Favorite Sissy Part 2

As I explained, Mom was always diplomatic, and she very gently explained that boys don’t wear that kind of clothing, and it isn’t acceptable for me to play games like that. Of course, that left me an escape from my humiliation, because kids are supposed to play games, right? What she didn’t know at the time was that I was already infatuated with cross-dressing. It was no longer a game to me by that time.

But I apologized and promised to stop playing dress-up in her clothes. I was an honest and sensitive child and I did stop stealing her clothes. Of course, I didn’t promise to stop cross-dressing, and I couldn’t have if I had promised. I just had to get clothes as they were discarded. I volunteered for household trash duty. I would secretly rifle through all the trash bins in and around her room looking for any scraps of clothing. It probably took a year, but I eventually had a small collection of discarded female clothes of my own.

The next time I got caught in women’s clothes was a mixture of bad planning and random chance. My parents had gone out for the evening, but my mother had forgotten something and come back home. I was already dressed in a beige pantyhose and an old, white lace full slip when she came into my room to check on me. I must have looked terribly awkward standing there ashamedly in my female things. She didn’t say a word and just shut the door.

Of course, I lost all interest in my crossdressing after that and I quickly put away all my girly stuff. The next day I was helped to purge myself of my secret wardrobe. Then after answering a battery of questions about my “problem”, I was embarrassed enough to actually want to quit cross-dressing.

But the draw of my crossdressing was too intense. I was inventive and persistent, and one day I took an interest in sewing that I practiced whenever I found myself alone. Between that and my trash scrounging, I soon had another adequate stash of girly clothing again.

It was many years after that before I finally got caught again. My father had cheated on my mother a few years before and after much fighting, they had gotten a divorce. Child support kept my mother from spending too much time away from home. I guess all of us kids felt a little guilt over the whole thing, but of course, it wasn’t our fault. Still, we often ended up choosing sides. The other boys liked to spend time with Dad, but I stayed with Mom whenever I could. I think my mother helped me get out of visitations because I was still her favorite. I was always glad to be at home with my feminine things.

Of course, when Mom would be distracted doing chores or relaxing, I would “play” in my room. It was during one of these times that she caught me. I was fifteen. I had dressed up in my favorite shiny, tan dance tights. I had on a lacy pink, sock-filled bra and a filmy pink baby-doll nightie. My favorite part of my outfit was some silky pink baby-girl panties covered with lacy ruffles. I had also found a pair of some fold-down ankle socks with lace around them. I was involved in some acting at school and had learned about makeup and “borrowed” an old wig from the supply of costumes. Using the makeup I’d collected to the best of my unpracticed skills, I was in full female regalia when she walked in.