It had been months since I had rushed out, dressed as a girl, at an early hours of the morning for the first time and now I had become more sophisticated. I knew that the biggest danger I faced was being seen by members of my family as I left the house and so was now working a set plan, it’s funny how we can become devious when we need to.

Each night I would, if I could, steal some treasures from the wash bin, my Sister’s or Mother’s room and hide them down the side of the bed between the covers and the mattress. I would aim to get a pair of panties, a skirt, some tights or my Sister’s knee length school socks. I needed all of these if my plan was to work. This hiding operation occurred during the early evening and my heart was always in my mouth as I snuck the treasures from their place of origin to my little secret place. What could I say to anyone who asks about why I’m holding a skirt, tights or panties?

For the rest of evening I would be tense, knowing what was hidden in my bed and dying to touch and wear them, "oh why can’t I have them always?" When it was time for bed I couldn’t just have the pleasure of them as I shared a room with my brother and had to wait in the darkness, passing in and out of sleep, never really relaxing. I would wake, it was too early to get up but I could hear my Brother’s breathing and knew when he was asleep. I would then let my hand quest down under the covers and into my treasure-trove, what a luxurious moment as my hand touches silk. I pull up the panties against my body and let my fingers quest for the sign, the sign of the bow! The little bow that in the dark tells me when I have the front and using this I can slip their loveliness over my legs and up to my master, it loves it, I love it. I lay breathing as quietly as possible listening for any noise from the other bed. Satisfied I slip on the tights and then the skirt and just lay there waiting, enjoying it, this is great, my master pulsates and lets a little joy emerge like gently squeezed spit from firm lips. Now I wait for the morning, the dark where I can be up.

When morning arrives, I go down stairs, put on my treasures, my sister’s or mother’s panties, a pair of tights or knee length white socks and a skirt. Then once dressed this way, with my normal boys T-shirt and jumper, I would put on my trousers and socks over the top. It was fortunate for me that at that time the fashion was for baggy trousers as I couldn’t have got away with it if I had to wear tightly tailored ones. I would leave my house and make my way to the local shops, not far but with the advantage of both darkness and lights whenever I wanted them. Creeping passed the bushes I drop down behind some stairs and here, with my heart pumping as if I was running, I will slip off my trousers and socks and feel that beautiful feeling as the cold air touched my legs. I take my boy’s clothes that are no longer wanted and put them into my paper-round bag and then hide this in the bushes. I loved the feeling of my stockinged feet against the cold street as I stood hiding my other person’s clothes. Putting my girls shoes back on I would then walk around the shops, living in that strange world of wanting to be seen but scared of being caught, an experience that lives with me now. I would stay out as long as possible, emerging into the light every now and then to glimpse myself in the windows of the shops; how marvellous to see yourself in a skirt and tights or girls socks, knowing that they hide the lovely panties and stiff, wet master that I must obey.