Halle
- 4 years ago
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How Do You Get To Carnegie Hall? free porn video
Sorry, this is a little long.
I need to lay this one to rest (I think) about the sex thing and the guys I’ve been with. Especially after talking to some of my gf’s on here and I think we all agree on it. I have given this some thought – at least more thought than I do when I’m spreading for a cock…
Most of the guys who got into our pants, panties, knickers or ‘other’; aren’t gay. Maybe bi, but certainly not gay. Most of mine – maybe with the exception of Roger - were all man. They wanted the ‘something different’ we were offering and we were more than glad to take them up, or down, on that.
I’ve had this conversation with some others and; sometimes about specific guys, like, for instance…my Dear Jack. He was all man; 100% man; what he wanted was someone who would treat him that way; someone to love, honor and respect him. He was old school, he was also older than I was, he expected his ‘lady’ to obey and respect him. When he got you in bed (and about anywhere else) he was the person in charge.
What this got him, with someone like me was, all of that and also a burning desire to be better at being a fem sissy…his girlfriend. I WANTED to always look my best when I was with him; that went for clothes, makeup, attitude and mannerisms. Especially the way I acted in public – most of the time anyway – I couldn’t just be a ‘guy in a dress’. I wanted to be so good at it that people had to look three times! My mother taught me a lot of that just by listening to her talk to my sister and…watching what she did.
Without really knowing it, she taught me how to ‘present’ myself in heels. I grew up on a farm but, didn’t walk like a farm girl; especially in heels.
Most of the guys I dated, or lived with, loved this about me. From the front I was okay and could pass…from the ‘rear’, most could swear that they were following a real girl. Jack marveled at that one little thing; as did a few others.
How do you get to Carnegie Hall…practice baby…practice.
This little bitch didn’t have all of the right equipment but; I used what I had, to the max. After a while, it just becomes part of you; it’s automatic, just like most GG’s.
It’s all in the moves.
I used to hate walking behind a GG and watching her ‘stomp’ along or worse; walk like a farmer down a plowed field. It’s a matter of grace and poise.
I actually ‘studied’ Lauren Bacall for many years; that broad is still sex on the hoof! All you have to do is watch how she interacted with Bogy; all female.
Very few of ‘us’ seem to try to do any of this. I’ve watched – they don’t.
Most of the men in our lives are ‘men’. As sluts/girlfriends and lovers; we’re giving them what most GG’s won’t. Well, they give it until they say ‘I do’ then; it becomes, ‘I don’t’ after a while. Most of us sluts know the value of being tossed in bed and messed-up really good…we also know how to make you want it then, thank you when it’s over. Many of us can also be a lady in public when we should be. I think Jack got an erection watching me walk to the girls’ room.
I had one of our favorite waitresses (when Jack was doing something else) pay me the compliment of saying that, “Bobbie, you’re the only ‘one’ I’ve met like you. Honey, if the others are like this; I wouldn’t want you anywhere around my man.” That was a very nice compliment!
Most people judge or ‘see’ what they want to see, based on a first impression. A quick glance; to these guys in the bar, they saw ‘bitch!” pussy and a bed for two.
When a girl talks to you, she’s mostly curious and mostly just being nice; when most guys talk to you – especially a stranger – he’s interested. I don’t care if he’s looking at you as a slut, a whore or, just an easy lay; if he starts the conversation, he’s looking for more than just talk.
I found this out when I was working as a whore and; when a guy approached me, dialed it up to the top. It was all about making a living.
When I worked at the one place (where the black boss/owner was fucking me) I was hit on by a few guys after being there for a while. Casually at first then; more after they got to know me and had been in bed with me a few times. I’d just be groped anywhere they pleased. When one of them came into my little office and closed the door; I was always pretty sure I was about to be hit on along with some groping. When the boss came in and locked the door; it was a sign that I was going to be on my knees or bent over my desk.
I remember waiting for Jack one night, one of our favorite places, and I was sitting in the bar. Now…I was dressed a little better than usual but; I’d taken the normal amount of time on makeup and hair, I’d done my nails and I was in a pair of 4” heels. The skirt I had on was below the knee but; about slit up to my ass on one side. It was one of the only times that he was late and; there were a few guys in there after working hours.
I didn’t buy a single fucking drink…not one. As I ordered, some guy down the bar covered it…okay…he’d had a few maybe. And ‘bar’ lighting is about the worst in the world! I was there for almost an hour, they talked to me, they entertained me and; I got hit on a few times.
