Barbaras Geschichte
- 1 year ago
- 7
- 0
Barbara's Makeover free porn video
BARBARA'S MAKEOVER
by Barbara
I sat in the car absolutely terrified. I had parked
alongside the road only a few blocks from my destination and was
afraid to go any further. I kept asking myself, "Why was I doing
this?"
My wife and children had left earlier that Friday to
visit her parents for a week. I had stayed at home because of my
work schedule. At least that was the reason I gave everyone. My
real reason was that her absence gave me an opportunity to engage
in my secret passion without the interference of my family. I liked
to crossdress. My wife knew of this passion and probably knew the
real reason why I stayed behind. She was a good sport.
Several weeks earlier, I had located a makeover studio in
town using the internet. I e-mailed them and made an appointment
for 6:00 p.m. on the Friday my family left. I had asked for the
full treatment, a makeover and dinner. MaryAnn asked for my
measurements, eye color and skin tone. She said everything would be
ready when I arrived.
I had left work a little early and was on my way there.
It was now 5:55, and I had stopped along the road because I was
rapidly losing my courage. My heart was pounding, and my head felt
like a bowl of mush. I couldn't think at all. I was thinking I must
be crazy to do this.
I calmed myself down, and my hands began to move almost
by themselves. My passion and not my mind was controlling my
actions. I started the car, put it in gear and drove the few
remaining blocks to the studio. I parked in the back lot as
instructed, walked to the door and knocked. My body moved almost
automatically and against my will.
A 40ish woman answered the door. "Hi. I had an
appointment with MaryAnn.," I stammered.
"I'm MaryAnn. You must be Barbara. I'm glad you're here.
Please come in. A lot of the girls never show up for their
appointments, you know."
I entered a small waiting room with a desk and chairs,
nothing fancy. MaryAnn quickly put me at ease with a little small
talk. We settled the financial affairs, and she enquired whether I
wanted to shave my legs. "Pantyhose looked best on shaved legs,"
she stated. I informed her that my wife would not let me shave my
legs or arms. MaryAnn could handle that, but she did say she would
have to trim the hair on my hands if I wanted to complete the
illusion.
She led me to a small shower. "There is a non-fogging
mirror in the shower. You can get a close shave in there. Take your
time and do a good job." She handed me a razor and a can of
shaving cream as I went into the shower room. "When you're
finished, put these on, and we'll get started on the makeover." I
looked down as she handed me a pair of pink lace panties, a pair of
Danskin to cover my hairy legs and a pair of taupe pantyhose. There
was also a woman's bathrobe.
I quickly disrobed and stepped into the shower. The warm
water cascaded over my head, softening the 5 o'clock shadow on my
face. I applied the shaving cream and used the razor to good
effect. I could hardly feel anything on my face when I finished.
I stepped out of the shower and slipped the pink panties
up my legs. An erection was inevitable, and it stuck out
prodigiously. I put on the Danskin and the pantyhose. No hair was
visible under the pantyhose. I slipped on the bathrobe and walked
into the salon.
"Have a seat, Barbara. Let's see how you did." MaryAnn
directed me to one of her large chairs, and I made myself
comfortable. "Ah, good. A close shave. We'll be a little while now,
so just relax. You need to calm down so that we can make you
smooth in the tummy too." She had obviously noticed the bulge under
the bathrobe.
"I'll start with your hands," she announced, placing a
small board under my left hand. Using a small pair of scissors, she
clipped away much of the hair on my hands. As she finished, she
informed me, "I left enough so that the guys at the office
shouldn't notice." She then applied a long elegant fingernail over
each of my natural fingernails and applied an exquisite shade of
pink on the nails. I was bursting with anticipation. "Just leave
your hands on the arms of the chair while the polish dries, and
I'll get started on your face."
MaryAnn described each step. "This is 'clown white.'
It'll cover any nasty shadow." A layer of pancake makeup came next
followed by liquid makeup which MaryAnn rubbed in very deeply. A
quick application of face powder set the liquid makeup. She
described the "summer" color eyeshadow, the black mascara and the
blond eyebrow enhancer. She plucked a few hairs from each eyebrow
to give the brows a more arched look but not so many that someone
would ask any questions when I went back to my male persona.
"Things are coming along nicely, Barbara. You'll like it when we're
finished." She dabbed a little rouge on each cheekbone and applied
a conservative shade of red lipstick. I was starting to feel good.
