The stairs going up to her room creaked in all the very same places as before as she traced the steps that her drunken father would take. She would be...lying in her tiny bed, ducking her head under the covers when she heard the heavy, uneven steps. Sometimes he’d even sing to her on the way to rape her. Cassie, how I love ya, how I love ya, my sweet girl, Cassie! The tears burned her eyelids as she screwed them shut, her teeth fixed in a painful grimace. The door would swing open, squeaking like. Another confession I have to make. I've always been a closetcrossdresser. Now with my wife gone, as well as access to all herclothes and makeup, I was indulging in my hobby more and more often.Thankfully we were mostly the same size. There were a few things (shoes,pantyhose, a few skirts) that didn't fit me, but I had enough retirementfunds to splurge and buy myself a new feminine wardrobe. I had alwaysbeen into women, sexually, but with my new guy friends in my sexualonline world I've found. More

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