Poise – grace – attitude. (Mom) “Tilt your head just a little when he’s talking to you, head down a touch then peek up at him, cross your legs like a lady and pull the skirt down nice, sit up straight and arch your back just a little, try to keep your hands in your lap” and other gems for my sister.
They knew I was waiting for my ‘boyfriend’; I’d told them that. It didn’t matter; I had offers of dinner, a ride home, Disneyland, the nearest motel and, things other than a cruise, most nice and dirty.
When Jack arrived, he walked right to me and, I gave him a nice big kiss before introducing him. What counted was (other than my over-inflated ego then) what ‘I’ did; it was most of what I’d learned and it’s all simple body language.
I very nicely turned so that I was mostly facing him then; wrapped both of my arms around his closest one. He instantly had 80 or 85% of my attention, just like that. We still talked with them but I was Jacks’, my body language told them that. He almost choked as he helped me down off of the bar stool. As we walked away, I turned to them and said, “Excuse us guys, I’m gonna get this stud to feed me then fuck me…see ya later and thanks for the drinks.” Then; put on my best wiggle, they deserved at least that much. Yes, there were times that I embarrassed that poor man to death; he wasn’t a prude but, Bobbie could be a tad crude at times…it’s all in fun anyway.
There are some other humorous stories like that.
Being in a bar and, have a guy who’s a department head at work, not only hit on you but take you home. I did make a point of telling him what I was; it didn’t matter to him. At one point, in the bar, he did give me a pretty good groping so he knew what he was getting. He passed out on me; once we got to his apartment and, was given a pair of autographed panties with my phone number on them. I saw him almost every day at work and it took him about a month to call me. He was going through a divorce and horny as hell – I don’t know how a woman could let that 10 inch cock get away. And that was on a white guy!
At work…
When I met Jack I was working as an independent bank courier; for one of the bigger banks in Pittsburgh. Everyone took me as I was and were friendly to me; the female couriers and the girls in receiving for us. Most of the male couriers avoided me; especially after the ‘kissing incident’ with one of them. Everyone else thought it was a hoot.
One night the girls and I were saying good-bye and passing out hugs and kisses. One of the guys piped up and said, “Hey, where’s mine?” He was holding his arms out so I walked over and planted a big wet one on him. There were a few seconds of shock then, he recoiled. Hey, he wanted a kiss!
Jack called the dispatcher one night to leave a message that I should call him. It was company policy that he didn’t call or page me when I was working. I called him back while in her office. We talked for a few minutes then he said, “See you soon, I love you.”…without thinking I said, “Love you too honey.” and hung up.
“Wasn’t that a ‘guy’ you were just talking to? You told him you love him?”
“My boyfriend, he’ll be a little late tonight.”
“Your boyfriend…a real boyfriend…I mean you date and, you know…?”
“Yes dear, all of that; especially the ‘you know’ thing. We have a good relationship and he’s damned good in bed.” I let that lie for a minute then said, “Jack’s straight as an arrow hon; I’m the one on my back.”
Most people don’t think (maybe) that ‘we’ have an abnormal but normal life. All that most of them saw was a sissy fag in women’s clothes. Of course I was teased, word of this spread like a wildfire.
She just looked at me before smiling. I guess they didn’t figure on me having a boyfriend or a lover? Surprise!
And, my dear Jack wasn’t gay or bi, as some had speculated. I explained that he was all man…he just wanted more of a ‘woman’.
The thing is that I wasn’t a flouncing queen at work. I dressed and acted just like most of the other girls there. My hair was longer but kept in a pony tail or a bun; I wore a company shirt (mine was the one for the women and buttoned down the front). I always wore a bra, tasteful slacks – a little tight in the butt – and either panties or a brief panty girdle with ankle socks and nice shoes. My nails were usually neat and well kept and, yes, I did wear tasteful nail polish. In nice weather I wore shorts. No one seemed to mind that they were a little shorter and, damned tight across my ass. There was no ‘bulge’ between my legs because of the girdles or a gaff I sometimes wore and; I have a very small package anyway. I have an overbite. No Adams Apple, hips that are a little wider and shoulders that aren’t too wide for a ‘girl’. With very little facial or body hair; all I needed was a little foundation and some toned-down lipstick to make things work. And, since I was 14 or 15, I’ve always had pretty nice legs to show off; they look especially nice in heels and stockings.
