Serial - and a few Rosie Shorts

Sorry to be late today - but got involved with the football Games and got caught up in them for a while.

A message for you Tammy?  My son will be visiting your fair city this coming Wednesday.  Will be staying at the "Fishing Meadows Condo?"

Rosie - my good friend - sent me an update with a few more "bits' in it.  I hope that some of you are sending her compliments?  I think them damn good!

By the way?  I got an irate e-mail from someone who informed me that I'd missed one of Rosie's short bits.  I really missed it  - and that's all.  Didn't miss it with intention - honest!

But my serial follows - then Rosie's bits will be after that.  - Enjoy!  Hugs to you all.

Serial  - Career Paths May be Slippery When Wet - Part 2

"Rene?  Please?"

"You're not trying to welsh on your bet, are you?  I mean you can't possibly be thinking of not paying, are you?" The amusement was gone from her face. "I really hate welshers!" she added.

"No Rene.  Well, kinda.  Please don't do this. Please give me one of your old ones?  It wasn't a part of the bet that I had to go and buy one."  I added the last part hopefully.

She shook her head. "Come on Patty.  Time to pay up.  Pay up like a man and put your dress on!" she crowed.

Sitting next to her as she drove us to the mall, I felt tiny. Small, infantile, weak.  I knew that Rene was smaller than I, but I felt like a little child sitting beside a towering adult.

We went to one of her favorite boutiques – Elaine's.  "It's very expensive," Rene informed me, "but seeing you're being such a gentleman, I'd like the honor of buying you your first dress.  Just one thing more?  It had better fit!  I won't have you parading about for the rest of today in something that's flopping all over you – or so tight that you can't move.  Understand?"

"But how can I make sure . ."

She knew my question before I finished asking it. "Try it on.  How else are you going to find clothes that fit?"

I could feel my eyes get big with fright. But managed to find a straw to grab at. "That was NOT part of the bet.  I've to wear a dress in the house for the rest of the day, that is ALL!   There was nothing about wearing one outside anywhere else!  You're not being fair!"

She considered this for a moment. "Okay! But the dress better fit you! If it doesn't, you'll come back and exchange it for one that does!"

My brain went into overdrive. Had she given me a little bit of an out?  Suppose, just suppose, that I looked as if I was trying to get something that fitted?  And it didn't?  Back to the mall for an exchange?  And suppose the same thing for the next one? How much time could I waste? Possibly limit my time in the dress to a few hours. Of course, I would have to be very careful!

"Sounds fair to me." I said, trying to hide my exultation.

As it was still fairly early in the morning, neither the mall, nor Elaine's was doing much business.  In fact, inside Elaine's, there were probably more salesgirls than customers. Most of them knew Rene though, waving to her,  and one made a bee-line for us as soon as we walked into the store, greeting her effusively.

"Yo Sandra!" Rene said. "Not here for me today. Here for – him" she said jerking her thumb towards me.

The girl gave me an uncertain glance, then concentrated on Rene again.  "What are you talking about Rene?  You know we don't sell men's clothes in here."

"That's not what he's here for – but you'd better talk to him.  I'll just browse while you're helping him." Rene countered.

With that, she waggled her fingers at me. "Toodles darling. Make sure you get something pretty now!" and left me with Sandra.

"Rene serious?" the girl asked me quickly. "You're here to buy something?  What?  A present for somebody?"

"A dress. For me." I answered, going beet red in the process.

She let out a short laugh. "You've got to be kidding!  A dress?  What kind? Formal? A day dress, or just one for lounging around in?"

I lost a bet." I said, hoping this would eliminate any additional comments.

"Sure." She said, disbelief right below the surface. "You lost a bet. What size dress do you wear – a ten?"

"I've no idea." I admitted.

"Do you wear Rene's dresses at all?"

"No.  Honestly.  I never have worn women's clothes." I said this sincerely, trying to convince this girl that I wasn't in the habit of flouncing around in dresses.

"Oh."  She seemed nonplussed for a second.  Guess we'll have to measure you then.  Let's go into the fitting room.  Are you wearing a bra?"

"Of course I'm not!  Told you.  I don't wear women's clothes.  Why won't you believe me?  I lost a BET!  That's why I'm looking for a dress to wear.  After today, I won't be needing it!"

"I'm only bringing it up because most dresses take into account that the wearer has breasts," she said coldly. "If you don't have some semblance of breasts, the chance of you getting a dress that doesn't flop at the front is limited.  But come on.  Let's get the measuring over and done with."

Then she paused, a reflective gleam appearing in her eyes. "Last time Rene was in here?  She bought a hostess apron.  Very feminine.  Pink and shimmering?  Tiered skirt.  I was surprised that she didn't try it on."  She paused, a smile beginning to light behind her eyes.  " Did it fit you?"

My blush gave me away. She laid a hand on my forearm.  "Let's start getting you a nice dress then, shall we dearie?"

"I don't want to go in there!" I protested. "Not going to get measured!  Not going to put a bra on! Just want a dress!"

"But there's no way we can guarantee that a dress will fit you if you won't get measured, silly. Unless?  Oh of course – you really want to try it on, don't you?"

"I do NOT!  What about this one here! " I said, picking one at random from a rack beside me."

She smiled. "Let me show you what's wrong with that one – sir.  Would you hold it up against yourself. Hold it at the waist, and place that bit at your waist.  That's it.  Now look at where the skirt falls, Just about calf length, right?"

"Seems okay" I mumbled, ashamed  and staring at the ground.

"Sir?  You'll HAVE to look in a mirror at some time or other.  That's better.  Now lift the bodice up and place it over your chest.  Now see where the shoulders are?"

"Yes.  A little short?"

"Wow!" she said sarcastically. "NOW you're getting the idea.  See, holding a dress up against you like that just gives you an idea how a dress color will suit you, and a rough idea of the size. Now, would you look at the dress size on the tag please?"

With that, she produced a paper tag that was attached to the dress and lifted it for my perusal.

"Size three.  I s that right?" I asked.

"Yes – but not right for you dearie. You couldn't get into that dress with a shoehorn!"

"Can't you hazard a guess?  Didn't you ask me if I was a size ten?" I said, a note of pleading evident in my voice.

"That would be my guess," she said, "but you're actually quite slender.  Might be an eight even –  a lot depends on the dressmaker. There's no standard that everyone uses. But I'd say a ten would probably be okay."

"Thanks" I said. "Do you have any dress racks with just size tens in them?"

She shook her head. "No – Elaine likes to mix things up on the racks.  Remember, we make dresses here as well as buy from other dress manufacturers.   If a customer browses through the racks and sees a dress she likes – but finds that it's the wrong size or color, we'll make another to her specifications.  Now, do you want me to give you a hand, or do the picking by yourself?"

"Will you help me please," I capitulated.

Her whole demeanor changed.  "Sure, sweetie. I'll be glad to." She patted my arm. "Now didn't I hear Rene say something about you getting a pretty dress?"

I gulped, and nodded.

"Good! Now what I think we should do?  Pick four or five – or six – that you like, then take them into the fitting room."

"I don't want to try them on!" I protested weakly.

"Sure honey.  I heard you the first time.  But trust me, you'll find it a lot more private in there. Of course, if you don't want privacy, we can. ."

