Loving a Sissy

The following was submitted by a reader of mine.  Lots to reflect in so few words.

How many of us can relate? 

 

A Love Story

She loved him. More than he knew, more than he ever imagined, so much that she tried to understand his dreams.

From the beginning, from her first discovery that he had been secretly wearing her panties, it wasn’t easy for Monica to accept that the man she married liked to dress up in women’s clothes. He’d tried to hide it from her, but when she found her panty drawer out of order, some panties stretched and one pair torn, she asked.

 

Tom turned away, embarrassed, but answered honestly, eventually admitting that what he’d done was much like what he did as a boy with his mother’s intimate things. There were tears, from him, not her. She wasn’t angry, she was curious. She listened, tried to understand as her six feet two, former college linebacker husband described how he grew up secretly wishing he was a girl.

Eventually he told her everything, told her how  he believed his wishes would go away if he grew strong muscles, learned how to be tough, and married a beautiful woman like her. But it didn’t work. As it turned out, the more he tried to be a man, the more he wanted to wear women’s clothes. It took several discussions over weeks for everything to unfold, but eventually he told her that he kept it all secret because he worried that she’d stop loving him if she knew the truth.

Monica connected the dots. The life they’d been living suddenly made much more sense. Her husband Tom could be wonderfully caring and sensitive, but he could be unpredictably moody, shift into a dark place, and withdraw from her, bury himself in his work. With this new information, she realized that Tom used work to hide from himself, to bury his desires, to turn away from the femininity he was trying to suppress.     

Monica began to give Tom what she understood he needed. Starting small, she replaced all his male underwear with panties. Just like hers, only in his size. He wept when he saw them. After that, he began coming home earlier from the office. Each birthday, anniversary, and Valentine’s Day, she bought him another item of women’s clothing. First it was babydoll pajamas, then a bra, then nylon stockings. Eventually she allowed him to have a conservative skirt and blouse. Whenever he started becoming moody, she laid out some “girl clothes” for him on their bed and he understood that represented her consent for him to be feminine for an evening or a day. They choose a name for Monica to call him during those times: Nancy.

 

It was their secret. Over the years, their friends commented about what a cute couple they were, how in love they seemed to be, how Tom looked at Monica with such devotion in his eyes, how much he did around the house, how much he did for her. They were constant companions, married for over forty years by the time they both retired.

It was never easy for her. She still saw him as the rugged football player she married, but she came to ignore what underwear he wore, and she knew it made him happy. On the Nancy days, her background in theater helped her see it as harmless play-acting. She understood the power of make-believe, and the power of desire. Most of all she understood the meaning of love.

Tom was incredibly happy and loved Monica very, very much. She was the center of his universe and he did whatever he could to make her happy.

 

My special thanks to the reader who submitted this cute little story.

Love,

sissy terrie 💔