Nevertheless, she made it clear that she would prefer to have me quit, but that if I couldn't, at least I would never let her see me dressed. I never broke that pledge.

In fact, I almost thought I had it licked again. We courted for another year before our marriage and in that time I was able to stop completely. Still no guarantees, but I'm sure she thought I was through and with all my heart I prayed she was right.

We had only been married a short time when the old urges returned; and this time, considering what I now had at stake, they were more terrifying than ever before. Finally, hoping that maybe just a "little bit" of dressing would be all I would need, next morning I bought myself some lingerie and hosiery - nothing more. Again I was wrong. I had gone too far for that. Now nothing could satisfy me short of the total image - top to toe. Within twenty-four hours I had purchased everything I needed to create that image and soon I found myself dressing on the sly when my wife was out. It was awful; I left like a thief in my own home. To compound the guilt, I had also begun reading TV literature again, most of which was only available in stores I wouldn't have been caught dead in otherwise. Worse, nearly all of it had given me the feeling that what I was doing was "dirty", something it had never seemed on its own. I was horribly confused, expecially as I still loved my wife.

I kept everything carefully hidden, however, and even though I was now shaving my legs and plucking my eyebrows (in my case absolutely essential for properly feminine features), she never seemed to suspect. For extended sessions, I was fortunate to have a relative who lived nearby and was fond of taking trips away from the city during which I had the run of her house. A sham business trip of my own, timed to coincide with her absences, would sometimes give me as long as two or three days - all of which I would spend as a woman.

On such occasions, I sometimes found it handy to assume the role of my own "wife". The first time I tried this, I loaded my things in the car, picked up my wig at the beauty salon, then drove all the way to another city where I registered for the night in a motel as a married couple (my "wife," of course, being in the car). The bulk of the night was then spent plucking my beard out completely (my own idea and another first on