The final piece was a dab of perfume around my neck and on each
forearm. "Chanel No.5"
"Now it's time to get dressed." MaryAnn led me to a small
dressing room where she had laid out a pink bra to match my
panties, a full slip, a pink blouse (the blouse had to match the
lingerie), a stylish blue skirted suit and a pair of 2 inch black
pumps. "Come back out to the salon when your dressed, and I'll
finish up. Oh, yeah, and you may want to lay your maleness flat
along the crotch of the panties. You've calmed down quite a bit.
The Danskin should hold you in to produce a flat front"
After she shut the door, I pulled down the pantyhose,
Danskin and panties and did as instructed. It was then that I first
noticed that long fingernails create a significant problem to
maneuvering your fingers. I would have to be very careful with
them. When I pulled everything up, the Danskin held me in as
MaryAnn had promised. With a properly designed skirt, there would
be no bulge at all.
As I had at home many times before, I picked up the bra
and slid it over my shoulders. My long fingernails got in the way
again as I fumbled with the hook. "I'll have to relearn how to work
with my hands if I use these things often," I thought. As I clasped
the bra, I relished the feel of the strap across my back and the
slight pull of the cups against my chest. I was feeling even better
as I slipped a breast form into each cup. The slip fell
effortlessly over my head and down my torso. I was encased by
satin, and I loved it.
My fingernails also proved troublesome as I buttoned the
blouse. It occurred to me that this would be a long training
exercise. I slid the skirt up my legs, buttoned it in the back and
pulled up the zipper. I was learning to work with my nails instead
of against them. I threaded a large black belt through the belt
loops on the skirt being careful to start the belt on the right
side instead of the usual (for me) left side. I sucked in my gut
just like in the army and pulled the belt snug. When I released my
stomach muscles, the belt accentuated my hips and gave me a waist.
I slipped on the pumps using a shoehorn that was laying close by
and stood up. I had worn heels at home before and was accustomed to
their feel. I pulled up the hem of the skirt so that I could pull
down the slip and the tail of the blouse. I wanted to look sharp.
I grabbed the jacket and went back into the salon.
I had brought a ladies watch and some jewelry with me. I
put on the watch, a string of pearls I had picked up at the local
department store for $10 and a bracelet. MaryAnn had me sit in her
chair again and helped me put on a pair of dangling but
conservative earrings. She then brought out a gorgeous blonde wig
with shoulder length hair. I could hardly restrain my excitement.
She fitted the wig over my head and, finally, turned me towards the
mirror. I had not expected a fashion model, but the person staring
back at me was an attractive, almost middle-aged woman who
obviously took a great deal of pride in her appearance. I was
ecstatic. MaryAnn had done a wonderful job, and I told her so. We
laughed and hugged like two old girlfriends.
MaryAnn handed me a purse and suggested that I put a few
of my essential i.d. cards in it and some cash just in case. She
also gave me the lipstick and face powder. Because no purse is
complete without a package of Kleenex, MaryAnn added that final
item. I was ready for dinner.
It was then that I noticed that MaryAnn wasn't dressed
for an evening at a nice restaurant. Perplexed, I asked why. We
went back into the waiting room that I had first entered. A man of
my age was sitting there reading a newspaper dressed in a business
suit. "It would be too conspicuous for me to go with you. Michael
will be your escort." I was dumbfounded. I was a crossdresser not
a queer. A date with a man was revolting. MaryAnn noticed my shock
and began to explain. "If you go with another crossdresser, you
double your chances of being read. If I go with you, people will
notice some of the small differences between you and me that can't
be hidden. But if you go with Michael, everyone will assume that
you are his female companion. It's natural for a man and a woman to
be together. It's the best way of avoiding any unpleasant
experiences."
I was still in shock. I wanted to say "no", but I had
prepared myself for an evening as a woman. I wanted to go out in
public and be seen as a woman. MaryAnn made perfect sense. My
passion again overcame my common sense, and I said, "OK."
"Barbara, this is Michael. Michael, meet Barbara." We
shook hands. Michael held mine ever so gently just the way I would
another woman's hand.
"Are you ready?" Michael enquired.