"I'm sorry" I interrupted.  "I thought you still wanted me to try them on."

"No doubt about it honey! That would be the best way – but you seem stubborn enough – so I'm NOT going to fight you on it.  You just realize that you won't look as good if your dress doesn't fit?"

"That's okay" I said, glad that we were finally getting down to business.

A little while later, I wasn't so glad.  Walking about a woman's dress shop with a bunch of dresses draped over your arm doesn't exactly inspire the masculine image.  Know what I mean?  Especially when the salesgirl beside you is going into goddam raptures about the materials "Oh, just wait until you try this one on!  Lovely!"  Or  "This color?  Perfect for you – though you might have to watch what shade of eyeshadow you use." On and on and bloody on! Embarrassing enough at any time – but with your fiancé looking on with an amused grin?

Then, in the fitting room?  Getting down to business now. Holding each dress in turn up against myself.  Checking the hem length – and was there enough material for a full skirt?  Maybe I'd need a petticoat to fill it out?  Sandra was still rattling off comments, but I was learning to ignore her now.

After more humiliation than I cared for, I opted for a teal dress. A mix of rayon, silk, and chiffon.  It was more feminine than I cared for, but I was positive that it would be too small for me, and would have to be returned.  I figured that, if it was truly feminine, Rene wouldn't be so inclined to figure that I was pulling one over on her.

A few women had drifted in and out of the fitting room while I was there, shooting curious glances my way, but they left me and Sandra alone.  Then, just as I made my final selection, a lady came in to see if her alterations had been finished to a dress she was supposed to pick up.  She was pleasant featured and smartly dressed in a silk jumpsuit of Coral silk. I heard her being told that her dress would be ready for pick up in another hour or so.

The next thing, she she's standing at my shoulder. "Mind me asking, honey?" she said, a Texas accent evident.

"What?" I answered, blushing.

"You one of those transvestites, I heard of.  Gets all turned on wearing women's stuff?"

"Oh Grace!"  Sandra giggled.  "You can't be embarrassing my customers like that!"

"I lost a bet with my wife. Have to wear a dress for the rest of today."  I explained. Then trying for an appearance of normalcy, I grinned and added. "There's more to this than I thought!"

She smiled back. "You're right there honey.  Hope you don't mind me asking. I just HAD to ask.  I've never met one of those dress up fella's before, and I was plumb curious. But my daughter bought one just like that one a few weeks back.  It's pretty on.  I'm sure you'll like it."  With that, she said.  "Sorry to bother you.  Have a nice day." And left.

When Sandra and I returned to the main showroom, Rene was standing chatting to Elaine, who seemingly had just arrived.

The owner of the store was in her late forties, but immaculately groomed. Wide spaced blue eyes that were peering at me over a pair of bi-focal glasses.  Simple black dress.  Plain gold chain and matching earrings.  She stuck her hand out as I approached "You must be Billie?" she said, smiling.

"Not today Elaine," Rene laughed. "He's Patty until midnight.  Buying himself a dress to prove it."

"Oh Billie!  You crazy enough to make a bet with Rene?  You must be nuts!  She cons more people!" Elaine said, laughing.

"Think I'm learning that now." I answered ruefully.

"Who's paying for your dress?" she asked.

"Rene." I told her.

"Hope you bought an expensive one then!" Elaine laughed. "But I've a business to run. Nice meeting you Billie. Hope you like your dress. Put it on your account Rene?"

"Sure.  Thanks Elaine," Rene said.  "Come on then Patty, let's get you home then."

I was nervous going home in the car.  Suppose the dress DID fit me?  I sighed. Even if my plan worked, I'd still have to wear a dress in front of Rene for a little while, and the thought of that embarrassment reddened my face considerably.

But it was nothing compared to my beet red visage staring back at me from the mirror after I'd changed. Sandra had described it as a Cocktail dress, and it certainly was pretty – well would have been pretty if it had fitted.

As I said, it was a pretty teal color, the skirt softly pleated, with the hem just below my knees.  The neckline had a sort of shawl effect, draped nicely to give an impression of a bust, and sleeveless. There was a chiffon tunic attached though that did have sleeves, that cuffed at the wrists – though the dress was for someone with longer arms than mine. I should also mention that the hemline being below my knees?  Should have been above them – the dress was far too big for me.

I knew that my plan had worked, but was strangely nervous when I reported to Rene who was sitting waiting for me in the living room.  I breathed a sigh of relief when she looked at me and said "Nice dress Patty."

I started to than k her, but she punctured my relief immediately. "But Patty?  Go and stand in the corner!  You've been very, very, naughty and I have to think what I'm going to do with you."

My mouth was dry. But I managed to say.  "Stand in the corner?  Like a little kid?"

The eyes she turned on me were blue flint, but her voice was calm. "Yes. If you're going to behave like a naughty little girl?  I'm going to treat you like one.  Now, do I have to tell you again?"

Shamed out of my mind, I went and stood in the corner.  She kept me there, the silence in the room deafening, for a few minutes. Then I heard her leave the room. When she returned a few minutes later she spoke. "Okay Patty.  Come over here and sit beside me.  I think we need to talk."

"Okay Rene" I said, grateful for the calmness in her voice. I did feel strange tough, walking towards her, her eyes on me the whole time, but I was very aware of the dress material as it moved and touched various parts of my body.

She patted the area on the couch right beside her, so I sat down, smoothing my skirts as I did so. I saw a glimmer of a smile in her expression, and breathed a major internal sigh of relief.  Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all?  I felt even better when I felt her arm embrace me at the shoulders and pull me into her. She didn't ask me to, but I felt very comfortable resting my head on her shoulder.

"I'm going to tell you something dear.  But please don't interrupt me while I'm talking.  You can have your say when I'm done.  Okay?"

"Yes Rene." I whispered.

"Fine!  Let me start by saying that up until you arrived, the men in my life were forceful, dynamic, and pure dyed in the wool bastards!  My father, then my first husband.  They're both dead now, but they put their mark on me.  Didn't physically abuse me – well not much anyway.  Nothing I couldn't handle.  But I was never allowed to hold an opinion of my own. Had to defer to their masculinity all the time."

She paused, then re-started.  "It wasn't all their fault though.  I went along with it.  Now my dad died when I was in my twenties, just after I got married.  Paul, my husband was okay at first but after Nancy was born?  Oh god, I was back to being a possession again!

Paul got killed in an airplane crash about five years ago.  Luckily, I had finished all of my schooling and had been able to hang out my shingle as a clinical psychologist some years before. He had a lot of life insurance, and the double indemnity clause doubled that – so I'm what you could easily describe as financially comfortable.

Now about three years ago, I got involved with two individual clients with the same problem.  Both were very submissive males – but didn't seem to realize it.  After a good deal of therapy I got them both to accept what they were.  Sent them away happy. Content with what they were, you know?

But? One night  having a bath, I found that I was really turned on sexually, just thinking of the two of them – and sort of wishing – you know?  Like I'd taken advantage of them."  She smiled. "Got myself all dreamy and creamy.  Know what I mean?"

She didn't wait for my answer, and started talking again. "I was kind of startled by this new aspect of my character.  Went into analysis for quite a while before it dawned on me that I was in a state of denial. I wanted to dominate males and that's all there was to it. That  was the conclusion I finally reached.  I found it very difficult to accept that about myself though. Was too shy as well.  Came close to picking up a male to experiment on a few times – but then you came along – a  PERFECT subject!"

