Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Fiction - Lifestyle Sub - part 2

Over the next 6 months Louise and I met many times and what started out as some fun meets at a fetish club turned into a serious relationship. Louise was a natural dominant, I was a natural submissive and we suited each other. Apart from the sexual aspect we shared many other common interests. At home I was a lifestyle sub and her a lifestyle dom, but in public we came across as any 'vanilla' couple. None of our friends knew about our sexual activities. I am an only child and my parents had died a few years before hand. I had a few aunts and uncles that I kept in contact with and had quite a wide circle of friends, many of who got to meet Louise.

I was never allowed to have full intercourse with Louise, she explained that that was something to be reserved for her husband. The most I could hope from from her was the occasional jerk off. I was often allowed to jerk myself off while she watched, often with a disinterested look and occasionally she'd even just get up and leave the room as I furiously wanked myself off. This was of course humiliating for me, making me feel pathetic and ridiculous, but again my innermost perversions worked against me and the more humiliated I felt the better the orgasm.

Louise on the other hand had me use my mouth on her, made me use my fingers on her and even made me strap on a dildo so that she could feel something inside her as I stroked her to orgasm. The dildo was designed to encase a flacid cock and then be strapped on to the wearer in much the same way that a woman would strap a strap on. The dildo was large and once my cock was inside it I could not feel a thing. Also, once on it acted as a chastity cage in that it prevented an erection.

We'd get together once, sometimes twice a week and have a good time. When, after six months of knowing her she asked if I wanted to marry I agreed without any hesitation. When I told my friends some of them did express reservations about us hardly knowing each other. I ignored their concerns and two months later we were married at a small church in a town that Louise had grown up in. It was a small wedding, we each invited our five closest friends and their partners.

After the wedding we went to a hotel where we had our first night as a married couple. The sex was fantastic! The next day we flew to San Francisco for our honeymoon. Sadly Louise had her period that week so I didn't get any more sex out of her but there was lots of playing. Before we left for the at the airport Louise insisted that when we got to the airport I leave my suitcase behind in the car. She had two suitcases of clothes, one of them, she explained, was for me. She assured me that if I trusted her I would have lots of fun. She was my wife, we had had fantastic times together, why would I not trust her? Of course I agreed. She gave me a big hug and said well in that case let's start the games now.

She tossed some clothes to me telling me to put them on. A few minutes later I was dressed in a pair of light pink socks and a pink bodysuit over which I wore a pair of womens jeans and t-shirt. The t-shirt was not glaringly female, it was only the style of the sleeves that gave it away. She handed me a pair of womens ankle boots that I had bought myself a few years earlier. They had a normal heel except that it was wooden and so made a distinctive clip clop as I walked, and they had a zip on the inner side.

As I took them from her I asked.

'But what about when we go through security, you often have to take your shoes off?'


'Well, it'll be embarrassing.'

'For you yes, we'll be going through check in separately. After all, we haven't officially changed our names yet. I'll be somewhere behind you watching. I can tell you what reactions you got, you know you'll love that. You will, won't you?'

And there it was, my own fetish working against me. I'd be totally embarrassed and yet, yes, I would, at some level, enjoy it. I put the boots on.

As it happened going through security wasn't that bad. We were on an early flight and the airport wasn't heaving as it often is at peak times. The woman putting things through the x-ray machine did take the boots out the tray and turn them up to lok at the soles, giving me an enquiriung glance as she did so, but apart from that I don't beliebe I got a raction. Of course that was to my face, Louise told me later that the woman and one of the men did whisper to each other and watch me walk away.

Sunday, 9 November 2014

A fantastic day of public fun

Yesterday I went to a convention at a town 160 miles from my house. I decided to have some cross-dressing adventures. In the UK it gets light at about 06:30 and dark at about 17:00. I left home at 06:00.

I had not filled my fuel tank as I was planning to have some fun filling it up. About 20 miles from my house is a highway services that has fuel pumps where you can pay at the pump with your credit card. This is the outfit that I wore leaving my house:

So I was wearing a pair of wet look leggings, a white hoodie and some obviously feminine shoes. I pulled into the garage. There are two islands at the garage for pumps, so four cars can fill up at once. If I number them from left to right, you'd have position 1 on the outer side of the island, positions 2 and 3 would be the inner positions with no island between them and position 4 would be the outer position. The access road to a McDonalds and Costa ran past position 4.

