Sissy Pov |work| | Jackie

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. You’re wearing the black chemise she left on your pillow yesterday. It smells like her perfume. The straps keep slipping off your shoulders.

My name is Jackie, though you’d never know it from the contents of my closet. In there, among the forgotten flannel shirts and jeans that no longer fit, hangs a different life. Silk blouses, pencil skirts, a single, daringly red dress, and at the very back, a petticoat so stiff with starch it could stand on its own. To the world, I am a man—a mechanic, a husband, a quiet presence at backyard barbecues. But in the secret, sacred hours, when the last car is fixed and the last light is off, I become Jackie. And Jackie is a sissy. jackie sissy pov

That's my story, from my POV - a sissy's POV. It's not for everyone, I know. But it's mine, and I'm grateful for it. You try to speak, but your throat is dry