My favorite branch in Corry, Pa. …
(I was actually involved in a robbery there once – walked in on it)
Like most country branch banks, most of the employees were women. Corry was all women, right up to the manager. I did my pick-up as they were closing or just after; most of the time they were busy with work so I’d grab my pouches; say a quick ‘hi and bye’ and be gone. Everyone there was very nice and friendly with me and, for quite a while, I don’t think that they even noticed ‘what’ I was. They were always preoccupied with work.
I arrived a little early one day and they were still open. The one teller made a comment about the time and I just said that I was running early, I could wait as long as it took. She worked and we talked just a little more. She did look at me a few times; this was the most time I’d ever been in the bank. Her looks became more appraising in nature as she sniffed the air…yep Channel #5. It’s what I always wore, she’d just realized that. She looked me over a little more and it suddenly became clear that something was wrong with the picture she was getting. I was wearing a new girdle that day, a nicer one that really accented my ass in those slacks. We went back and forth on the conversation until, she asked me to step back from the counter. I did then turned around. I gave her a profile, while pushing my little boobs out then, gave her a good look at my ass.
“OH my God…you are!”
She’d seen the outline of the girdle, the zipper in the back of my slacks and the faint outline of my bra. A few of the other girls were now watching; they smiled, they laughed and some giggled. Most of this crew was over the age of thirty and some were fifty plus. There was a feeling that something changed that day…for the better. I started to notice that, on other days, the atmosphere was more friendly, more relaxed and comfortable than before. I wasn’t just ‘the courier’ anymore; I was suddenly Bobbie. It made me feel pretty good.
Like the others I worked with and interacted with; we now had something in common. That was sweet.
I didn’t end my run until (most days) seven pm. It was my birthday and Jack wanted to pick me up at work and take me to a little place in Pittsburgh (right across the river) for drinks and dinner. Since I didn’t have time to go home and change; I hung a dress in the truck. It was just a slip-over in a nice flower pattern that had a belt. Shoes…I took shoes too. A pair of nice navy pumps with an ankle strap and 4” heels.
My plan was to change at the main branch, walk outside and Jack would be waiting for me. I made sure I had a decent pair of nude stay-ups and panties – I WAS ditching the girdle for comfort! I had a little makeup along.
I changed in the one bathroom, fixed everything then started to walk outside; right through the main work area.
Everyone there was in jeans, old slacks, old shirts and smocks…a few company jumpers.
As I strutted along, saying good-night to everyone I was met with stares – totally blank stares. Until…someone said, “Bobbie?” that got everyone’s attention right now. This included one female courier who was just coming through the door. Ok; they’d never seen me with my hair down, a dress and heels plus, some quick and dirty makeup. The attention was nice (I wish I had the pictures a few of them took) it made me feel pretty good all over. I did a little flouncy runway thing then left. Max, the one outside guard, was totally taken by surprise. I said my good-night to him and he undressed me, with his eyes, as I walked by. That’s always nice; to feel those eyes in places where their hands wanted to be. I turned and blew him a kiss before walking to meet Jack.
My boss had watched almost everything on the CCD cameras. I was asked not to do that ‘too’ often, “We don’t need multiple heart attacks here.” Then he chuckled. Dennis was about thirty-five, black and married; not bad looking either. I promised him that I wouldn’t; unless there was a special occasion…like Halloween?
Like a few other holidays; the banks decorated and dressed for the occasion. I checked with him early and he agreed that I could work, that day, in some kind of a costume. I just couldn’t wear a mask.
What he didn’t expect was a Parisian Whore; sort of subdued but, with fishnets, a short red leather skirt, padded bra and ‘slut’ heels. That day was memorable; to say the least. When I walked into a branch, any of my branches, you could almost hear necks snap! It was fun but my feet were killing me by the time I left Erie and, driving in those hell-heels wasn’t much fun at all. At least everyone heard me coming. The couriers who hadn’t seen me in the morning; got a real eyeful, at the unloading dock that night. A picture of me appeared on the bulletin board a few days later with the inscription, “For a good time call Bobbie” and a phony phone number. All in fun. I never did find out who did the picture but I had my suspicions.
Maybe I underestimated Dennis and he wanted to bang me after all?
Of course I had to wear that costume for a party Jack and I went to that weekend.
I cut something like three inches off of the skirt and switched to all black lingerie; complete with a garter belt and new fishnets (they snag on everything!). Nope, the girdle was out of the question for that one.
There was another party we went to that year; I was a little tamer for that one. It was mostly friends of Jacks’ and I wanted to make a little bit of an impression. It would also be the first time we’d be seen together by them. It was nice then turned a little ugly at a point.