She laughed.  "You even blush like a girl.  I can feel the heat from your face on my shoulder!"

Offended, I lifted my head. "Stop that.  Put your head back where it belongs!" she said sharply.  I did.

She giggled!  Like a young girl!   "Oh, this is so much FUN! Bossing you around like this!  You're so obedient! Makes me all sexy!"  Her body shook with a delighted spasm.  "It's just such a wonderful feeling to have you here in my home, all docile and sweet.  I'm going to have such a good time dominating you!"  I could feel the tremors shaking through her body, but she was talking again.

"First?  I'm going to change your name.  We'll get it done legally. I think Priscilla is a sweet name, don't you?  No – don't answer.  You can tell me later. I'm also thinking about having some minor surgery done on you. "  She made a peculiar hissing noise through her teeth. "Maybe breast implants?   Oooh!  Get you collagen injections into your lips.  Big kissable lips.  For sure, I want you to get hip and buttock enhancements – want something nice and plump when I spank you!  Ooooh!  There's a great specialist I could send you to.  Just outside Paris."  She was wriggling about so much that it was difficult for me to keep my head on her shoulder.

She wasn't ready for me when I tore myself from her grasp and stood up, shaking with rage, and pointing my finger at her.  "Who do you think you are?  What do you think I am?  You think you're so clever, being a psychologist and all that stuff.  Well I'm just as good as you are!  I'm a MAN and I'm not going to let you get away with this!"

But what I was saying gradually faded, and my hand dropped to my side.  She was looking up at me from the couch with her eyes wide open and her mouth forming a perfect "O".   But not of surprise!  Of delight!

"Oh Priscilla!  You are wonderful!  That is just a marvelous performance!  Oooh!  Say that bit again about me thinking I'm just so clever, would you? And that bit about you being a MAN?  You look so cute in that pretty dress even though it's far too big for you."  Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Now?  What are you going to say when I tell you that because you were naughty, I'm going to make you wear these"  She held up a pair of satin, pink panties (I realized why she'd left the room while I was in the corner) then spank you while you're wearing  them?  Going to fight me?"

End of part 2

And now for Rosie's stuff:

10

Dear Alan,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you, or kept in touch in you in any way, for such a long time, but my life has taken a strange turn and I really wasn’t sure what was happening until recently. I’m sure you’ll understand. I’m about to get married.  Yes, gasp!, never thought it would happen, but here we are. Her name is Samantha, though I call her Sam. She works as a freelance graphic designer, mostly for advertising companies and is very well off. Anyway, let me start from the beginning.

Remember how once when we were kids, for Halloween our sisters dressed us up in their old clothes and took us trick-or-treating? Well, last year, my sister talked me into doing it again, and it changed my life. We went to a party both dressed as Bavarian peasant girls – with the dirndls and all. I was kind of nervous at first, but then I saw that nobody took me for anything that else than a girl, I relaxed and started having fun. Eventually, I was asked to dance by a tall Cat-woman. Before the dance was over, I fell for her. She liked me, too, and we danced some more, than sat down and talked. I was more than a little surprised that, when I told her I wasn’t really a girl, she answered that she knew that right from the beginning. My sister joined us and we took off to another party. It was a pretty crappy one, so we went home, but the next day, Samantha, the Cat-woman called and asked me if I wanted to see her. So we went on a date. We went on a few dates, actually, before I noticed that it really wasn’t the same as it was at the party. So did she. We continued to see each other until she quite bluntly put it that she had enjoyed my company more when I was dressed up like a girl. I didn’t really know what to make of it until she suggested we go on a date with me dressed as a girl. (At that time, it sounded more like a suggestion from her side, but in retrospective, I know that it was a bona-fide ultimatum: either I put on a dress or she’d break up with me.)

Naturally, I wasn’t up for it, but she was so persistent and kept telling me how no one will make me for a man in drag… Ultimately, somehow Mavis got involved and you know how my sister is. The day after she was told about that, I was already waiting for Samantha dressed in a red knee length skirt and a white silk blouse. Samantha loved it, and even I had to admit I enjoyed that date. She was so attentive to me, kept opening the doors, moving my chairs, that stuff. And I liked it when she put her arm around my shoulders as we walked. Before, she never did that. She’s quite a tall and strong woman, even bigger than Mavis, and you’ve seen what she’s grown into. Anyway, when I was with her as a man, it would probably embarrassing for both of us if she did that. I know it would be for me.

Anyhow, after that date, I only got to see her en-femme. I knew that that was, if not anything else, at least way out of the ordinary, but I was too much in love to care. Mavis was no voice of reason either. Although, knowing what she’s like I have to give her credit of being patient enough for waiting until my third date as a woman before she put me in a dress and took me shopping. It was embarrassing, but on the other hand, exciting, as I imagined Samantha’s reactions to my new wardrobe. Beside the clothes, Mavis helped me become girlish in other ways. I couldn’t depend on her to do my make up each time I wanted to see Sam (that’s what I started calling her then), so she taught me how to do it. She taught me how to talk more like a girl, how to walk more like a girl, how to do everything. Unfortunately, unlike the dressing, that part of my femininity wasn’t as easy to cast aside so I started acting more and more like a girl even while I was dressed as a man. Now that I think of it, it didn’t get me more than a few strange looks at work, but even if it did – like I would care. I was so in love with Sam nothing else mattered.

Gradually, we were spending more and more time together, which naturally meant I spent more and more time as a girl. Almost all weekends at her place and once she took me for a week in her house by the sea. It was a bit of a bother because I couldn’t go swimming for obvious reasons – I lacked convincing breasts and had something extra in the groin, but other than that, it was marvelous.

Shortly thereafter I lost my job (long story, some other time) and she suggested I moved in with her. Mavis wasn’t that as all for it as before, but when I promised I’d visit her regularly, she went and packed my bags before I knew what was happening.

So there we are, I’ve been living as a woman ever since. Sam got me some very convincing breastforms and I find that tight control panties mostly do the trick for the extra part. I must admit that considering the time I was spending as one, it was hardly a big change in my life, though I’d like to say at I felt uncomfortable with my present lifestyle at least at the beginning, but I can’t. Think of me what you wish, but I enjoy living my life as a girl. And I’m madly in love with Sam and I know she feels the same way about me. We’re getting married, for heavens’ sake! At the moment we both enjoy me staying home, but I’d like to get another job somewhere in the future. Sam has no problem with it, as long as I do it dressed as a woman. Sexually, my life is also wonderful. Sam is a great lover and really knows how to use her strength to her advantage. It seems that every day we do something new, yet she still has a lot in store for me. She keeps talking about some surprise on our wedding night.

Now, I’d like to end this letter about how happy I am and to ask you that you be happy for me, but I can’t. You see, I think I kind of got you into this mess. Well, read on.

She proposed to me some time ago (very romantic, picked me up in her arms afterwards and carried me to our bedroom...) and just the other day, we were talking about the wedding itself.

When she asked me if there was anybody special I’d like at the wedding, I told her I always thought you’d be my best man.

