A feminized basket ball player

I considered my compulsion to dress a harmless one as far as compulsions go. I knew many people in our small town in trouble with the law, or worse, because of compulsive gambling or drinking habits. My private dressing seemed remote from the real world, a play fantasy I enacted. The closest to reality my dressing ever came is the phone sex calls I made to a number I found in the back of a magazine. While on the phone with these professional women, I would divulge my fantasy of dressing up and getting caught by my wife. We would role play, and the phone girl would pretend to get very upset at me, and then let the bitch in her come right out. In my fantasy, I was humiliated in the way my sister had trained me to be. I was called names, like slut and bitch, fairy and cocksucker, as I was led through a story in which different men ravished me and used me as their whore. I never thought much of it and thought I was careful to conceal it from my wife. As I paid all the bills in my house and worked at home, the thought of actually being caught never really crossed my mind. I was always the first to gather the mail, no matter what.