Crossdressing — Breaking the cycle of buying and throwing out clothes.

I remember pulling into a remote gas station on an empty road and thinking I was probably the only customer they had seen that day. In a plastic bag beside me was a pair of tights, some cheap panties and a bra that didn’t really fit.

I knew they had to go. I had been wearing the items, hurriedly bought as I’d made my way across the state on a business trip, when I was in my hotel room. After all, no one could possibly find out about this little pecadillo of mine, and what could be nicer than indulging this desire on a business trip in the middle of nowhere. But now that trip was over and it was time to dump out the evidence. This place looked safe enough, remote and overlooked by all but those who had to be here.

The gas station attendant was inside their little shop, watching something on the TV. I got out of the car and filled the tank, glancing at the trash can on the forecourt. If I dumped the clothes here they would likely go unnoticed. After all, who sorts through their trash at a gas station. No one would know I was disposing of the clothes I’d been wearing just a few hours ago. No one would guess that I was a crossdresser. After checking both ways up and down the lonely highway, I reached into the car and hurriedly tossed the plastic bag into the half full trash.