My dress was very, very tame for that one (and I could wear a little mask). Since it was costume or casual, I went ‘nice casual’. Short white chemise over a white bra (no padding this time, just me) a long-sleeved blouse, with the sleeves tastefully rolled up a little, tails tied in the front. An ankle length skirt (black) with a long slit up the side; good black stockings, black garter belt and cream white fancy, ‘high cut’ panties. My hair had been done a lot different than usual and…I thought it looked very good; for what Jack had paid for it. I wore it down. I did wear the same gawd-awful, nosebleed pumps. My guy had spent some money on decent jewelry for me and I wore what I could. Part of it was a matching set of earrings and a beautiful gold necklace. He loved buying me no end of sporty things to wear.
Anyway…
A few hours into the party I’d been introduced all around and the talk was buzzing like hell. I was being eyeballed by almost everyone. At one point I went to use the toilet and wound up in a conversation with some women in the kitchen. What impressed them the most was the heels…the fact that I could walk in them without falling on my ass and…how the hell could I stand being in them so long? Also the fact that my stride seemed so natural.
Remember Carnegie Hall?
Later back on the patio, deserted by Jack again, I sat alone on a chair (just as I was ‘taught’ to by default) sipping my drink and behaving myself. Legs demurely crossed as a lady should – even though my little cock was dead and my balls were crushed – waiting for him to return from his current a*****ion.
About fifteen feet away there was a very refined woman sitting alone. She was obviously drunk and getting drunker by the minute; she was also staring a hole through me! She mostly stared, either straight faced or scowling a little, and that was it. When I moved, changed position or re-crossed my legs, she was like a vulture. Jack appeared across the patio and called to me to join him, I stood up, drink in one hand and started to walk past the woman.
She never moved, never blinked, never looked in my direction…until I was right next to her. In a flash she grabbed the hem of the skirt and yanked hard; that was the same side where the slit was (almost up to my ass). She pulled away and up; I started to turn away but she had yanked it up pretty far. My one heel caught a place between two stones; I turned a little more (by then tugging on the skirt and sending the drink in her direction). She’d managed to rip the slit up more and, in the process, exposed just about everything from my waist down. Down…I went down hard as hell! Just to make sure everyone got a good show; I landed on my back, feet in the air and now, really giving everyone an eyeful of my lingerie!
Realizing what she’d done; she disappeared in a flash. A few people dove to help me and, Jack showed up. I had safety pins and the hostess had some super glue for the one broken heel. After a few minutes in the kitchen; I was ready to go for round two. The woman was an aunt of someone there; she was drunk as a lord. Whatever she was looking for, under the skirt, was up for speculation. We figured it out later; she wasn’t sure about my sex and wanted to check it out!
Shit, all she had to do was ask!
As things calmed down and; I now had Jack guarding me against any further mayhem, we had a little time to talk about the evening and the people. There had been a lot of talk about ‘us’ and ‘me’; most of it not so bad. For the rest of the evening we floated and were grabbed for talk. I was surprised that most (maybe 51%) approved of me – approved of us – as a couple. Most of the guests knew WHAT I was and accepted it. Jack was over the age of consent and had been living alone for almost ten years at that point. They were watching how I acted around him; remember mom? That’s how I was acting; demure, ladylike and a little clutching, when I could get next to him. We were officially approved. ‘I’ was included in the conversations. They asked about my job and I told them. Jack corrected me after the second time, “Bobbie and I have been talking about that. I want ‘her’ to quit so that we can travel a little more and have fun.”
This was the guy who wanted me just the way I was; the way he’d found me (well, maybe not in a sleazy ABS) he’d even talked me out of a sex change operation but; we were going to Thailand anyway.
At this point he’d already told me that he loved me. He’d asked me to marry him or, at least at least become his ‘partner’ in crime. I was happy and content at that point. I’d already told myself that I’d say ‘yes’ if he asked me again. He waited too long; I waited too long and the chance was gone within a few more years.
Jack had retired at fifty-five. I saw his bank account(s) statement(s) once. On his retirement and pension, the equity in the house; a trip to say, the moon, wasn’t out of the question. With the stocks and bonds, we could even get back. My honey had…in one account…four CD’s worth over $500,000…each…yeah…each. I was making about $45,000 a year, gross. He had that much equity in the one bathroom of his house!
He also had k**s that wanted everything; down to the lint under the carpets. I hope they enjoyed all of the ‘home videos’ and toys they found in his bedroom closet.
When the end came they had blind-sided us very well. With a smart but crooked attorney; they had him committed, they used ‘me’ as the reason for his ‘imbalanced behavior’.