There was a car filling up at position 2 and I pulled up at position 3. I did this thinking that the fuel cap on my car was on the right hand side and so I would be able to hide between the pumps and my car. However, it's my partners car that has th ecap on the right hand side, my car is on the left. I got out the car and when I realised that I'd made a mistake I figured what the hell, it makes life more exciting.

I felt very exposed standing there filling the car up and it seemed to take ages. Three cars drove past on the way to the restaurants as I filled up. I studiously avoided eye contact. On the way out I did see that the guy in the payment booth was watching me.

I went to the convention. I'd booked a nail appointment at 15:00 and explained that I wanted nail art and an underarm wax. The lady taking the booking didn't seem taken aback.

When I got to the salon I had to wait a while but finally the lady who was going to do my nails was free and she called me over. I had a camera with me and explained that I was starting to 'come out the closet' with my cross-dressing and I wanted to have some pretty nails for a day en-femme that I was planning the next day.

She didn't bat an eyelid. When I asked her she explained that she had a few customers like me. She did a fantastic job on my nails.

She was great fun and we had quite a few laughs. At one stage she was explaining to me how she met her husband. She was explaining how as a beautician she didn't get to meet many men. Her exact words were 'In my job you don't get to meet many men and when you do, well, ...' and she pointed to me in a 'look at what you get when you do meet guys'. We had a good laugh about that. I loved that moment. To me it showed how relaxed the atmosphere was. She even posed in one of the photos with me.

She'd done my nails first and then took me in for my underarm wax. She warned me that the nails were only touch dry and told me to be careful taking my t-shirt off. The thing is that I was wearing a bra as well (which is why I'd made sure to tell her that I was into cross-dressing). I tried unclasping the bra but felt I'd be messing my nails up so I asked her to do it. As she did she said 'I have NEVER had a guy ask me that.'.

On the way out of the city I pulled into an industrial area that was closed and quickly put my wig on and then applied some makeup. It was a very quick job.

On the way back the GPS led me out a different way to that by which I'd arrived. After an hour I did have a problem in that I was going to have to fill up with fuel. I finally found a garage that was empty but sods law, the car in front of me pulled in as well. This time I pulled in to the correct island. I filled the car as slowly as I could making sure to keep my head down. But the guy next to me obviously had a larger fuel tank in his car and eventually I had to go pay. I walked across very self consciously, making sure to keep my head down. Thankfully as I approached the guy mentioned the pump I was at and I just grunted a confirmation. Again I kept my head down, avoided eye contact and just tried to get out of there as quickly as I could. As I rushed out the guy from the other car came in and opened the door for me to go out. I drove out as quickly as I could and both the other guy and the assistant were looking at me as he paid.

It was scary but wow it was exciting too.

Friday, 31 October 2014

Probably went too far

I went for a run last night. Wearing a pair of high gloss leggings with a white t-shirt that came to just a little below the waistband of the leggings. In the UK it gets dark at about 17:00 these days so I enjoy running in areas where I'm more likely to come across people.

I do this in the belief that the darkness does, to some degree, hide the full extent of, for example, the glossiness of the leggings.

Anyway, I was running on the outskirts of a town nearby and was running on the pavement alongside the rig road of that town. I was running with the flow of the traffic, so all cars were coming from behind me.

At one point there was a pedestrian crossing at which some people were crossing which bought all the cars next to me to a halt. I passed the crossing, A few seconds later some cars went past me but then there was a gap. It didn't really register at first but then I realised that there was a car keeping pace with me and effectively holding up the traffic. I looked at the car and the occupants were looking at me. They gradually sped up.

It's the first time that I've had such blatant attention paid to me which makes me think that something must have looked obvious. And if you've lived in England you will know that such blatant attention is unusual. I took some photos after the run and unless the leggings look a lot more feminine than I believe they do (and let me know if you think they do) then the only explanation is my bra.

Here are the photos taken after the race.

My worry is that under the t-shirt I wore a sports bra. As you can see from the above photos by the end of the run my t-shirt was completely wet from sweat. However, that takes a while to happen and it's a slow process. What I have discovered happens is that the t-shirt starts getting wet but the bra stops sweat getting through for a while with the result that you end up with a dry 'bra' shape. Here's a photo I took on another run a while back which was when I discovered this.

I suspect it's quite possible that I was running alongside a road with many cars on it with quite a visible bra outline. I really need to be a lot more careful I guess.

