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By *orcsmat OP Man 46 weeks ago
Kidderminster |
Our street decided to hold a street party for the queen’s silver jubilee. Yes, this was 1977. My wife and I became members of the community. She worked from home and I worked shifts so we had a lot of daytime availability.
Apart from the food, the entertainment and the decoration, the theme for the evening adult’s session was discussed. One guy suggested topsy, turvy competition, a title that has fallen into disuse. It means the girls were to dress as boys and vice versa. Fortunately, it was not I who suggested it so no ulterior motive could be ascribed to me. But I was delighted. I always wanted an opportunity to dress in female clothes.
Putting all the other preparations aside, we also shopped for second-hand items that I could use. 1977 had not yet become the era of the charity shop. The only thing I really needed was a wig. Blonde for choice but I was not going to be fussy and arouse too many suspicions. We got one in a local party shop.
The rest was easy. My wife had the same size feet as me and she had a couple of pairs with modest 3” heels. I had my eye on a strappy pair of fuck-me shoes. The rest was going to be difficult. We were the Victorian postcard couple. I was skinny but, to be polite – she was not, so she did not possess much clothing that would fit me. Except for this wrap-around pale blue skirt. I chose that. We got hold of a blouse and a smaller bra than my wife wore. I thought size GG tits would look a little incongruous. I also purchased a pair of sheer, grey stockings. I was also not very hairy so they did not notice through the nylon.
The day went well. The kids had a great time; the local paper came and photographed our decorations for the paper; I’d extended my speaker leads so they could go in the front garden and there was a tremendous air of community.
But I was looking forward to the evening. When it came around, I shaved as close as I could and my wife helped with the makeup. She was not taking part – her tits and size militated against that. She had objected heavily to my purchasing a pair of frilly knickers so I had to content myself with wearing the smallest pair of pale underpants that I owned. I had to hide the fact that I was getting an erection as I slid the stockings up my legs and fastened them to the suspenders. My hands were trembling as I put my fingers inside the nylons to secure the fasteners.
Then I donned the wig with help from my wife to set it straight. I looked in the mirror and was confronted by an attractive woman staring back at me.
Lastly came the shoes before I stepped out the front door. I knew the effect worked well as I received gasps from my female neighbours. The young girl next door even said how good I looked. With a very good sense of balance, I was able to walk easily in the heels, knowing they changed my gait so I could sense my hips swaying as I walked. The feel and swish of nylon rubbing between my thighs was electric. The skirt was unbuttoned above my knees so a shapely leg showed as I walked. I was sorely tempted to unbutton it further so the tops of my stockings and my pale thigh above showed. But I did not.
We had hired a DJ and his gear for the evening. I joined in the dancing and was proclaimed the winner at 9 pm. I had absolutely no wish to remove the clothing. I wanted this delightful feeling to continue. I was with sadness that I had to remove the makeup and clothing before bed. I’d have loved to have kept the stocking on to fuck my wife, but I could sense from her mood, that that was not going to happen.
That was also the last occasion I cross dressed for many years. The next time (actually more than 10 years later was far more traumatic. |
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