Ta-Dum.
I need to lay this one to rest (I think) about the sex thing and the guys I’ve been with. Especially after talking to some of my gf’s on here and I think we all agree on it. I have given this some thought – at least more thought than I do when I’m spreading for a cock…
Most of the guys who got into our pants, panties, knickers or ‘other’; aren’t gay. Maybe bi, but certainly not gay. Most of mine – maybe with the exception of Roger - were all man. They wanted the ‘something different’ we were offering and we were more than glad to take them up, or down, on that.
I’ve had this conversation with some others and; sometimes about specific guys, like, for instance…my Dear Jack. He was all man; 100% man; what he wanted was someone who would treat him that way; someone to love, honor and respect him. He was old school, he was also older than I was, he expected his ‘lady’ to obey and respect him. When he got you in bed (and about anywhere else) he was the person in charge.
What this got him, with someone like me was, all of that and also a burning desire to be better at being a fem sissy…his girlfriend. I WANTED to always look my best when I was with him; that went for clothes, makeup, attitude and mannerisms. Especially the way I acted in public – most of the time anyway – I couldn’t just be a ‘guy in a dress’. I wanted to be so good at it that people had to look three times! My mother taught me a lot of that just by listening to her talk to my sister and…watching what she did.
Without really knowing it, she taught me how to ‘present’ myself in heels. I grew up on a farm but, didn’t walk like a farm girl; especially in heels.
Most of the guys I dated, or lived with, loved this about me. From the front I was okay and could pass…from the ‘rear’, most could swear that they were following a real girl. Jack marveled at that one little thing; as did a few others.
How do you get to Carnegie Hall…practice baby…practice.
This little bitch didn’t have all of the right equipment but; I used what I had, to the max. After a while, it just becomes part of you; it’s automatic, just like most GG’s.
It’s all in the moves.
I used to hate walking behind a GG and watching her ‘stomp’ along or worse; walk like a farmer down a plowed field. It’s a matter of grace and poise.
I actually ‘studied’ Lauren Bacall for many years; that broad is still sex on the hoof! All you have to do is watch how she interacted with Bogy; all female.
Very few of ‘us’ seem to try to do any of this. I’ve watched – they don’t.
Most of the men in our lives are ‘men’. As sluts/girlfriends and lovers; we’re giving them what most GG’s won’t. Well, they give it until they say ‘I do’ then; it becomes, ‘I don’t’ after a while. Most of us sluts know the value of being tossed in bed and messed-up really good…we also know how to make you want it then, thank you when it’s over. Many of us can also be a lady in public when we should be. I think Jack got an erection watching me walk to the girls’ room.
I had one of our favorite waitresses (when Jack was doing something else) pay me the compliment of saying that, “Bobbie, you’re the only ‘one’ I’ve met like you. Honey, if the others are like this; I wouldn’t want you anywhere around my man.” That was a very nice compliment!
Most people judge or ‘see’ what they want to see, based on a first impression. A quick glance; to these guys in the bar, they saw ‘bitch!” pussy and a bed for two.
When a girl talks to you, she’s mostly curious and mostly just being nice; when most guys talk to you – especially a stranger – he’s interested. I don’t care if he’s looking at you as a slut, a whore or, just an easy lay; if he starts the conversation, he’s looking for more than just talk.
I found this out when I was working as a whore and; when a guy approached me, dialed it up to the top. It was all about making a living.
When I worked at the one place (where the black boss/owner was fucking me) I was hit on by a few guys after being there for a while. Casually at first then; more after they got to know me and had been in bed with me a few times. I’d just be groped anywhere they pleased. When one of them came into my little office and closed the door; I was always pretty sure I was about to be hit on along with some groping. When the boss came in and locked the door; it was a sign that I was going to be on my knees or bent over my desk.
I remember waiting for Jack one night, one of our favorite places, and I was sitting in the bar. Now…I was dressed a little better than usual but; I’d taken the normal amount of time on makeup and hair, I’d done my nails and I was in a pair of 4” heels. The skirt I had on was below the knee but; about slit up to my ass on one side. It was one of the only times that he was late and; there were a few guys in there after working hours.
I didn’t buy a single fucking drink…not one. As I ordered, some guy down the bar covered it…okay…he’d had a few maybe. And ‘bar’ lighting is about the worst in the world! I was there for almost an hour, they talked to me, they entertained me and; I got hit on a few times.
