Indeed, another Friday is here in the Cyrsti's Condo and since I have exhausted my life story experiences (mostly), material is sketchy.
This post goes way back to a simpler day in the early 1960's before LGBT and transgender were part of my and most others thought patterns. As you may or may not remember, transvestites were considered to be mentally ill. For me at least, these days even predated Virginia Prince.
I did have a few more responses to being "home alone" and the precious times we all remember. I was fortunate in that both of my parents worked but I had a two year younger super inquisitive brother who seemingly was always hanging around being a pest. So being totally alone and having free roam of the house and yard (since we didn't have any neighbors) was rare.
Dad built his own house and little did he know the long straight hallway he built in was a cross dresser's dream up to and including the full length mirror at the end.
Our mailbox was about 50 yards from the house down a winding driveway to the road which back in those days was very untraveled. Most of the time I could walk down the driveway feeling the delicious air on my nylon covered legs without ever seeing a car. Which was probably a good thing.
Unlike some of you (Connie) I never was able to spend the night by myself as a girl, so the nightgown experience was mostly out.
Of course the fear of discovery was always there, which truthfully added a little spice to the whole experience. But, as good experiences always go, the time alone went all too soon.
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