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Pink Satin Pillows Ch 2, repost

It was the best then worst of times for me, that period of the four years immediately post high school. I hate to use the old saw but it fits so perfectly I am compelled to do so. It was the good, then bad, or worst, and came in sets of three.

When I graduated from high school I went straight to a small university on a full football scholarship. The next two years saw me start, as an OLB, six of the varsity games as a freshman and all of the regular games, plus two post season games in my sophomore year. Academics were challenging but I persevered and made the Deans list each semester. On the outside I was truly blessed. I dated some wonderful young ladies and by my sophomore year had found a steady, who I would marry at the end of our junior year. My cup bubbled over.

But then the second wave hit. At Spring practice I was hit during a live play and blew out my right knee. It was so bad the Doctors felt I might never walk without a cane, forget about football. While I was still recuperating I received word that my parent’s had both been killed in a car accident while driving in the Italian Alps.

My girlfriend became my wife 10 months later, I think because on my part, I was trying to fill voids. Years later I became aware that I had reverted to an old solution for stress management. I didn’t know all that stuff at the time, it took years to understand my inner workings.

To say the least our marriage didn’t work out. After several failures to have sex with my wife (failure to sustain an erection, no ejaculation, less and less amorous arousal) I blurted out all of my well held and well hidden secrets to my wife in a non stop revelation. I needed her to be my Mistress. I needed her to wear satin. I needed her to dress me as her maid and make me do her ironing. I might need an occasional spanking, too. After maybe 30 or 40 minutes of telling her about this “other” set of feelings that seemed to be driving me, she recovered from her shock. The next five minutes came from her and it was as hurtful as anything I had ever heard. She called me names, accused me of deceiving her, marrying her for her families name, position, and money. She concluded that she found my revelations disgusting and in violation of all social and and religious values she cherished and certainly she would have nothing to do with my ilk. She stormed out and a week later I was given the papers annulling our marriage.

But by that time a little light was beginning to flicker in my brain. Not a beacon of hope but a searchlight of warning. I had exposed myself! Someone, an angry someone, knew all about me, my nightly masturbation with a satin pillow, my cross dressing needs, my submissive cravings. All the decadent (her term) behaviors that were housed within me. One word from her to a classmate as to the why of the breakup and I would have to leave school and flee the shame that I knew was to follow.

I had but a few weeks to go to complete my degree, graduate, and escape the deadly trap I had created. With the business degree in hand I could go anyplace, as long as they didn’t know about the other me. It was a difficult decision to make but I decided to gut it out and put my overt toughness in charge of my cartwheeling mind. For sure I was near panic most of the time since I had kept sissy in the closet, since sissy had made itself known to me at age 8 or 10. Plus, as I had gotten ahead in my overt life the gap between the two worlds had widened considerably.

There were times when sissy tried to surface at the darnedest times, like imagining my clothes falling off revealing a satin sissy maid uniform while giving a presentation in class on some project. Most folks who noticed the beads of sweat thought it was just simply nervousness, which it was but for reasons beyond their wildest imagination. Of course I didn’t wear such a costume under my outer “jock” wear, but my mind didn’t care when it came to terrorizing me.

But after the marriage failure, sissy began to surface more and more. You see, all along I had figured this strange fantasy would simply go away when I got married, that it was some childhood device that no one spoke about. This was why I never considered telling my wife before we married. This helped me get by day to day with the gap between my public side and the sissy side that I tried to keep in the closet. I had never examined this sissy persona up to this point, but since it had not gone away and had interfered with my marriage I could no longer ignore the characteristics that made up this part of my personality. It was a major part of me and I needed to learn what made it tick.

Once I had graduated I was off to the East Coast as quickly as I could get the car running. I even had all my belongings packed in the car as Pomp and Circumstances was playing. I was headed to a new business venture that I had jumped on, one that was full of promise and risk. Something to bury myself in and put as much distance between my ex wife and any possible further exposure. I felt free but a bit confused about sissy, as I was now allowing the questions of who, what, and why to surface. I would spend the next seven or eight years exploring this part of me.’
What an interesting world the sissy part of ourselves are born into. Thanks for sharing this first part of your journey.
(05-22-2020, 02:52 AM)sgbf Wrote: What an interesting world the sissy part of ourselves are born into. Thanks for sharing this first part of your journey.
Thanks for your comments. We are, as a group, the rule breakers of the bdsm world, me thinks.

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