Poise – grace – attitude. (Mom) “Tilt your head just a little when he’s talking to you, head down a touch then peek up at him, cross your legs like a lady and pull the skirt down nice, sit up straight and arch your back just a little, try to keep your hands in your lap” and other gems for my sister.
They knew I was waiting for my ‘boyfriend’; I’d told them that. It didn’t matter; I had offers of dinner, a ride home, Disneyland, the nearest motel and, things other than a cruise, most nice and dirty.
When Jack arrived, he walked right to me and, I gave him a nice big kiss before introducing him. What counted was (other than my over-inflated ego then) what ‘I’ did; it was most of what I’d learned and it’s all simple body language.
I very nicely turned so that I was mostly facing him then; wrapped both of my arms around his closest one. He instantly had 80 or 85% of my attention, just like that. We still talked with them but I was Jacks’, my body language told them that. He almost choked as he helped me down off of the bar stool. As we walked away, I turned to them and said, “Excuse us guys, I’m gonna get this stud to feed me then fuck me…see ya later and thanks for the drinks.” Then; put on my best wiggle, they deserved at least that much. Yes, there were times that I embarrassed that poor man to death; he wasn’t a prude but, Bobbie could be a tad crude at times…it’s all in fun anyway.
There are some other humorous stories like that.
Being in a bar and, have a guy who’s a department head at work, not only hit on you but take you home. I did make a point of telling him what I was; it didn’t matter to him. At one point, in the bar, he did give me a pretty good groping so he knew what he was getting. He passed out on me; once we got to his apartment and, was given a pair of autographed panties with my phone number on them. I saw him almost every day at work and it took him about a month to call me. He was going through a divorce and horny as hell – I don’t know how a woman could let that 10 inch cock get away. And that was on a white guy!
At work…
When I met Jack I was working as an independent bank courier; for one of the bigger banks in Pittsburgh. Everyone took me as I was and were friendly to me; the female couriers and the girls in receiving for us. Most of the male couriers avoided me; especially after the ‘kissing incident’ with one of them. Everyone else thought it was a hoot.
One night the girls and I were saying good-bye and passing out hugs and kisses. One of the guys piped up and said, “Hey, where’s mine?” He was holding his arms out so I walked over and planted a big wet one on him. There were a few seconds of shock then, he recoiled. Hey, he wanted a kiss!
Jack called the dispatcher one night to leave a message that I should call him. It was company policy that he didn’t call or page me when I was working. I called him back while in her office. We talked for a few minutes then he said, “See you soon, I love you.”…without thinking I said, “Love you too honey.” and hung up.
“Wasn’t that a ‘guy’ you were just talking to? You told him you love him?”
“My boyfriend, he’ll be a little late tonight.”
“Your boyfriend…a real boyfriend…I mean you date and, you know…?”
“Yes dear, all of that; especially the ‘you know’ thing. We have a good relationship and he’s damned good in bed.” I let that lie for a minute then said, “Jack’s straight as an arrow hon; I’m the one on my back.”
Most people don’t think (maybe) that ‘we’ have an abnormal but normal life. All that most of them saw was a sissy fag in women’s clothes. Of course I was teased, word of this spread like a wildfire.
She just looked at me before smiling. I guess they didn’t figure on me having a boyfriend or a lover? Surprise!
And, my dear Jack wasn’t gay or bi, as some had speculated. I explained that he was all man…he just wanted more of a ‘woman’.
The thing is that I wasn’t a flouncing queen at work. I dressed and acted just like most of the other girls there. My hair was longer but kept in a pony tail or a bun; I wore a company shirt (mine was the one for the women and buttoned down the front). I always wore a bra, tasteful slacks – a little tight in the butt – and either panties or a brief panty girdle with ankle socks and nice shoes. My nails were usually neat and well kept and, yes, I did wear tasteful nail polish. In nice weather I wore shorts. No one seemed to mind that they were a little shorter and, damned tight across my ass. There was no ‘bulge’ between my legs because of the girdles or a gaff I sometimes wore and; I have a very small package anyway. I have an overbite. No Adams Apple, hips that are a little wider and shoulders that aren’t too wide for a ‘girl’. With very little facial or body hair; all I needed was a little foundation and some toned-down lipstick to make things work. And, since I was 14 or 15, I’ve always had pretty nice legs to show off; they look especially nice in heels and stockings.
My favorite branch in Corry, Pa. …
(I was actually involved in a robbery there once – walked in on it)
Like most country branch banks, most of the employees were women. Corry was all women, right up to the manager. I did my pick-up as they were closing or just after; most of the time they were busy with work so I’d grab my pouches; say a quick ‘hi and bye’ and be gone. Everyone there was very nice and friendly with me and, for quite a while, I don’t think that they even noticed ‘what’ I was. They were always preoccupied with work.
