I have been dressing as a girl my entire life. I love seeing myself wearing all the dainty soft feminine fabrics and the delicate feel of a dress, panties and bra against my skin. I’m “In the closet” as some would say. I’ve done a great job of keeping my “hobby” hidden from everyone, even my wife. She thinks she married a normal male but the truth is, I’m a “Sissy” who loves dressing as a “girl” every chance I get. My wife works in sales for a large corporation and I work in maintenance for the township where we live. Because she travels a great deal of the time, she’s gone and I’m able to bring my collection of clothing home from the storage locker that I rent. I stay “dressed” most of the time when she’s gone. I’ve always been careful not to get caught. The thought of somebody finding out that I liked wearing lingerie, dresses and everything feminine, always terrifies me. Inside that storage locker I have many trunks filled with a large assortment of dresses, panties, bras, garter belts, stockings, shoes, make-up, wigs and accessories. If these items stayed in the house, my wife would have found them already. I recognized her “detective” qualities in her observations about everything. You couldn’t move anything in the house without her noticing and asking questions. She figures things out immediately. Over the years I’ve purchased many “girly” items on line and had them shipped to a postal box. I’ve also covered my tracks with billing for all those female items. It is a constant challenge to prevent her from discovering “my secret life”. Because I am careful, all is well. Usually, her trips will last over a week and I bring her to the airport and pick her up again on her return. I would always get “dressed” in her absence. I had the run of the house in my dress, heels, make up and wig every day when I got home from work. I kept the blinds closed so no one could see in. I always give myself a bubble bath, shave my legs & underarms, apply make-up, put on my wig, earrings, lingerie, garter belt, nylon stockings, a dress and high heel shoes. I am in “girly heaven”. When my wife is home, I am sure to wear pajamas and socks to cover my hairless legs, body and painted toenails. All my female items I wear are keep in trunks that I never keep in the house. After wearing the clothes, I wash & dry them or have them dry cleaned. I’m sure the dry cleaner suspected I was gay so I always played the part when I brought in my frilly dresses and maids uniforms. I always return everything to the storage locker. My wife never suspected. I was also careful not to touch anything of hers. I would never leave a trace of evidence to raise her suspicions. Trying to hide anything in the house, she would find it. My cover would be blown. A few weeks before Halloween, we received an invitation to a costume party. My wife was a “girly girl” who loved ultra feminine dresses as much as I did. She wanted to go dressed as a “Princess Bride”. As she was picturing getting a dress from a bridal boutique, my fantasies kicked in. I pictured myself going to the party in gorgeous lingerie, a satin dress, nylons, high heels, and breast forms. I snapped out of the daydream with a huge erection. I told my wife I would go as “Superman” or another “Super Hero”. She said “That will be nice”. She called her girlfriends and together the same day, they all went with her to the bridal store to pick out a beautiful dress. I went to the costume shop and found a “Superman” costume in my size. This feeling of disappointment stayed with me and caused me to fantasize again and again. My wife received word from neighbors and the security guard at our gated community that houses were being broken into in our affluent community. Within the hour, she was on the phone with a national security monitoring company. Our entire home was alarmed complete with motion sensors and cameras. She felt safe. I never thought about the cameras again. She left for her business trip and I continued dressing as a girl. I was oblivious to the fact that my secret was not going to be a secret much longer. “Oops”!