She laughed and said, “Honey, you’ll be the bride at the wedding. Brides don’t have best men, they have bridesmaids.”

Please know that none of the following was my idea. Although disappointed, I accepted the fact that you’d be just one of the guests at the wedding. I talked it through with Mavis and she noticed how sad I was because of that and then she told that to Sam… well, to make a long story short, I’m now officially asking you: Would you be my bridesmaid? I know I’m asking a lot, but it would really mean a lot to me. Mavis and Sam’s sister will be some of the other bridesmaids. All lovely girls.

Love,

Your friend,

Betty (formerly John).

PS

If you do chose to accept (oh, please do), you should come early as the fitting for the gowns starts next week.

Dear Betty.

I don’t blame you for not trying to reach me – even if you did, I probably wouldn’t have responded. I showed your letter to my sister and it turns out that Holly and Mavis have been seeing each other regularly all this time, filling each other in on the details of our lives.

To cut it short, I’ll just say: Yes, I accept your invitation. It means a lot to me as well and I’ll be proud to be your bridesmaid. If Mavis hasn’t told you anything yet, this may come as a shock, but don’t worry. I’ll explain everything when I see you.

Love as always,

Alice (formerly Alan).

PS

As a bridesmaid, I hope I have some word in choosing my gown. No offense, but you brides sometimes get a little carried away.

11

“Julie, see if you can fit in a meeting with sales on Friday, please,” I said to my secretary as I walked into my office.

“Sure thing, Jim,” she said, rising up from her desk.

“What?” I said as she stood before me, blocking my way to my office.

“Nothing,” she said, “I just thought you had something in your hair.”

Even though she had almost a foot of height on me, in her pretty dark blue pinstriped pencil skirt and light blue silk blouse with ruffles at the front, she looked very soft and feminine. I noticed how she was straining it with her full breast and got a little excited.

“Well? Do I or don’t I?” I said, stroking her hip.

“There,” she said, pretending to flick something off my head, “It’s gone.”

She moved away and I opened the door to my office.

“Your wife called, by the way,” she said, “She said you should call her back.”

“Thanks,” I said and closed the door behind me.

“Hi, honey, Julie tells me you’ve called,” I said into the phone when my wife answered on the other side.

“Yeah. Look, I thought we’d go see my mother instead of shopping for that table today, is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” I said, “I didn’t really want to go either.”

“Great,” she answered, “But are you decent?”

“Of course I am,” I answered.

“Yeah, sure. What are you wearing today? I hope it’s not that slutty short skirt I bough you last month.”

“Nah, sorry. That grey dress with the jacket, you know, the Dior one,” I replied, “And the grey shoes.”

“Honey, you’ve got like a million of shoes. Just the color doesn’t help much. How high is the heel?”

“Oh, about three and a half inches,” I said, “Why do you want to know all these things anyway?”

“I guess you’re right, I’m probably over-reacting. Well, see you in a few hours,” she said and terminated the connection.

I sat down behind my desk, trying to get my papers organized when Julie walked in and locked the door behind her. Immediately I felt my penis respond by swelling up a little.

“I’m sorry, Jim”, she breathed as she moved close to me, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, ever since I saw you wiggle your ass in that dress.”

“Oh, Julie,” I said but couldn’t continue. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me in for a long, fierce kiss.

“Why don’t you get ready?” I whispered.

She stepped away to the couch in the other side of my office, took off her skirt and laid in on the couch neatly. Then she took off her panties.

“Want to fit it in for me?” she asked.

I nodded and opened my bottom drawer. Took out the double ended dildo and walked over to her. She gasped excitedly as I fit one end into her and strapped it around her waist. Then I knelt down and started kissing the tip of it, pushing it gently into her.

“Okay,” she breathed after a while, “Get up.”

She started to pull up the hem of my dress.

“No,” I stopped her, “I have to be neat too, today.”

Nodding, she unzipped my dress at the back and helped me step out of it. I folded it at the waist and put it down on the couch next to her skirt. When I was done, she put her arms around me and pulled me into her embrace. I slid one hand around her waist, toying with the straps of her garter belt. With the other hand, I took hold of the dildo and started rhythmically pushing and pulling it. Slowly, me made it back to my desk. I leaned over it, got the lubricant out of the drawer and handed it over to Julie, still remaining face down on the desk. She took off my panties, toyed with my erection for a moment, then I felt her fingers spreading the cool gel all around my rectum and into it. When she finally entered me, I clenched my legs around her and pushed myself down on her shaft. We remained in that position until I felt a powerful orgasm shake through her body. Reluctantly, I unlocked my grip on her.

She sat down on my chair, the dildo still in her. I crawled over the desk and into her lap, my leg around her. Slowly, I slid back onto her shaft and kissed her.

“I think you hurt my back with your heels,” she said.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said and kissed her again, “I’ll take them off next time.”

“Don’t,” she replied, “I like you in heels.”

I laid my head down on her shoulder, kissed her neck gently and started to rock myself on the dildo slowly.

“What would your wife say if she found out about us?” she asked, stroking my hair.

“Oh, she’s okay with that,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I continued, “I mean as long as we keep it like it is now. She said quite clearly – she uses my front and that’s hers only. As for my backside, it’s free for grabs.”

“Are you sure she meant it that way?” Julie asked.

“She knows her mother took me with her dildo,” I said, “She doesn’t mind.”

“Her mother?” Julie said, sounding shocked.

“Yeah. When they put me in skirts. I was staying with her for a while, for her to train me, as she said, and during that time, she also broke me in,” I answered casually, “Of course, she made me describe that experience to my wife in every detail and then Sarah said that it was okay with her.”

“Maybe she meant that it was okay if you did it only with her mother,” Julie said.

“Oh sweet Julie,” I kissed her neck again, “She used to have the maid ram me.”

“What? That sounds humiliating,” she said.

“Yeah, well, that was before she finally realized I wasn’t going to challenge her dominance,” I answered, “Anyway, what about your boyfriend? Would he mind?”

“Jeremy is a sweet little boy,” she replied, “But he still has a lot to learn. When he does, he’ll understand.”

“How did he like the dress you bought him?” I asked.

“He cried when I gave it to him, but he wore it in the end,” she said, “I had to spank him, though.”

“Oh, the poor boy,” I chuckled.

“Yeah,” she answered, “But you know my friend Lynn? I’ve hooked her up with one of my boyfriend’s buddies. The boys haven’t met recently, but I think it’ll be easier on them if they go through this together.”

“I wish my wife was as considerate as you are,” I said.

She didn’t say anything for a while. Then I felt her starting to rock her hips as well. After a while, she stopped and leaned me backwards. Fit a condom over my penis, then held me by my armpits, picked me up and placed me on the desk again, this time on my back. Then she started to pump it seriously into me.

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

And a Happy and Prosperous 2012 to you all!

This blog is now, officially, one year - and one week old!  I don't know if you all get the statistics - but the viewers for 2011 exceeded 120,000!  Wow!  I can't say that this blog became the meeting house I wanted - but must admit to being impressed.  I'd also like to welcome all my new viewers and hope that you enjoy coming here - and don't let anybody fool you - your comments are ALWAYS welcome here!