I arrived a little early one day and they were still open. The one teller made a comment about the time and I just said that I was running early, I could wait as long as it took. She worked and we talked just a little more. She did look at me a few times; this was the most time I’d ever been in the bank. Her looks became more appraising in nature as she sniffed the air…yep Channel #5. It’s what I always wore, she’d just realized that. She looked me over a little more and it suddenly became clear that something was wrong with the picture she was getting. I was wearing a new girdle that day, a nicer one that really accented my ass in those slacks. We went back and forth on the conversation until, she asked me to step back from the counter. I did then turned around. I gave her a profile, while pushing my little boobs out then, gave her a good look at my ass.
“OH my God…you are!”
She’d seen the outline of the girdle, the zipper in the back of my slacks and the faint outline of my bra. A few of the other girls were now watching; they smiled, they laughed and some giggled. Most of this crew was over the age of thirty and some were fifty plus. There was a feeling that something changed that day…for the better. I started to notice that, on other days, the atmosphere was more friendly, more relaxed and comfortable than before. I wasn’t just ‘the courier’ anymore; I was suddenly Bobbie. It made me feel pretty good.
Like the others I worked with and interacted with; we now had something in common. That was sweet.
I didn’t end my run until (most days) seven pm. It was my birthday and Jack wanted to pick me up at work and take me to a little place in Pittsburgh (right across the river) for drinks and dinner. Since I didn’t have time to go home and change; I hung a dress in the truck. It was just a slip-over in a nice flower pattern that had a belt. Shoes…I took shoes too. A pair of nice navy pumps with an ankle strap and 4” heels.
My plan was to change at the main branch, walk outside and Jack would be waiting for me. I made sure I had a decent pair of nude stay-ups and panties – I WAS ditching the girdle for comfort! I had a little makeup along.
I changed in the one bathroom, fixed everything then started to walk outside; right through the main work area.
Everyone there was in jeans, old slacks, old shirts and smocks…a few company jumpers.
As I strutted along, saying good-night to everyone I was met with stares – totally blank stares. Until…someone said, “Bobbie?” that got everyone’s attention right now. This included one female courier who was just coming through the door. Ok; they’d never seen me with my hair down, a dress and heels plus, some quick and dirty makeup. The attention was nice (I wish I had the pictures a few of them took) it made me feel pretty good all over. I did a little flouncy runway thing then left. Max, the one outside guard, was totally taken by surprise. I said my good-night to him and he undressed me, with his eyes, as I walked by. That’s always nice; to feel those eyes in places where their hands wanted to be. I turned and blew him a kiss before walking to meet Jack.
My boss had watched almost everything on the CCD cameras. I was asked not to do that ‘too’ often, “We don’t need multiple heart attacks here.” Then he chuckled. Dennis was about thirty-five, black and married; not bad looking either. I promised him that I wouldn’t; unless there was a special occasion…like Halloween?
Like a few other holidays; the banks decorated and dressed for the occasion. I checked with him early and he agreed that I could work, that day, in some kind of a costume. I just couldn’t wear a mask.
What he didn’t expect was a Parisian Whore; sort of subdued but, with fishnets, a short red leather skirt, padded bra and ‘slut’ heels. That day was memorable; to say the least. When I walked into a branch, any of my branches, you could almost hear necks snap! It was fun but my feet were killing me by the time I left Erie and, driving in those hell-heels wasn’t much fun at all. At least everyone heard me coming. The couriers who hadn’t seen me in the morning; got a real eyeful, at the unloading dock that night. A picture of me appeared on the bulletin board a few days later with the inscription, “For a good time call Bobbie” and a phony phone number. All in fun. I never did find out who did the picture but I had my suspicions.
Maybe I underestimated Dennis and he wanted to bang me after all?
Of course I had to wear that costume for a party Jack and I went to that weekend.
I cut something like three inches off of the skirt and switched to all black lingerie; complete with a garter belt and new fishnets (they snag on everything!). Nope, the girdle was out of the question for that one.
There was another party we went to that year; I was a little tamer for that one. It was mostly friends of Jacks’ and I wanted to make a little bit of an impression. It would also be the first time we’d be seen together by them. It was nice then turned a little ugly at a point.
