and bought myself some "emergency sissy supplies," consisting of a new nighty, garter belt, stockings and...three new pairs of sexy high heels!  Wahoo!  Gurls, if you've ever tried to shop for Size 12 heels in retail stores, you'll know my excitement.

Anyway, I was dressed and so jazzed with Pink Fog last night that I didn't sleep a wink.  In fact, I'm still dressed under my boi clothes as I travel home.  (Oh, and yes, TSA still requires us to remove our shoes at airport security, and yes, a guy wearing fully-fashioned stockings does raise a few eyebrows.)  I'll be home in about two hours.  

My Cunning Master Plan has monopolized my thoughts for days.  To tell the truth, the plan is rather wooly.  I have lots of weed, some nice new clothes, a hard drive full of hypno files, and for a chance, time on my hands.  I plan to get more stoned than I've ever been, and to stay that way for the entire time.  I'll probably do some dumb shit, like walking around the neighbourhood fully dressed in the middle of the night.  I may try to bake some weed cookies.  We'll see.

Stay tuned to this Sissy Station for breaking news...

/H