Have a few things to do today.  First of all?  Thank you Tammy for your recent posting.  (She still drives me nuts with jealousy!  Damn good looking - and happy with it!).  Raises a point that I brought up before and never got a firm answer to.  When I refer to a cross dresser or transvestite - should I address that person as "He" or "She"? (I dislike "Gurl" intensely).  I ask this because if I were a real woman addressing Tammy, I'd use "She".

In explanation.  I'm submissive to females - NOT to males.  If a woman addressed me as 'She', I'd get all sweet, sexy and submissive.  A guy calls me the same?  I'd get alll pissed off.  So I don't know how other people like myself want to be called by another male - see what I mean?

Rosie has been nice enough to update the old "Shrort-Bits" page that I've been using a lot recently.  I hope that she don't mind - but I've copied a paragraph from her recent e-mail:

As I've promised, I'm sending you a sort of edited version of the short bits. Probably it contains more of them than the version you already have, but more importantly, I've deleted those that obviously weren't finished.

What I've been aiming for were really short passages of text, no more than two or three paragraphs. As you can see, I've mostly failed and most of the short bits have turned into short stories spawning over a whole page or more. Some work on their own, others are just passages of text without a really powerful ending, owing mostly to the fact I've lost interest before I managed to finish them. Still, if you see them fit for publishing, please do. I won't mind if you publish my email address (either one - rosieinskirts@yahoo.com or petalro@gmail.com) either.

So?  Thank you Rose (I much prefer that to Rosie - and we've been friends for many years) .  I'm sure that if you'd like to send any compliments, she'd be delighted. Here's one of her latest.

9

It took me some time to recover from the thorough eating out Carol gave me. None of us ever intended to have sex at that moment but we couldn’t really help it. Talking about Carol’s husband got us soooo hot. In fact, the closer the day she’d bring him home drew, the more the details of his near past aroused us. I remember when she told me how her mother got him to wear swishy aprons around the house – I just laughed then. She might have even been offended by my reaction, I’m afraid. However, last week was a whole different story. Knowing she’d been at her mother’s was enough for me to feel a pleasant tingling between my legs. I couldn’t keep my hands off her and when she finally whispered in my ear about how succulent his ass looked in the tight silk dress that he wore, all I could do was to clench my arms and legs around her as a powerful orgasm shook my body.

I glanced at the clock, I should be getting dressed. At first I thought of wearing one of my business suits – one I like to put on when I know I’ll be spanking one of my men in the office. Stern lines, strict colors. I just love the looks on those guys’ faces when they see the dark blue skirt as I walk into my office. They just know one of them will lie down across it before lunch time. Or that grey slacks. Then I changed my mind. The poor thing will be scared enough already, I thought, better try to make this as pleasant as possible for him.

I hope he hasn’t seen Carol in this dress before, I thought as I zipped myself up in a lovely lilac silk dress I had bought for Carol. It made me look as non-threatening as I could be, in it’s long flowing skirts, the puffy elasticized sleeves, the tight bodice and the frilled, scooped neckline. Nah, he couldn’t have, I only bought it a month ago and Carol didn’t have the habit of dolling up for her husband. In fact, she has been letting her work wardrobe mix too much with her leisure wear. It was for both of us when we’d get together at lunch and she, wearing one of her new power suits we’d bought together, would tell me of how she put another one of her office boys in panties, but when the day was over, I liked to snuggle with the Carol I first met, in nice feminine dresses and frilly satin undies I could play with.

I heard them come in just as I had finished my makeup. I made out Carol’s friendly voice and his own by his brief replies. I guess it was mean of us not to tell him I still hadn’t moved out but then again, having to move back home wearing a dress must have been stressful enough for the poor darling. I waited a little longer before I decided to join them.

“Hello,” I sang, “So you must be that husband of Carol’s I’ve been hearing so much about.”

The look on his face! Frankly, I’ve never seen a deer caught in a headlight before, but when I do, it will look a hell lot less scare than that. His face went so pale I could count each stroke of brush he used to apply blusher to his cheeks. He turned to Carol, but before he could say anything, she raised his finger at him.

“Now, Priscilla,” she said sternly, “Behave yourself. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself to the lady?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on the poor girl,” I said to Carol, “We’ll get along just nicely, won’t we?”

I turned to him again, “Hi, I’m Janice.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he barely audibly breathed and moved forward to kiss me. I leaned down to him and beside the pecks on the cheeks he must have expected, kissed him full on the mouth.

“Janice will be staying here,” Carol said.

“What?” he jumped from my embrace, “But I thought -? Didn’t you say we’re moving back home?”

“We are, honey,” she replied, “Now don’t make me repeat myself one more time. Behave!”

“Why don’t you carry his bags to the bedroom, Carol,” I said calmingly, “Me and Priscilla will have a nice little chat.”

I put my arm around him and lead him to the sofa. Gently pushed him down and set next to him.

“So, Priscilla, how was it like living with your mother in law? Carol tells me you didn’t like it too much?”

“Not really,” he said meekly.

“Why not?” I asked, “From what I hear, Susan is quite a nice lady.”

He just gave me a sad look but kept quiet.

“Well, Priscilla?,” I said, “Aren’t you going to tell me what was wrong? If she was kind enough to give you a home for three months, the least you owe her is to be honest, don’t you think?”

“She made me do the housework,” he said quietly.

“You were staying at her house,” I replied, “Helping her out with her chores was the least you could do.”

“I guess,” he admitted.

“Well. Was there anything else? Carol told me you had just so many complaints,” I persisted.

He shrugged, rubbing the padded shoulder of his silk dress into my side.

“Did she beat you?” I asked softly.

A tear trickled down his cheek as he nodded.

“Does Carol know about this?” I asked.

“Yes. No. Yes-,” he began.

“Well now. Does she or doesn’t she?” I asked.

“It was Carol’s idea,” he sniffled, “The spanking I mean. So I told her about that. But she used to do it before.”

“She spanked you before?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“No. Just pushed me or slapped my ass sometimes,” he said.

“Oh, but that hardly counts as beating, does it?” I said, “Did it hurt?”

“Not really. It’s just that – “he paused for a while, “It was humiliating. And she always did it when we had guests. Or she’d pick me up in the air.”

“That sounds like fun,” I interjected, “What did she do? Hold you in her arms like her blushing bride?”

“Sometimes,” he replied, “Or she’d put me over her shoulder and slap my ass.”

“You said there were guests around. Who were they?”

“Friends of hers,” he shrugged.

“Lady friends?” I asked.

“Mostly.”

“Did you have any gentlemen visitors?”

“A few. But they were with her lady friends,” he said.

“Did she pick you up when they were around?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“How did they react?”

“The ladies or the men?”

“Both. All the ladies loved it. Some of them even picked me up themselves and spun me around. The men didn’t. In fact, Susan did this with most of the men that visited,” he said, “Or their friends did.”

“That doesn’t sound she was being mean to you,” I said, “Just ladies having some harmless fun. What do you think?”

He shrugged again.

“I heard she was also very nice to you,” I said, “Didn’t she buy you a lot of expensive clothes?”

“Yes, but they’re all women’s clothes,” he complained.

“Oh yes,” I said, “Carol mentioned you didn’t particularly like wearing skirts.”

“Not really,” he replied.

“What would you prefer to wear then? Pants?”

“Pants would be nice,” he said softly.

