I feel very guilty and ashamed because I have weird s***** fetishes yet I still enjoy and take pleasure in them at neary 60 years of age.

I know a lot of these confessions are partial or total fabrications. In fact, I have posted a few on other sites which were a blend of actual experiences, fantasy and wishful thinking. This time my confession is absolutely true and 100% accurate. So, here goes…

Some time around the age of eight I started having desires to be t****** in my undershorts. I am positive about the age because I remember lying spreadeagle on a rug in my room in a house we moved from when I eight years old. I have no idea where this feeling and desire came from. Hell, I was still five years away from puberty.

About the same time I started looking at and the women’s underwear and swimsuit sections of the Sears Catalog. Strangely, I was a lot more interested in thr women’s things than those of girls or young ladies.

At puberty, I developed a strong desire to wear lady’s underwear and I started trying on my mother’s things every time I had a chance. I quickly discovered mom’s girdles, control briefs and swimsuits felt a lot better than her nylon or cotton p******.

Looking back, I suspect this was most likely because the snug, tight garments aroused me when I moved around in them. A white Playtex control brief and the aqua blue (with an inch or so wide white stripe on each hip from waistband to leg opening) high waist, brief style bottoms of an old Sears two piece women’s swimsuit soon became my favorite items.

The swimsuit bottoms were my preferred item. I liked the color and they were snug and tight like a girdle. I also liked the look and feel of the material which was a relatively thick Lycra spandex type.

I started out by wearing the control brief or swimsuit bottoms around the house whenever i was home alone. Not only did they feel good, I realized the risk and danger of possibly being caught excited me s*******.

Eventually, staying in the house was not exciting or risky enough. Luckily, we lived outside of town in s rural area and I soon started to venture outside wearing only the swimsuit bottoms or control brief.

I soon discovered adding self b****** and self discipline to my outdoor activities greatly increased the danger and risk of getting caught and likewise increased my pleasure. My b****** consisted of tying myself up in various positions in the woods. I longed for someone to tie me up but there was nobody available. Even if there were somebody, there would be no way to bring the matter up or justify it.

Therefore, I had to feed my lust for risk and excitement with self discipline in the form weird and strange tasks I forced myself to do. One of my favorite tasks involved going into the woods behind our house, taking off my clothes and putting. I would leave my clothes and walk around in the woods wearing only the swimsuit bottoms.

A variation involved leaving the house in only the swimsuit bottoms and going for a walk in the woods. This made the risk of getting caught significantly greater and thus more exciting. I sometimes made myself even more bizarre by adding mom’s white chin strap swim cap to my ensemble.

I also forced myself to run laps around the house in the swimsuit bottoms. First, I would decide how many laps I would be required to run and then I would run them non stop, I would continue running even if I was in front of the house when a car happens to pass. Again, this increased the my risk.

If a car passed I simply kept running and prayed nobody had seen me. Additionally, if a car did happen to pass me, there was the prospect of several days passing before I could be reasonably sure they didn’t see me.

If running laps was not enough (I was a bit overweight and running for any period of time was tough for me) I also practised a sort of self torture by forcing myself to run in extreme weather conditions. Not only did I run laps in the humidity and oppressive heat of July and August, I ran them in the bone chilling cold of Winter.

When I was 14 and 15, there was a lot of friction between my parent and me. So, I started spending up to several weeks at a time with my widowed grandmother who was only in her early to mid 50’s and good looking prim, proper and straight laced lady.

At her house, I helped myself to her one piece Playtex “slimming” swimsuit as well as her Sears and Playtex girdles and long line bras. Whenever possible, I would walk around her house in one of these items or take a few out to the detached garage and play around.

I was lucky that I was never caught or seen (at least not that I know of) by my mother, grandmother or anyone else. I have never had any sicko thoughts about my mother or grandmother but I did and still do fantasize about getting caught by my grandmother, in her house, while I’m wearing nothing but a black control brief (it’s got to be black and Flexees brand by madenform) and being forced to come back another day and spend the day wearing only the control brief as my punishment.

In the fantasy she forces me to comply by threatening to tell my parents and orders me stand in the middle of her living room, in just the control brief, with my hands behind my head and fingers interlocked, while she calls a couple of middle age female friends with who she has previously arranged to come over and punish me.

When the women arrive about an hour later, they start my punishment with humiliating me by making me stand in front of them and forcing me to give highly detailed answers embarrassing questions about my fetish. My humiliating interrogation would include these questions:

* How long have you been wearing girdles?
* What else do you like to wear?
* does anybody else know about this?
* Why do you like to wear lady’s girdles?
* What do you do while wearing them?
* How does wearing girdles make you feel?
* Do you masterbate while wearing girdles?

I am required to stand, facing them, with my hands still behind my head, chin up, stomach in, chest out and reply in minute detail. While they snicker, laugh and belittle me. After more than an hour of interrogation, my extreme humiliation reduces me to tears and crying. While the women clearly enjoy my shame and ebarrassment, they make it no secret they loathe me and think I’m a pervert.

After my interrogation, my punishment continues with more than an hour of exhausting forced exercise and aerobics. After I’m completely exhausted, my punishment continues with being taken to the detached garage, restrains in a standing spread eagle position and given a severe full body whipping with a leather belt.

The day ends with me being left in the garage, tightly and securely tied down in an old heavy wooden office chair for several hours while the women go out to eat.

As I said, that is just a fantasy but it is my favorite fantasy and I still go back to it and relive it in my sick brain several times a week.

Over the last 40 years I have wasted a fortune paying the women at massage parlors and several femdoms to parade me around, tie me up, whip me and abuse me in other ways while I wear part of my collection of fetish items, including long leg girdles with side zipper, long line bras, firm control briefs, two piece and one piece lady’s swimsuit, high heels (red ones and black ones) and rubber swim caps (always the type with a chin strap.

While I’m pretty much straight, i have lately been fantasizing about and thinking about having finding one or more mature gay men to dominate me and put me through my paces.

If I can’t afford to see and pay somebody to dominate me (which is most of the time), I will drive around at night in just a black control brief or women’s swimsuit. My favorite way to do this is to drive to a reasonably safe place, strip off all my clothes (including my shoes and socks), hide my clothes, put on the swimsuit or black control brief and drive off without my clothes. I usually drive away from my clothes and home for many miles (sometimes 80 or 90 miles) until I become nervous or frightened before turning around. This procedure forces me to drive back in a highly anxious and paranoid state. I find this very exciting to feel this way. My heart races and I feel like everybody can see me.

Well, that’s the whole confession of my fetishes and perversions. Nobody has ever known the whole story. Now, everyone who reads this will know.

I don’t hurt anyone, never have, but I still feel bad about it. I am dishonest because of the secrets I keep and things I do. Still, I keep on doing these things almost every day. Worse yet, I enjoy them immensely and I don’t want to quit.

Looks like I’m a bad person and a pervert for life.

I am so guilty and confused, why do I have to live this way?