"Yes. Let's go." I donned the jacket for the suit and
headed for the door. Michael moved quickly and held the door for
me. Absentmindedly, I walked through the doorway and headed for my
car. It was the first time I had ever been outside dressed as a
woman, and my head was turning to mush again as my heart pounded in
my chest. I wasn't thinking, just reacting.
"Wait up, Barbara. We're taking my car." I stopped and
turned. Michael closed the door to the studio and walked over to
me. He offered me his arm and said, "The blue Mercury over here."
I took his arm. I was getting into my role as the "girl." Before,
I had always been the man.
The first thing I noticed was the "clip, clip, clip" of
my heels on the pavement as I walked. I had heard that sound a
million times before, but this time it was coming from my heels.
After a few steps, I also realized my stride was too long. I was
kicking the slip violently with each step. I shortened my stride
and tried to quicken my pace to keep up with Michael.
Michael held the car door for me as I got in. It was a
new task entering a car wearing heels and carrying a purse, but
Michael was there to support me. I swung my legs in and Michael
shut the door, but not before I noticed him stealing a glance of my
legs as my skirt shot unexpectedly upward when I sat down. I
quickly smoothed out the skirt and pulled it back over my knees
with my free left hand. Now I know why girls take a little extra
time entering a vehicle.
Michael told me he had made reservations at a nice
restaurant near the riverwalk. It was dimly lit and had a
reputation for being a place where a man could take someone who was
not his wife to dinner. No one asked any questions, and everyone
tried not to notice who was with whom.
We arrived at the restaurant and Michael held the door
for me as I got out of the car. Darkness had fallen which relieved
some of my anxiety. Another couple was approaching their car and
walked right past us. I waited for the stares and the laughs from
the man, but nothing came. They just kept talking as they went by.
They had accepted me as a woman.
Michael gave the maitre d' a large tip, and we were
seated at a secluded table. As the maitre d' led the way, Michael
placed his hand in the small of my back motioning me to walk before
him. "What a gentleman," I thought. The waiter brought out two
menus, and Michael ordered a glass of wine for each of us. Again,
no stares from the waiter. I let Michael order for both of us. I
had not attempted to feminize my voice, and I knew it would reveal
my little secret. I talked softly to Michael before the waiter came
and Michael talked to the waiter.
Dinner was uneventful. I had a scrumptious Cajun shrimp
dish that was out of this world. The thing that was most noticeable
to me was the lipstick stain on my glass. The stain that my lips
had put there. Michael kept commenting on how attractive I was. I
enjoyed the attention.
As I finished dinner, my bladder notified me that I had
some important business to attend to. "Michael, we need to hurry up
and leave. I have to get back to MaryAnn's studio so I can use the
restroom."
Michael looked at me and responded, "There's a ladies
room here. You can use that. I'm enjoying my dinner and prefer not
to hurry."
"I can't do that!!," I whispered emphatically.
"Barbara, just keep on eye on the door to the ladies
room. When everyone who has gone in comes out, you can have it to
yourself. Most women are in the restroom for about two minutes, so
just keep track. I have the keys to the car, and I want to finish
my dinner leisurely."
Michael wouldn't leave, and my bladder wouldn't wait. I
watched the door. A woman came out and another entered. About two
minutes later, the second woman came out of the restroom. My
bladder was pushing hard, and I decided to make my move. As I stood
up, Michael reminded me, "Be sure to take your purse. A woman
always takes her purse. You may want to freshen up your lipstick."
I pushed open the door of the ladies room and noticed
that both stalls were empty. I quickly entered one of the stalls
and shut the door. I was in luck so far. I hung my purse on the
back of the door, pulled up my skirt and pulled down the pantyhose,
Danskin and panties. If someone walked in, they would be horrified
to see a woman relieving herself standing up, so I sat down and
prayed that no one else would come in. My prayer was answered with
a "no." I heard the door open, and a woman entered the other stall.
I heard her pull down her panties and sit on the stool.
I had finished my business and thought that now was the
best time to leave before she had a chance to finish. I knew that
women wiped themselves, and that my new neighbor would be expecting
me to wipe myself; so I pulled off a few pieces of toilet tissue
and wiped the last drops of urine from the end of my penis. I
pulled up my panties and pantyhose, pulled down my slip and skirt,
smoothed it out, grabbed my purse and left the stall. I washed my
hands and pulled the lipstick out of the purse. As quickly as I
could, I applied a few strokes to my lips and then pursed them the
way I had seen my wife do. I left the restroom none to soon.
