Social pressure (born, raised, and still living in the rural south) dictated my life as I grew. I never had sex with a man until age 55, something I have always regretted. I married, had children...the whole nine yards. I loved being a family man and put my cross-dressing in the back of my mind. When my wife of 35 years died in a car accident, I was devastated. The whole ordeal was horrible but after months of depression, hard drinking, and dark thoughts I decided to finally get rid of my wife’s things. During that period, I had not even gone into our bedroom, I slept in the guest room. I cleaned out her closet, bagging her wardrobe and shoes up for donation. Then I went to her dresser, it was a tiger maple antique I bought her for our tenth anniversary. The jewelry and makeup sitting in front of the mirror were untouched. My emotions were getting the better of me and I considered cancelling the project until another day but, I set my resolve…and I sat down on her dressing chair. My wife’s hair had been thinning a bit for a few years, so she purchased two wigs. And, there they were, on Styrofoam busts, and the busts seemed to be looking at me. As I sat there I picked one up, a lovely ginger red wig and put it on. “Hmm, I need a shave” I thought. I couldn’t grasp why at the moment, but it felt imperative that I shave. I went into the adjoining bath and shaved my face and neck thoroughly. I suddenly realized my hands were shaking with excitement, just as they did so many years ago when I tried on my sisters slip. “Am I going to do this again” I asked myself in the mirror. I knew the answer. “OK, this time I am going to do it right” I looked on one of the shelves and found her depilatory foam, and the shaving cream. Then I lathered up and started shaving. In about twenty minutes I checked my handiwork in the full-length mirror “Not bad for a newbie” I thought. I spread the foam on my chest and legs, waited the time on the package and showered, slowly washing every portion of my body with lavender body wash.
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