Friday, 17 October 2014

Friday, 19 September 2014

Story - Lifestyle Sub - part 1

It was what I wanted but also what I feared. Exciting and yet nerve wracking. Until now I'd only been passed by three cars, two approaching from the front and one from behind. I'd ignored the looks of the occupants as they'd passed. But as I rounded the bend I could see in the distance the car park that marked a popular stretch of beach. It would be busy, I would pass people, people who would have a good chance to watch me as I ran past.

I could cross the road and try avoid the parking place by making my way through the field opposite. Doing that would mean that people would still see me but I'd be far enough away that they wouldn't get a close look at me. People getting a close look at me was what I dreaded and yet craved in equal measures. So, it was within my control to avoid the scrutiny that would cause me humiliation and yet, I wouldn't. Humiliating as it may be I'd run past any people who happened to be in the parking lot. I'd run past on their side of the road. They'd get a look at me. I'd be embarrassed. I'd be humiliated. I'd be excited.

I'd also do it because if I didn't, my wife who was parked in one of the cars in that parking lot would find a way to punish me. But it wasn't just the fear of punishment that made me do it, deep down inside, I wanted to. And that was the conflict in my life.

I'd been running for just under eighteen minutes. My wife and her sister had dropped me off three kilometers back up the road. The road followed the coastline. On my right was the sea, on the left was empty fields with the occasional house dotted amongst them. The sun beat down on me as it approached two PM. I had a one liter water bottle from which I'd drunk a little already. I had another seven kilometers to go before my wife and her sister would let me back in the car.

The sun beat down on me. The white t-shirt I wore was already soaked with sweat. As those of you who've seen pictures of wet t-shirt competitions will know, a soaked white t-shirt becomes see through. My white t-shirt was now quite clearly showing the white leotard that I wore underneath. The fact that I'd been in Spain for two weeks already, and so had a dark tan, only helped make the white leotard stick out even more. The bright red rose on the stomach of the leotard was also visible through the t-shirt.

The black, wet look leggings that I wore might have passed as athletic wear to the untrained eye but my wifes sister had made sure that even the untrained eye didn't make that mistake by shortening them and sewing on a two inch band of lace that now ran around my lower calf.

The white t-shirt was short, its hem only just joining the waistband of the leggings. No one would know that though because the leotard was worn over the leggings, and so the waistband of the leggings was hidden from view. Instead, standing out in stark contrast to the black of the leggings, people approaching from behind could quite clearly see how the leotard curved across my bum into a thin strip of white thong that pulled the leggings into my ass crack as it disappeared between my legs. From the front they'd easily notice as the thong came out from between my legs forming a narrow V that opened up as it reached my t-shirt.

All of this would probably have been okay had I been a woman, the problem is that I'm not. I'm a male. Well, as my wife and sister like to remind me, biologically I'm classified as a male, in reality I'm an inbetweener, neither male nor female, or as they often put it, I'm a pathetic sissy.

The car park was getting close now. I knew that somewhere in that car park my wife and her sister were waiting. In fact, there, I could see them and as I saw them I saw that they'd seen me, the car doors opened and both of them got out. They moved to be closer to the edge of the road as I approached. There were approximately five other couples in the car park, at least two groups of three to four girls and a one group of young men.

'Oh my god! Louise, look!'

It was my wifes sister. And she'd said it loud enough that others would hear and wonder what was going on.

Louise looked and started laughing. 'Seriously? Is he wearing womens clothing? Look! There's lace on his leggings!. By now I was level with them. 'Are you a sissy?' she asked as I ran past.

I didn't answer. My face burnt with shame and humiliation. By now everyone in the parking lot was looking my way. Some people even rushed to get a better look. I heard some comments in Spanish but I also heard some in English. Apparently I was wierd and pathetic and yes, they had got a photo of me. I wanted to curl up and disappear. And yet, I had butterflies of excitement in my stomach too.

Louise and I met at a fetish club. For as long as I can remember I have been submissive. I've also had a thing for womens clothing. The first time I ever came was while wearing a pair of my sisters school panties. Over the years I developed a desire for humiliation at the hands of women. The first time we met at the club I'd gone there as a male but quite clearly wearing womens jeans, top and boots.

I'd been sitting at the bar, nursing a beer while trying to pluck up the courage to approach the play area when I'd seen her at a table by herself. She was watching me and as I made eye contact she beckoned me with one finger. I went over to her and as I approached she pushed a chair next to her out of the way while turning her chair sideways so that her legs filled the now vacant space.

