Closet Cross Dresser

Copyright Oggbashan September 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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I'm a secret cross dresser. I get sexually aroused by being dressed as a woman and restrained like that. My wife Angela knows that I like being trussed up as a woman and has known since before we became engaged. She doesn't object but my preference does nothing for her.

"John," Angela had said, "I don't mind you being Joan when you feel you need to, but I married you as John."

Except for one aspect. Whenever we make love I am usually naked. I can delay ejaculation until she has satisfied herself. When I do, she knows that she can do something to make me end at a time that suits her. What she does is to cover my face with an item of her feminine clothing. When she does that, I can't last more than a few seconds more, particularly if that item has her perfume on it. A skirt, a waist slip, panties, or most effective of all, her large bra cup pressed over my face to smother me, induce an instant response.

Angela accepts that I need to cross dress sometimes but prefers it if she is not around. I don't want to be a woman, or appear to be a woman outside our house. I just want the sexual excitement of being helpless tied up dressed as a woman. Most times she knows that I will do it when she is out. I will dress myself in my female clothes with fake breasts and a wig and self-bind myself. Usually I can release myself when I am satisfied and be a man by the time she returns. Once or twice my self-binding has gone wrong and become inescapable. Angela has had to untie me when she returns. I find that even more arousing than being in bonds I can escape from. If Angela would tie me up when I am cross-dressed that would be heaven, but although she accepts my need she doesn't want to be involved - except to release me when she has to.

My usual cross dress session starts with me fitting a condom before a full length control garment under which I have the breast forms. I adjust the shoulder straps and then close the long front zip. That garment presses against my erection. I wear pantyhose and tie more around my ankles and knees, put on a knee length slip and a dress or top and pencil skirt. I put the wig on my head, tie my legs together with pantyhose around the skirt, and gag myself with a pair of Angela's used panties held in with a long silk scarf. The last part is the most difficult. I tie my arms and wrists with something - rope, a scarf, pantyhose and sometimes I pull a girdle up around my arms. I have to tie myself up so I am helpless but able to release myself when I am satisfied.

Angela doesn't mind that I gag myself with her used panties. She knows I like them because they are hers, and to a certain degree when bound as Joan I am thinking that I am Angela's helpless victim. She doesn't see Joan as a rival and accepts that I use her panties because I love Angela and want to be restrained by her. As long as I return her panties to the laundry pile, and don't use her washed ones, she's content.

One evening I was trying a new girdle when my plans went wrong. The girdle, unlike the others, was longer and had shoulder straps. I eased it down with my fingertips until my arms were completely covered and the girdle was inside the waist band of the pencil skirt I was wearing. Although there had been some resistance for the last few inches I had thought lifting up that girdle would be easy. From my sitting position I swung my legs up on to the settee and pretended to struggle as a helplessly bound woman until I reached my climax. I relaxed, contented, and enjoyed my predicament. I had about an hour before Angela was due to return, plenty of time to release myself and appear as a man again.

I thought it was about time to make myself a cup of coffee. I struggled to a sitting position and tried to raise the lower edge of the girdle. It wouldn't move. The outer part of the girdle had stuck to the waistband of the skirt as if they were Velcro. I tried to wriggle my fingers around to reach the back zip of the pencil skirt. I couldn't, because the zip was outside the waistband and I couldn't get my fingers out. I tried to move my hands up to the top of the girdle, I couldn't. My hands and arms were too tightly held by the girdle's elastic mesh. I tried to slide the shoulder straps off my shoulders by rubbing against the settee. Those shoulder straps were as tightly stuck to the top as the bottom was stuck to the waistband.

I was helplessly bound and restrained as Joan and no amount of wriggling gave me any way of escape. Perhaps I could make my way to the kitchen and use a knife to cut myself free? That would have been a very remote possibility since I couldn't get my hands out. Possibly I might be able to raise the pencil skirt's hem enough to use a knife. I couldn't. I had tied myself with three pairs of pantyhose on my ankles, above my knees and around the skirt. I had pulled all three very tight before knotting them. The skirt would not pull up and I couldn't walk to the kitchen.

I swung myself back on the settee and relaxed. I had to accept that I was completely helpless dressed as Joan and I would have to stay like that until Angela returned. I found my situation incredibly arousing. I would prefer it if Angela tied me up, but if I couldn't escape without her help that was nearly as exciting. I groaned in her panty gag as I reached one orgasm after another.

Angela arrived and walked straight through to the kitchen. I tried to attract her attention but the gag prevented me from making more than feeble grunt. She wouldn't have heard that because she had turned the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea. She walked into the living room carrying the tea. She looked at me. I looked at her, trying to plead. Angela sat in an armchair opposite me. She put her cup of tea down, lifted her legs and settled herself comfortably. I grunted into the gag again before wriggling helplessly.

Angela picked up her tea again and took a sip. She wasn't making any move to free me. She put the cup down again.

"Well, Joan, you have got yourself into a pickle, haven't you? I can see you are helpless but..."

'But?' What did she mean by 'but'? I struggled again.

Angela sipped her tea again.

"I was going to ask John for a favour tonight. Since he isn't here, but Joan is, I don't need to. There is an omnibus edition of a programme on television tonight. I know John doesn't like it but I thought if I asked nicely he'd let me watch it while he did something else. It is for two hours."

Angela looked at her watch.

"Starting in ten minutes. After that I'll do our evening meal for me and John. It will be a bit later than usual but since John isn't here, he won't mind, will he, Joan?"

She finished her tea, stood up and walked back to the kitchen. She returned with another cup of tea, some biscuits and a plastic carrier bag. She put them down on a table beside the settee and turned the television on.

"I can see that there are advantages to having Joan with me. We can make ourselves comfortable, have an evening of two women together and not annoy John."

She sat down on the settee, lifting my gagged head to the lap of her skirt. She picked up the biscuits.

"John likes these. He isn't here and you can't eat so you won't mind if I finish them, will you Joan?"

Angela reached over to the plastic bag.

"Joan, I don't think you want to see or hear my programme, so..."

Angela wrapped two long white slips tightly around my head. I couldn't see but those slips had been worn and Angela's perfume was all over them. I enjoyed breathing that. She pulled a heavy skirt over my head. My covered face was through the waistband but the heavy material and lining was covering my ears. I thought she said "Enjoy yourself, Joan' but I couldn't be sure.

At each advert break she leant forward and dropped her breasts over my head, smothering me.

When the programme had finished Angela unwrapped my head and put it down on the settee. She removed the pantyhose around the pencil skirt, pushed it up, and pulled the pantyhose off my hips and down to the restraint around my knees. She undid the bottom of the corset to let my erection out. She took the condom off before lifting her skirt and impaling herself on me. She pounded up and down on me, obviously enjoying herself and getting very excited and vocal as she shuddered above me.

Finally she pressed the heavy skirt across my face as I came into her.

Ten minutes later she finally released me from my bondage as Joan. I went to the toilet and dressed myself as John again. I joined her in the kitchen where she was preparing our evening meal.

"Hello, John," Angela said. "I've enjoyed an evening with Joan. I think I might like another one. Any objections?"

Angela kissed me. It was her first evening with Joan but I didn't object when Angela helped me to dress as Joan before tying me up as her helpless victim.

I may still be in the closet as a secret cross dresser but Angela now likes to make me her helplessly bound Joan.