“You like wearing pants, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“I like wearing pants, too,” I said, “In fact, I wear them quite often to work. So does Carol. But when we’re at home, there’s nothing nicer than a soft silk dress, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“You’re wearing a dress now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“And doesn’t it feel nice? Doesn’t it feel light and unrestrictive?”

“I guess,” he said, “But the shoes aren’t very comfortable. They make my feet sore.”

“Well, the heels are kind of high,” I said, “I told Carol that four inches should be more than enough. But tell me, if you hate wearing dresses so much, why are you wearing one now?”

“They made me,” he said, “Carol and Susan.”

“They both made you?” I feigned surprise.

“Susan made me wear them, but it was Carol’s idea,” he said, “Please, why are you making me do this?”

“Hasn’t she explained to you yet? As I said, when we’re home, we wear what we like, when we go to work, we wear what’s required of us to wear. Me and Carol are businesswomen, so we wear suits to work.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, “Does that mean that if I get a job, I can dress as a man again?”

“Honey, you already have a job,” I said, “You are Carol’s wife. Well, Carol’s and mine actually. You know what’s in you job description?”

He shook his head.

“Can’t blame you, Carol’s never been much of a wife, to show you. On the other hand, you’ve just spent three months with her mother. That ought to give you a good idea what we’re expecting of you. Cook for us, clean up after us, wash our clothes, iron them, these sort of things. And of course, look pretty for us. That’s why you’re wearing a dress and high heels right now.”

I ran my hand through his long bleached hair then tugged it, so that he looked upwards. I lowered my lips down on his and pressed my tongue hard into his mouth. He didn’t resist for a moment and just as soon my other hand was on his hip so were his own around my neck.

“I’m glad you two are getting along so well,” Carol said as she suddenly came back to the living room.

He twitched, but I held him firmly by his hair and kept on kissing him.

“Well, aren’t you going to cuddle with me too?” Carol said when I broke off the kiss, patting her lap, “Or has Janice made you forget all about me?”

I smiled as he somewhat clumsily hopped from one sofa to another, right into Carol’s lap. Instead of kissing him, she laid him down across her knees and started slowly lifting his skirts.

“Good job with Priscilla, Carol,” I said, “He really is such a treasure.”

“Why do you keep calling her ‘him’ and Priscilla at the same time?” she asked, tugging at his panties.

“You’ve still got something left to do, don’t you?” I replied.

“Do I? Well, what do you think, Priscilla? What could I have possibly missed?” she said, poking at his ass.

I gave her poor frightened husband a conspirative wink.

“Oh, I know,” she exclaimed theatrically and pulled out his butt-plug, “I said I’d do it tonight, but might as well get over it now. No need to keep poor Priscilla confused. Here,” she turned to me, turning him in her arms, “Hold him for me please,” and handed him over to me.

I let his skirts fall back down around his legs and spun around.

“This really is fun, isn’t it, Priscilla?” I said and kissed him again.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Carol said, with her pants around her ankles and a pink strap-on jutting from her crotch. Priscilla’s eyes widened in horror, but the tent he was making in his dress didn’t go away.

“Don’t worry honey,” she said as I handed him back to her, “It’s only a small one, see? And I’ll oil you up nicely…”

She hiked up his skirts again, fitted a condom over his erection, lowered his skirts to around his knees and turned him over on the sofa. She lifted his skirts again, this time just enough to expose his plump buttocks and proceeded to lubricate his crack.

“Carol, honey, please don’t,” he cried.

“Shhh, baby,” she whispered to his ear, “You’ll like this.”

Saying that she placed the tip of the small dildo between his buttocks and pushed slowly. Priscilla cried and pleaded at first, but gradually the cries tuned down to quiet moans of pleasure.

“There,” Carol said after they were finished, turning Priscilla around yet again, “See?”

She pointed to her crotch. I lifted her dress up and saw that she had filled up her condom.

“You really liked that, didn’t you, Priscilla?” I said.

She only looked at me exhausted. I picked her up in my arms.

“Let’s run you a nice hot bath and then have a little nap, will we?” I said, “After all, I want you to be at your peak powers when I’m having fun with you tonight.”

The last thing is my new serial.   Just for God's sake?  Don't ask me where I got the title.  Damned if I know!
I really do hope that you enjoy it.  Here is Part 1.

CAREER PATHS MAY BE SLIPPERY WHEN WET.

By Bea

I fell in lust with Nancy the day I married her mother.  I know this sounds like inexcusable behavior for a groom on his wedding day, but there was some justification.  Well, maybe not justification per se, but a reasonable explanation if nothing else. But let me stop dithering about and explain.

You see, Rene my wife is a lot older than me and her daughter at twenty three only a few years younger.  Rene is a very good looking woman and looks nothing like her age. Petite, trim, and very well looked after.  Lustrous dark hair and always an amused expression lurking in her eyes.

I was working in a computer shop when I met her.  She was a well known Psychologist with a string of well-received books to her credit and a fairly steady income from the lecture circuit.  She'd been doing all of her work on an old 386PC, but had become very interested in the Internet – and estimated that she needed a much higher capacity machine for her scheduling, currency conversions, hotel and airline bookings , and suchlike.

My boss, Sheila, who owned the shop where I worked didn't really trust me with the job, but her best analyst Tracy was contracted to another job, and second best Dorothy had a rotten cold – so she threw me into the breach.  The job was relatively easy.  All I had to do originally, was set the machines up and hang around with her for a few days to make sure that she understood the processes, software and so on.  As my apartment was  fairly close to hers, and quite a ways from the store, it was settled that it was better for everyone concerned if I went to Ms Marchant's (Rene) house first each morning.  If she didn't need me, I could then go to the store.  If she did, then I stayed with her as long as was necessary.

I may as well admit that I was a virgin at that time.  I was scared of calm, self possessed women – well in all honesty?  Just about ALL women.  I did NOT get on well with males at all. Wasn't scared of them exactly.  Just didn't seem to have anything in common with them. As is probably obvious, I led a fairly lonely life.

 I'd been an only child and with my parents being killed in an accident some years before, and with my only remaining relative – a cousin - on the far side of the country, my social life wasn't exactly a 'whirl.

So here I am alone with a charming, intelligent, woman who always surveys me with an amused glint in her eyes, who always listens intently to anything I say  - which as I'm not used to this, makes me stutter and stammer like a schoolboy. I'm a good three or four inches taller than she is, but it becomes obvious after a day or two in her company, she is the hunter, I am the prey.

She will lean over me as I'm explaining something about the computer, her breasts softly rubbing against my shoulders, her hair rustling slightly against my jaw.  Either that, or she pulls a chair close to mine, and her thighs and legs rub against me.  I kept on telling myself that she was coming on to me and to act like a man. At the same time, what if I was wrong and she complained to Sheila?  My job wasn't much, but it had been the only one I could find.  Sure, she and Tracy and Dorothy treated me like dirt – but I think they were gradually allowing me to join in on their conversations, even invite me to lunch now and then.  That being about the total extent of my social life, I didn't want to spoil it. 

(The real answer I guess, was that I didn't know how to act like a man).