'Hi, I'm ...'

'Shhh!' she replied as she pointed to the floor at her feet. 'Sit.'

I did, she smiled.

She slipped her foot out of its shoe allowing the shoe to fall to the ground.

'Massage my foot.'

'Certainly, how ...'

'Shhhh!' and she ignored me, looking over me to watch what was happening in the club.

She broke the silence. 'You don't speak unless I give you permission. I like the pretty clothes you're wearing. They're not mens clothes. Loosen your jeans and lower them around your thighs.'

I obeyed, she watched me, almost studied me, as I did so. My face blushed as my pink lave panties were revealed to her and, I realised, to others who cared to glance our way. She smiled, It was an amused smilem but her entire body language was superior. I was a plaything.

'Sit, carry on massaging my feet.'

I sat, the floor cold through the thin lace panties.

'You're obedient. I like that. I may reward you, although of course massaging my feet is a reward in itself.'

And it was. Being in a fetish club that I was familiar with made all of this seem quite safe. Yes, it was embarrassing sitting at her feet in front of the other patrons, my jeans around my thighs revealing the pink lace panties, and yet I was in heaven. My erection was throbbing, almost painfully. Being as I'm not circumcised I knew that with the way my panties were trapping my erect I could probably make myself cum by rocking slightly side to side, back to front a few times. But I didn't. I wanted this to last. And like all men, once I came, my sensible brain kicked in and I'd be disgusted with myself for doing what I was doing. I'd start to worry that doing stupid things like this had been seen by others who might know me. But the hornier I was, the less control my sensible brain had, and the raunchier I'd behave.

So I sat at her feet, quiet, massaging her wonderfully shaped foot through the smooth, almost slippery, pantiehose that covered it. I looked at her well painted toe nails wearing a lovely feminine pink polish and at some level, I was jealous. Jealous that I would never look as wonderful as she did. Jealous that I could never justify wearing such lovely nail polish in public.

Fiction - A dream too far - part 1

For years I've been a secret crossdresser. I do a lot of running and use that as the opportunity to wear my clothing in public. As I'm into leggings, leotards and all things lycra, running is an ideal way for me to wear womens stuff in public. How horny I am will determine how adventurous I get with what I wear and when I go running. Most of my running is done early in the morning or late at night. The chances of being seen by people are still there but not as great as at lunchtime for example. Obviously the later in the morning that you go running, or earlier in the evening, the more chance you have of being seen.

I love the thought of being seen by women while wearing womens clothing and there are two responses that I crave, the one would be ridicule and then quite the opposite to that would be acceptance and the ability to have a 'girls talk' about clothing. Generally though, the hornier I am the more I crave ridicule.

One Sunday I was horny as hell and decided I'd up the ante. I decided to drive to a car park about ten miles from my house and start and end my run from there. By doing this I could avoid being seen by my neighbors and so be more daring with what I wore. Also, by starting and ending so far from my house the chances of running into someone I knew were significantly reduced.

I put on a padded C cup bra and a pair of high gloss wet look leggings which I covered with a light blue thong leotard. The feel of the leotard pulling between my ass cracks almost made me cum. I covered the lot with a short white t-shirt. The t-shirt would, I knew, show the leotard once I started sweating and it got wet as a result. It was short enough that it came to just below my hips, thereby ensuring that the strap of the thong pulling the leggings into my ass crack was visible, it was also tight enough that my budding breats were visible. With a pounding heart and a huge erection I drove to the parking place.

As I pulled into the lot I saw a van at the far end and thought I could see a car parked on the far side of the van. There were no people around that I could see and so I assumed that it was probably dog walkers. My heart pounded a lttle extra, as it meant that there was a chance that even though it was 06:00 on a Sunday, I would potentially see people.

I took a few photos of myself using my cameras self timer and then locked the car and headed off. I'd planned to run 10 miles which would take me about an hour forty. I had my water bottle with me and was feeling excited to be out in public dressed as I was. Naturally I was also nervous and kept looking behind me as the route I was running was also used by cyclists.

The run went well, I passed three people walking dogs. One of them I approached from the front and the other two I passed from behind. The woman I approached from the front avoided looking at me so I wasn't concerned about her and the two that I passed from behind I didn't see their reaction. Approaching the car I saw that the van and other car were still there. I also couldn't help but notice the muscular guy leaning against my car.

