My beloved wife of fifty years died in January this year, so I am now alone in this cruel world. We married young, just before my twenty-first birthday, and she was twenty one; some foureen months older than I. We had a long and happy life together, raising three kids before settling into contented middle age with our children and grandchildren around us. For no apparent reason, our younger daughter died four years ago at age thirty-nine and her mother never really got over that loss. Children aren't supposed to die before their parents.

I hate to admit it, but I have been a CDer (or a fetish CDer) since long before we married. My wife discovered that quirk after thirty years of marriage, through carelessness on my part, and could never accept it. She trashed my stash, only to find another stash a year or so later, when she really 'hit the roof'. To all intents and purposes, that was the end of our marriage; but we did stay together. Back in our day one married for better or for worse, but the 'worse' was not something she could accept. Her husband of thirty years was a bl**dy weirdo. What attraction could he possibly find in women's clothing? And so our intimacy ended. We still loved each other. I certainly couldn't have faced life without her, and I think she had reached the stage where she could turn a blind eye to my idiosyncrasies. I was banished from her bed. Do whatever the h*ll you want, as long as I don't have to bl**dy see it. And she didn't see it. I stopped dressing, although I still longed for the tautness of a bra around my chest and a pair of nylon panties caressing my buttocks. God, I would have given anything if only she could have accepted me for what I was.

Ten years ago she suffered a heart attack and was in hospital for three or four weeks. But we.overcame that and she made an almost full recovery. Then four years ago she had a second massive heart attack. For the first four weeks she was completely comotose in intensive care, then spent a further six months in hospital. Over those seven months, I daily drove the thirty-odd miles to be at her bedside. All thought of CDing was pushed aside. It was towards the end of that period that our daughter died. My beloved wife felt so helpless, being stuck in a hospital.

She was eventually discharged, but had lost the use of her legs. Consequently, she had to be hoisted out of bed on to a commode each morning so she could do her ablutions, then be hoisted into a wheelchair for the rest of the day. But life was good. My wife was home, and I tended to her needs. She was diagnosed as diabetic and then needed insulin injections three times a day in addition to her other medications. During that time a never before experienced closeness developed. We were no longer in a You and I situation. It was 'Us' against the world. No matter what life would throw at us.

We now come back to my CDing. Whilst she was dozing or watching television from her bed of an evening, I would don a skirt with pantyhose and heels to spend an hour or two in my study, catching up with things on my computer; returning to male wear before settling her down for the night, or whenever she called for assistance. I'd then sleep in a nylon nightdress and panties. I know that in doing that I was feeding my own selfish needs, but oh how I wished (as her 'nurse') that I could boldly strut into her bedroom in the morning wearing a skirt and heels. That would however have been a bit too much.

And now she has gone. I can never, ever, 'come out' to her. Whether she would have accepted me in later life I will never know. Recalling her disgust and revulsion in finding my stash twenty years ago, I very much doubt it; but I was still the guy she married.

This has been a l-o-ng posting, and I apologise for that (if anyone bothers to read it). But I may well be typical of guys in our situation. I admire those who have had the courage to come clean with their SOs, and am extremely envious of the few who seem to have SOs who accept us for what we are.

So here I am. Sitting at my computer wearing a satin blouse with a knee length straight skirt, a bra with forms, full-length slip, suspender belt (garter belt) with stockings, and heels, clip-on earrings, a matching necklace and bracelet. And what do I feel? I feel I am a stupid old widower person with little or nothing to live for. My life ended with my wife's death. I look at the photographs of you transformed and gorgeous younger people, and wonder what might have been if I were but forty years younger.