I've heard that women can't stand ineffectual men.  This wasn't the case as far as Rene was concerned.  She seemed to be constantly curious as to how far she could go before I reacted. Spoke to me using lots of double entendre's – started calling me "little Billie" or 'Sweet William" somehow making them sound like feminine designations. Would lightly caress my neck or ears with her fingertips.  Once she even nuzzled my neck with her lips.  I almost told her she had gone too far, and thought about maybe filing sexual harassment charges against her.  But the thought of how everybody would laugh at this blew that idea out of the water.

Then one day she informed me that she had 'rented' me from Sheila for the next week or two.  That way I could get to keep my mind on working for her.  That day was the first time she took me sexually.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not gay.  I WANTED to have sex with her.  I just didn't know how.  I'll admit that it felt all wrong to me – I knew that I should be the aggressor, just felt that she was so much more sophisticated and worldly wise that she'd laugh at my blunderings -  and so constantly held back.

But she didn't hold back.  Not at all.  She'd discovered I could cook, so I'd been making the occasional lunch now and then.  That morning she yawned. "Don't know why I feel so sleepy" she purred. "Billie?  Why don't I go and put something more comfortable on?  And while I'm changing?  Why don't you go and make lunch for us – there's a nice bottle of wine in the fridge.  Let's get decadent and have it for lunch? Huh dearie?"

"All right Mrs. Marchant" I said nervously.  "Anything special you want?"

She turned and gave me a lascivious grin. "Oh Yes!  And I'm going to eat it ALL up!  But Billie?  While I think on it?  I bought a new apron.  That old one of mine that you wore last week was so tatty, I was embarrassed. The new one's hanging in the kitchen.  Wear it for me, will you?"

"Okay Mrs. Marchant."

"Billie dear?  If you call me Mrs.  Marchant again, I'm going to put you over my knee!  My name is Rene.  Now SAY it!"

"I'm sorry  . . Rene."

"That's better dearie.  Now of you go like a good little pussy cat.  Make Rene's lunch – scat!"

I got a shock when I saw the apron. Surely she didn't intend for me to wear something like that? It was made of some soft shiny fabric, almost transparent and in an indeterminate color – a sort of soft rose pink. It was heavily ruffled at the bib, and LONG!  Almost ankle length.  Not only that?  The skirt was very full – and tiered!  Almost like a long dress for goodness sake.

I was so positive that she'd made a mistake that I looked everywhere else that she normally kept aprons, but couldn't find any.  Blushing furiously  (what would she think if I'd put on this frilly feminine thing, and it was the wrong one?)  I put it on over my head, and tied myself in at the back.  Then I set to making lunch.  Opened the wine bottle and set it out to breathe.  Hard boiled a few eggs, tore up some lettuce, chopped in some tomatoes and green peppers – then put everything in a bowl and popped it in the fridge to chill a little more. Started making a salad dressing

I never heard a sound. The first intimation I had that anyone else was beside me was the feel of a silk enshrouded warm, strong, arm encircle my waist and hug me.

"Ooh!  You look nice" she whispered, as I damned near died of fright.

"What's the matter?" she said next. "You've gone as white as a ghost.  Did Rene scare her little pussy?"

With that, she gave me a long kiss.  I wanted so much to sweep her up into my arms, but seemed fated to be cast in the passive role as her tongue gently probed between my lips, then enlarged its way into my mouth poking aggressively all the way in.

Then I was free of her again, standing dazed as she smiled at me. "That apron?" she said "It's almost like a dress on you." She leaned forward and touched my lips gently. "I'm afraid that my lipstick shade doesn't go too well with it, but you don't mind, do you?"

Confused, I didn't know how to answer this question. What would happen if I said 'yes'? Would she get the inference that I didn't want to be kissed any more? The safest bet seemed to be 'no', which is what I said.

She was wearing a filmy blue peignoir over a rich satin nightgown, frothing with lace at the scoop neckline, but a simple sheath down over her hips, thighs, and legs down to dainty little slippers peeking out .  She smiled as I gazed at her admiringly.

"Never dawned on me puss.  I should have thought when I bought that apron for you.  But me in blue, you in pink?  Almost like a role reversal, isn't it?"

"Aw Mrs. – I mean Rene? I'm not a girl" I stammered.

"Of course you're not!" she laughed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well?  I don't know," I said haltingly. " But you talk about me as if I'm wearing a dress – a pink one at that and , and, and - you talked about me as if I was wearing lipstick and, and - you call me little puss – and I'm bigger than you are!" I ended despairingly

She came and hugged me again. "You are SO cute!" she laughed.  "Bigger than me indeed!  But here!  That's not a very pretty bow you have on your apron.  Let me fix it for you."

And I stood helpless as she untied, then re-tied my bow to her satisfaction. "There!" she said, giving me a light slap on the rear.  "Think you'd know how to tie a bow at your age! Now?  When's lunch, BIG pussy?" Then she roared with laughter at the expression on my face. "Doesn't quite sound right, does it?" she laughed. "Like me to call you 'Duke'?" she asked after a second.

"Sounds like a dogs name to me" I said, hurt. "I'm not a pet!"

"Never heard of John Wayne? Don't think he was anybody's pet.  That's what they called him.  Didn't you know that?" She was still smiling, but there was an undertone to her voice now.

"I'm sorry" I said.

"That's better!" she laughed.  "Of course, there's always 'Patty' as in Patty Duke, the actress.  Is that better?  Would you prefer Patty?"

I started to complain, but I was in her arms again, being kissed.

"Let's have lunch later Patty. Okay?  Let's go to bed now."

And somehow, I found myself in her bedroom, lying on top of the bed, my shoes and socks off and my pants being removed. I did try and assert myself, but seemed to get nowhere, except further and further into her embrace, lying passive and docile as she kissed and fondled me.

"Doesn't this feel nice?" She cooed, wrapping the loose flowing material of her peignoir around my arm. "Doesn't this turn you on?  I'll let you borrow it if you want?”  Then she bunched some of the same material and laid it in my penis, the heat from her warm hand coming through the layers of material.

I shook my head with a great effort of will, but she just laughed. "I know you don't mind that - little Patty in her pink dress.  Not really.  Here. Rene wants you to do something for her, okay?"

I just looked up at her, helpless and dumb.

She smiled and unfastened a glittering bracelet from around her wrist. "Don't want to lose this bracelet dear.  You don't mind?"

I had no idea why she was doing what she was, but later figured that she was putting her 'brand' on me, because it wasn't but a few minutes later that I was lying there gasping as she straddled, then mounted me, my arms helplessly up in the air, the jeweled bracelet moving up and down my arm as she rode me to a culmination for both of us.

Sleepily, happily, I looked up at the proud woman straddling me. My limp organ, wet and warm somewhere underneath her.

"Gonna have to make an honest woman out of you now puss.  We'd better get married, I guess" she said.

I was too dazed to reply. Too intimidated to correct her.  After all – what would an older, well-to-do lady see in me?  She HAD to be joking, right?

But she wasn't.  From that point onwards, it seemed be accepted as a fact.  I was asked ('told' is probably more accurate) to give up my apartment and move in with her.  She then 'hired' me away from Sheila's and I became her full time 'companion' ('sex toy' is again, more accurate).