Another woman entered about a minute after I left.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said Michael. I could
have hit him. At the same time, I had to admit that the experience
had been exhilarating
We finished dinner and the waiter asked if we wanted
dessert. I declined. My stomach was already pushing hard against my
belt. I couldn't let the belt out this time. Michael declined also.
The waiter brought the check and took Michael's credit card. After
signing the receipt, Michael asked if I wanted to stroll along the
riverwalk and look at some of the shops. I not only needed to walk
off dinner, but I also wanted to be seen in public a little more.
The riverwalk was a safe place. There were several
couples enjoying the evening, strolling up and down the broad
walkway. Michael again gave me his arm and we stopped at each of
the ladies stores to admire the clothing. I especially liked a long
evening dress that I saw. The next time my wife left on a trip, I
would have to get invited to a party.
We passed several couples, some fairly closely. The
laughs and sneers that I had initially feared and expected never
came. I got a few glances from the men, and one even turned as he
walked in the opposite direction to get another look. I never knew
whether I had been read or whether he just wanted another look at
an attractive woman.
It was well after 10:00, and I told Michael I needed to
get home soon. I wanted to be home if my wife called. We walked
back to his car and drove to MaryAnn's studio. When we arrived, the
studio was closed and dark. "Don't worry. I have a key. You can
change back to your male clothes and go home," said Michael.
He opened the door to let me in, still the gentleman. As
he had several times during the evening, Michael placed his hand in
the small of my back to motion me to go first. This time, however,
his hand slid down past my waist to my derriere, and he gave me a
gentle yet firm squeeze. We both walked in with Michael's hand
still on my posterior. I turned to confront him, but he had
everything planned. As we faced each other, he placed his hands on
my waist and asked, "How much of a woman do you want to be?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had only asked
for a makeover and an evening at dinner. "Michael, I think I should
go now." Michael was larger and stronger than me, but I figured I
could hurt him enough in a fight to keep him away. I tried to push
myself away, but he held me tightly. I started to clench my fist to
strike the first blow.
Michael noticed my fists. "Don't think about fighting to
defend yourself, Barbara. We'll tear the place apart in a fight and
the police will come. Think about making a statement to them
dressed the way you are. Your wife and your employer will learn of
this little escapade, and the result will be no wife and no job.
Besides, I'm larger than you are and will probably hurt you
severely." Michael slid his two hands to my rear again, squeezing
each cheek. I didn't know what to do. I had gotten myself into this
mess and was desperately trying to think of a way to get out of it
without creating a commotion. Michael was right about one thing, I
didn't want to talk to the police or explain to my wife why I had
a chipped tooth or even a black eye.
Michael pulled me close to him. I could feel his
throbbing cock against my abdomen. He started to move his pelvic
area like a slow Elvis, rubbing his erection against me. I was
absolutely lost as to what to do. It was all so disgusting. I just
looked away.
Michael moved one hand to the center of my rear end in
order to keep me close and moved the other up to the level of my
bra strap. He moved his hand around and began to caress my breast
form. Of course, I couldn't feel it, but I did sense it. I did not
want it to happen. He moved his hand up to my chin, raised my head
and kissed me. He drew back a little. "Kiss back. It's more
enjoyable," he whispered. His hand went to the back of my head and
pulled my face towards him. He kissed again. Afraid that he might
get violent, I kissed back.
It was a long passionate kiss. Michael was plainly very
hot. We broke after a while, and I had an idea. "You know I can't
give you what you really want. Just let me go, and I'll be
grateful."
He moved his hand to my face and traced a circle around
my mouth with his finger. "Yes, you can. Just think positively." He
smiled. I knew exactly what he wanted, and it terrified me. It was
date rape, plain and simple, and I was the victim. I could never
report his conduct to the police and he knew it. And I couldn't
fight back without risking the police investigating the
disturbance. I began to resign myself to my predicament.
Michael released me slightly and backed himself against
the wall. He pulled me forward with his left hand still grabbing my
rear. He reached over with his right hand to grab my right hand and
placed it on his belt buckle. "Anytime, Barbara, anytime," came the
whisper in my ear. I was totally unnerved. I unbuckled the belt,
undid the button on his trousers and pulled the zipper down. His
trousers fell to his ankles revealing his briefs. He leaned against
the wall in anticipation of my next move.