He watched as I approached.

'Cute outfit.' he called as I got near.

I pressed the remote on my key, the car unlocked but he was leaning against the drivers door.

'Do you mind?' I asked, indicating that I wanted to get past him.

'Not at all.' he replied not moving. 'Sweet leotard and I love a man in wet look leggings. Do a twirl for me, let me see you from behind.'

My heart was racing now and I was starting to get scared. The thought of being ridiculed by a female turned me on, but a guy was a whole different story. I started to go round my car intending to get in from the other side and lock him out as soon as I got in. As I started walking round the car he suddenly lurched at me, grabbed my arm tightly and before I could do anything roughly grabbed the keys from my hand. Then he opened my car door, sat in the drivers seat and rummaged around until he found my cell phone. He switched it on and smiled when he saw I had no password.

'Mmmm, look at that, I have all your contacts.' He pressed a few buttons and then took a photo of me. 'Now, let me see you from behind or would you like me to send this photo to all your friends?'

Reluctantly I turned. He laughed. I felt like crying. This had gotten way out of control. I heard my car start. What the fuck!?

He drove my car and parked next to the van. I walked over wondering how I was going to get myself out of this mess. He got out my car, locked it, put the keys in his pocket and opened the door to the van, returning a few seconds later with a camera. The next few minutes were the height of embarrassment as I was forced to pose for all sorts of photos quite clearly showing what I was wearing and keeping my face visible in all of them. My car was visible in many of them as I was made to pose like a 70's car model draped over the bonnet. A few times cars drove past the parking lot, my heart stopped every time but he told me to ignore them. All the while he kept up a running commentary about how pathetic I was.

Finally he stopped taking photos.

'Look, please, I haven't done anything to you. I wasn't hurting anyone by doing what I was doing. Please just give me my phone and keys and let me go.'

'Come here.' he said reaching into his pocket. Thinking that he was reaching for his keys my hopes soared and I walked toward him. As I got close he suddenly slapped me so hard that I fell against the side of the van. As I raised my hand to touch my lip which judging by the taste of blood in my mouth was bleeding, he punched me in the stomach. I fell to the ground retching. As I lay there he pressed one foot against the side of my head and started grinding my head into the gorund.

'Listen to me you crossdressing sissy fuck, I am not the one who told you to go running like a cross dressed fairy, that was you that did that. I've met sick fucks like you before. I bet you get your rocks off hoping that a true female will laugh at you for the way you dressed? You see fuckwit, I do know about 'boys', and I use the word boys lightly, like you. Now, you do as I say and you'll probably even enjoy some of what I get you to do, but if you don't do as I say then I assure you that all your contacts will know about your little perversion. You'll be the laughing stock of the neighbourhood. So, do as I say and all will be okay. Do you understand?'

I didn't say anything. He pushed down on my face pushing it painfully into the grit. 'I said do you understand me faggot? I don't want to have to punch you again but I will.'

'I understand.' I mumbled. He lifted his foot off me and I started getting up.

'Oh no shithead. I didn't give you permission to get up. Stay where you are. Now I've got facebook up here, what's your facebook name?'

I told him.

'Very good. What's your password?'

I hesitated and he lifted a foot bringing it down on my left hand pressing down with his full weight.

I quickly told him my password. I heard some typing and then he grunted.

'Very good sissy. I've changed your status to 'Having a really good run.' Oh and I've also changed your facebook password. So now you really do need to do as I say otherwise all 257 followers of yours will be seeing some interesting pics. Now, when you got here you took some photos, let's take a look at those. You stay there slut.'

As I lay on the floor, my world falling apart I heard a car pulling into the parking lot. From where I lay on the floor looking at the car park from underneath my car I watched as two pairs of feet and a dog got out the car. I desperately prayed that the dog didn't come over, It seemed that at least in some respects my luck was in as the dog and its owners walked off. Then I heard my captor laughing and he came back to stand with his feet by my face.

'You're so typical. All of you sissy types just love taking photos of yourselves, look at all these outfits you've worn. I'll keep this camera. Now listen to me, I really do need to know that you understand. What will I do if you don't do as I say?'

'You'll post those photos on facebook and send some photos to all the contacts on my phone. I'll be ridiculed and laughed at it will be very humiliating for me.'

'Very good sissy, Now, to prove that you really do understand, kiss my crotch.'