I certainly wasn't caring, because I enjoyed the sex a great deal, even though there were certain aspects that I didn't care for.  For example, I was never allowed to initiate the sex between us.  I did try a couple of times, but she just giggled and pretended to be a helpless female.  Would throw out her arms and shriek "Take me, you HUNK! Finally!  I got me a GREAT stud!  A John Wayne clone!" At that point any erection I had would go and hide in shame, leaving me a scornful woman to contend with.  Then she'd take over the aggressive role, and my erection would return – which she noticed every time. "Or should I have said Joanne Wayne my little puss cat?" – or something just as equally emasculating as she mounted me.

Another weird thing she did?  Always wanted me to wear something feminine when we made love. Usually just one article – though once it was a garter belt and stockings.  Most of the time though it would be an item in the cosmetics line – Lipstick, Blusher, mascara – perfume.  She'd usually get me very horny, then tell me what I had to put on, before putting me under her.  Then she'd jeer quietly at me as I put whatever it was on. (This also served to excite me - as she pointed out every time without fail).

I also took over the cleaning of the house, the cooking, and the laundry.  She was grateful for this but made no bones about the fact that she expected me to do it – and do a bloody good job, or she'd know the reason why!  I didn't really mind doing this stuff.  For one thing it was easy, for another it was something I could do well – and was appreciated. At the same time, not wanting Rene to know this, I did some minor grumbling about it – which she seemed to ignore completely.

But even this assignment ended up leading  to an episode of total humiliation.

I was vacuuming the living room carpet one morning.  In the approximate center of the room there was a large octagonal coffee table with a plate glass surface set into the top for the surface.  It was a heavy table, and difficult to shift, but after a real struggle I got it moved far enough away from its normal spot,  that I could clean the area.  I got that done, then found that I needed the bathroom.

I was in the bathroom less than a minute but when I got back Rene was standing there leafing through one of her reference books.  She looked at me over the top of the book, smiled, and went back to her reading – calm, cool, and collected.

I was amazed.  "How'd you do that?" I said, pointing at the table now back in it's original position.

"Do what puss?"

"Move that table back there.  I had a terrible job moving it over there."

She shrugged.  "Could see that you'd cleaned there.  Thought you might have forgotten to put it back, so did it for you.  Was I wrong?"

I scratched my head, mystified. "But how did you manage it – and so quickly. It's really heavy!"

She smiled condescendingly. "Wasn't any kind of bother dear. I'm probably stronger than you.  No problem."

I'd had it with my masculinity being constantly maligned. "Ha!" I snapped.  "Must be some kind of knack to it.  You stronger than me?  Hah!"

She put a bookmark in her book and put it down on the table.  "You intimating that you're stronger than me?" she purred. "Oh you silly Billie!"

Stung to the quick, I retorted without thinking.

"Oh for goodness sake Rene!  Of course I'm stronger than you!  I'm bigger, heavier, and it's a well known fact that men have much greater bone mass than women. Gives us more musculature – more bulk, more strength."

"You feel strongly about this, huh?"

"Yes!" I replied.

"Enough for a little wager?"

"Sure! But I don't have much money." I said.

"Okay.  We can do without money.  Tell you what.  We can Indian wrestle – best out of three?"

"Thought you wanted a wager?" I sneered.  "Backing out now?"

Her eyes narrowed and she squinted at me for a minute. "Tell you what," she announced. "You win?  No housework for a month.  You lose?  You wear a dress for the rest of the day. How's that?"

"I'm not wearing any dress.  No way!" I snapped.

She gave me a lazy smile.  "Starting to think I might beat you now?  Want to back down? Admit that I'm stronger than you?"

I was basically hoisted on my own petard.  I had come across as being super confident that I could win, now it would appear that all I had been doing was an empty boast – if I started quibbling about the cost to me if I lost. At the same time, how could I possibly lose?  "Let's go Rene. Best of three.  Right?" I said.

She led me into the dining room where the table was the right height.  She angled a chair towards a corner of the table, then sat down.  I did the same, so that we were facing each other across the corner of the table.  Carefully, she put her elbow on the table, forearm pointing straight up.  I did the same.  Our hands met and clasped. Hers felt soft and warm, and I noticed for the first time how beautifully tended her fingernails were.

"Anybody lifts an elbow from the table is automatically DQ'd.  Right?" she said.

"Absobloodylutely!" I grinned.  "You want to call?  On a count of three?"

"My pleasure" she said "One!  Two!  THREE!"

And the back of my arm and hand were flat down on the table!

Aghast, I couldn't believe it. Rene saw this. "I'm sorry puss.  Maybe I jumped the gun.  Why don't we just call that a practice run.  And?  This time, you can make the call – okay? That way you won't be surprised."

What she had said was the only logical explanation. I smiled.  "That's very nice of you Rene.  Sure, let's do it again." 

This time, I did the count – but the results were exactly the same.  Maybe I was beaten in an even shorter time frame because the back of my hand stung from hitting the table surface so hard.  I also thought I felt my bicep muscle strain from being bent so quickly.

"Want to do it again Duke?  Sorry  - Patty?" she grinned mockingly.

Humiliated beyond words, I nodded.

"Okay dear.  Get your little handy wandy up on to the table," she mocked.

Shamefaced I did.

This time, she exerted absolutely no strength at all, other than to just keep her hand upright, while I tried with all my strength to budge it.  Slowly then, staring me straight in the eyes, she just pushed my arm backwards.  I even lifted my elbow from the surface to give myself leverage, but she just kept on smiling and pushing my arm back.  Near tears with the humiliation , I said "Okay Rene.  You win."

"Thank you pussy." She said.  "Just about finished your vacuuming?"

"Yes.  All I have to do is put the vacuum away"

"Good!  Do that and we'll get going."

"Going?   Where?"

"To buy your dress, silly Billie.  What else would we be going for?"

"I thought . . I thought . ." I stammered.

"Thought what dearie?  That I'd let you off?"

I blushed. "No.  Not that.  I thought you'd want me to wear one of yours. One of your old ones I mean."

"Try and squeeze all of that bone mass and bulk into one of my flimsy dresses?  Why you'd ruin it, you hulking brute!  No! I want you to experience the pleasure a girl gets when she buys her first grownup dress.  Just wait.  It'll be such a thrill!"

"Rene?  Please?"

"You're not trying to welsh on your bet, are you?  I mean you can't possibly be thinking of not paying, are you?" The amusement was gone from her face. "I really hate welshers!" she added.

"No Rene.  Well, kinda.  Please don't do this. Please give me one of your old ones?  It wasn't a part of the bet that I had to go and buy one."  I added the last part hopefully.

She shook her head. "Come on Patty.  Time to pay up.  Pay up like a man and put your dress on!" she crowed.

End of part 1

Getting ready.....

Hi Everyone,
Haven't posted in awhile, but I always lurk around ;) I don't get to shave my legs too often, but my oh my what a difference it makes. Immediately feel much more fem and vulnerable once your legs are smooth. For me, I feel them even without pantyhose on, but its almost overwhelming when I begin to slid pantyhose up my smooth legs. The feel of the slip or dress is just so much more sensual when my legs are shaved. Hope you all get the chance to do it occasionally too. I generally knock down most of it with my beard trimmer first and then use Pantene conditioner instead of soap or shave cream, and I never have any nicks or cuts. Thought I'd show you all the before and after. Hope you all had a wonderful new year. Have any shaving secrets to share yourselves?