Michael took each of my hands in his and placed them on
the elastic band of his briefs. "Now, please, now. I'm ready." I
pulled the band out and the briefs down exposing his rock hard
erection. I had never seen another man's erection before, and I was
thoroughly disgusted. Placing a hand on my head, he pushed down. I
knelt before him, and he pushed my face into his maleness. I knew
what I would do next. My wife had done to me it many times before.
I took his cock in my hand and pulled it gently away from his body.
I opened my mouth as wide as I could being careful to cover my
teeth. I closed my eyes and went down on him.
The head of his cock was in my mouth. Michael inhaled
deeply and started to purr. "Use your tongue, Barbara," came the
low moan. I used my tongue to caress the head and he moaned even
more deeply, "Now deeper, please, deeper." I eased more of his
erection into my mouth. I was starting to gag and felt totally
abused. At least the lipstick I was wearing served as a lubricant
to let his member slide over my lips. Just as I had taken as much
as I thought I could, Michael pushed forward sending his cock all
the way to the back of my mouth and partially down my throat. He
began to pump leisurely and shallowly, placing his hands on my head
to maneuver it into the most pleasurable position for him. My lips
slid up and down the lower portion of his shaft.
He pumped for an eternity, moaning the entire time. He
was enjoying every second. I almost began to think as a girlfriend,
hoping he was appreciating what I was doing for him. He finally
came, and I almost vomited. I couldn't believe this was happening
to me. I could sense every muscle in his body tense with the
orgasm. In a soft voice, he said, "Don't spill anything. I don't
like messes." He could hardly speak as he reached a climax. I kept
my lips tightly around him.
Between his cock, my saliva and his cum, my mouth was
getting very full. Involuntarily, I swallowed, and everything went
down my throat. He sighed with delight. "Do that again. Please, do
that again." Because he still had his hands on my head, I obeyed,
and he sighed again. "Hold me for a while longer in your mouth. It
feels so good." I did and the big ugly thing finally went flaccid.
Michael reached for a handful of tissues on MaryAnn's
desk. He handed them to me and reminded me not to spill anything as
he withdrew. I placed some of the tissues under my mouth, and he
pulled himself out. "Clean me up, Barbara. Let's not leave any
mess." I wiped his organ clean with the remaining tissues. There
was lipstick, my lipstick, all over the base of his cock. Michael
pulled his briefs and trousers back up.
"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Barbara. I enjoyed
myself immensely. I assume you will want to change and go home
now." I gathered up my male clothes, my keys and my purse and
headed for the door. I wanted to leave as quickly as I could. I did
not want to waste any time changing clothes. Michael did not open
the door for me this time. I simply listened to the lonely "clip,
clip, clip" of my heels as I crossed the parking lot to my car.
When I arrived home, I immediately stripped and used some
of my wife's cream to remove MaryAnn's handiwork. I took a hot
shower and must have brushed my teeth a dozen times. No matter how
many times I brushed and gargled, I couldn't get the taste of his
cum and the feel of his cock out of my mouth.
I began to think about the night's activities. I had
wanted to be seen as a woman and to be treated as a woman. MaryAnn
had done a wonderful job on the makeover, and until we returned to
the studio, I had fulfilled some of my deepest feminine desires. No
one had laughed or snickered. I even thought I received a glance or
two from some of the men we passed. Michael had been a pleasure up
until the return.
As I thought about what happened later, I realized that
Michael had simply continued to treat me like a woman. He had
forced me to endure the one feminine experience that every woman
dreads. I was raped. Michael had used his superior size and
strength and my vulnerability to get exactly what he wanted, sexual
satisfaction. It was rape in every sense of the word except for the
fact that I had no vagina to penetrate. I now had the same deep,
dark secret that many women had that I could never reveal to my
spouse or to anyone else. It was a secret between my attacker and
me.
I did not sleep at all that night. When the sun rose, I
finally got out of bed and made myself some breakfast. My
adventures had raced through my mind all night. I wanted to talk to
someone but knew I couldn't. I was amazed that my crossdressing
passion still raged within me after my experiences. At 10 o'clock
when MaryAnn's studio opened, I called. "MaryAnn, this is Barbara.
May I have another appointment for this evening? ... Michael, yes
Michael will be fine."
Barbara Pipf [email protected]
Wynona
- 04.10.2021
- 11
- 0