My dress was very, very tame for that one (and I could wear a little mask). Since it was costume or casual, I went ‘nice casual’. Short white chemise over a white bra (no padding this time, just me) a long-sleeved blouse, with the sleeves tastefully rolled up a little, tails tied in the front. An ankle length skirt (black) with a long slit up the side; good black stockings, black garter belt and cream white fancy, ‘high cut’ panties. My hair had been done a lot different than usual and…I thought it looked very good; for what Jack had paid for it. I wore it down. I did wear the same gawd-awful, nosebleed pumps. My guy had spent some money on decent jewelry for me and I wore what I could. Part of it was a matching set of earrings and a beautiful gold necklace. He loved buying me no end of sporty things to wear.
Anyway…
A few hours into the party I’d been introduced all around and the talk was buzzing like hell. I was being eyeballed by almost everyone. At one point I went to use the toilet and wound up in a conversation with some women in the kitchen. What impressed them the most was the heels…the fact that I could walk in them without falling on my ass and…how the hell could I stand being in them so long? Also the fact that my stride seemed so natural.
Remember Carnegie Hall?
Later back on the patio, deserted by Jack again, I sat alone on a chair (just as I was ‘taught’ to by default) sipping my drink and behaving myself. Legs demurely crossed as a lady should – even though my little cock was dead and my balls were crushed – waiting for him to return from his current a*****ion.
About fifteen feet away there was a very refined woman sitting alone. She was obviously drunk and getting drunker by the minute; she was also staring a hole through me! She mostly stared, either straight faced or scowling a little, and that was it. When I moved, changed position or re-crossed my legs, she was like a vulture. Jack appeared across the patio and called to me to join him, I stood up, drink in one hand and started to walk past the woman.
She never moved, never blinked, never looked in my direction…until I was right next to her. In a flash she grabbed the hem of the skirt and yanked hard; that was the same side where the slit was (almost up to my ass). She pulled away and up; I started to turn away but she had yanked it up pretty far. My one heel caught a place between two stones; I turned a little more (by then tugging on the skirt and sending the drink in her direction). She’d managed to rip the slit up more and, in the process, exposed just about everything from my waist down. Down…I went down hard as hell! Just to make sure everyone got a good show; I landed on my back, feet in the air and now, really giving everyone an eyeful of my lingerie!
Realizing what she’d done; she disappeared in a flash. A few people dove to help me and, Jack showed up. I had safety pins and the hostess had some super glue for the one broken heel. After a few minutes in the kitchen; I was ready to go for round two. The woman was an aunt of someone there; she was drunk as a lord. Whatever she was looking for, under the skirt, was up for speculation. We figured it out later; she wasn’t sure about my sex and wanted to check it out!
Shit, all she had to do was ask!
As things calmed down and; I now had Jack guarding me against any further mayhem, we had a little time to talk about the evening and the people. There had been a lot of talk about ‘us’ and ‘me’; most of it not so bad. For the rest of the evening we floated and were grabbed for talk. I was surprised that most (maybe 51%) approved of me – approved of us – as a couple. Most of the guests knew WHAT I was and accepted it. Jack was over the age of consent and had been living alone for almost ten years at that point. They were watching how I acted around him; remember mom? That’s how I was acting; demure, ladylike and a little clutching, when I could get next to him. We were officially approved. ‘I’ was included in the conversations. They asked about my job and I told them. Jack corrected me after the second time, “Bobbie and I have been talking about that. I want ‘her’ to quit so that we can travel a little more and have fun.”
This was the guy who wanted me just the way I was; the way he’d found me (well, maybe not in a sleazy ABS) he’d even talked me out of a sex change operation but; we were going to Thailand anyway.
At this point he’d already told me that he loved me. He’d asked me to marry him or, at least at least become his ‘partner’ in crime. I was happy and content at that point. I’d already told myself that I’d say ‘yes’ if he asked me again. He waited too long; I waited too long and the chance was gone within a few more years.
Jack had retired at fifty-five. I saw his bank account(s) statement(s) once. On his retirement and pension, the equity in the house; a trip to say, the moon, wasn’t out of the question. With the stocks and bonds, we could even get back. My honey had…in one account…four CD’s worth over $500,000…each…yeah…each. I was making about $45,000 a year, gross. He had that much equity in the one bathroom of his house!
He also had k**s that wanted everything; down to the lint under the carpets. I hope they enjoyed all of the ‘home videos’ and toys they found in his bedroom closet.
When the end came they had blind-sided us very well. With a smart but crooked attorney; they had him committed, they used ‘me’ as the reason for his ‘imbalanced behavior’.
Ta-Dum.
Becky
- 17.05.2022
- 20
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