Another Convert free porn video

Another Convert by Coral Marsh As the car which had been tailgating him for the past few minutes sped by, Mark wondered seriously about how some drivers ever got their licenses - especially Mini drivers - driving that fast in such atrocious weather conditions in the dark was suicidal. As it was, his own caution made it unlikely he would make it to the coach on time, he thought, as he drove through the pouring rain. If this atrocious weather continued, a further 20 minutes at least would be added to the journey time, meaning he would miss the 7.30 p.m. deadline by a good 5 minutes. However, perhaps they would wait, so it was still worth continuing, for the prospect of the whole weekend in that company was well worth the effort. He peered ahead, noting the water crossing the road, and slowed to a crawl, keeping the revs high to reduce the risks of cutting out as water splashed onto the ignition circuit. He noted dryly that the Mini which had passed him appeared to have had just that happen. Even though it maddened him, he knew he would have to stop and offer a hand, for it was normally a very quiet road and the driver could be stuck for hours, if not all night. There goes the planned weekend, he cursed inwardly. Making sure he was on the crown of the road, where the flooding was only about 2" deep, he stopped alongside the Mini, and switched on his hazard flashers, Selecting the interior light also he wound down the passenger window, yelling "are you OK?". He could make out long hair and earrings on the driver of the Mini, and a response came through the window - "Yes", it said, "but I could do with some help, the engine stopped". He sighed - just his luck - a helpless female, wound the widow up again, and leaving the engine running, got out into the pouring rain, grabbing a torch as he did so, stepping into the puddle which covered his shoes,. A brief inspection under the bonnet of the Mini confirmed the distributor to be soaking wet, and there was no hope at all of drying it out in that weather. He advised the driver that it would have to wait until the rain had stopped, and it would probably be daylight before it could be fixed. However, they agreed it would clearly become a danger to other traffic when its lights faded as the battery went flat, so as the water in front of the Mini was only about 6" deep, they decided it was best to tow it onto the hard verge. Going back to his own car, he opened the boot, moved his weekend case, took out his emergency tow rope, then manoeuvred his car in front of the Mini. Getting out again he knelt down in the water, cursing under his breath as it soaked his trousers. He fixed the tow and in a few minutes had the Mini pulled safely out of harms way. "I guess you'll also want a lift to civilisation" he asked the woman, who to this point had typically sat in the dry interior of the Mini, "Come on" he encouraged, as he undid the tow rope and returned it to his own car. She ran quickly over to the passenger side and slid in, as he himself squelched into the drivers seat, well aware that his weekend trip away was now well and truly a pipe dream. " Thanks" she said, breathlessly, "The engine just stopped when I hit the water. I'm Hazel, by the way. I really am grateful to you, I just don't know what I would have done " She looked across at him and he saw for the first time how attractive she was, long dark brown hair held back with ribbon, dangling earrings framing an appealing face, full sensual lips, her make-up and hair almost untouched by the rain. Her open jacket had only collected a few spots of rain, one large drop he noted having splattered onto her blouse causing her bra and its out- thrust breasts to stick to it underneath. He could clearly see the lace of the cup, a sight he enjoyed, before he became conscious he was staring at that entrancing sight too long for politeness. He quickly finished his overview, noting the long legs covered in light tan stockings flowing from under the knee length tailored skirt, which matched the jacket. Obviously a business woman on her way home, he thought to himself, as he introduced himself. After he engaged first and drove on, the discussion revolved initially around where she had to get to, which turned out to be a cottage by itself, apparently just off the main road a few miles further on, so Mark, ever the good Samaritan, volunteered to take her there. On the drive he was tempted to tell her off about the way her driving had caused the problem, but she appeared to have a very light-hearted approach to life. Her sense of humour quickly got the better of him, and they were soon talking and laughing as though they had known each other for ages. Shortly they turned off the main road onto a track into a wooded area, and she directed him when and where to turn, as the track split into two or three, and when they got to the house, which was in total darkness, he was totally lost and confused, and doubted whether he could have got back to the main road in that weather. He awoke from his reverie by her soft voice. "My goodness", she exclaimed, " How thoughtless of me. You are soaking wet, and its all my fault. The very least I can do is offer you a good meal and the chance to dry out. You must come on in and dry off in front of my log fire". She wouldn't take no for an answer, which, given his confusion about where he was, the knowledge that his weekend plans were already in chaos, and the thought of a roaring log fire it was not difficult to accept her offer. Anyway, she was attractive, young, pleasant company and who knew what else she had to offer? In any event he had his weekend case with an exchange of clothes. So he accepted, and as she ran to the house and opened the door, he locked the car, grabbed the case from the boot and ran up the drive into the unlocked house. Hazel had made a dive for the fire and was already striking a match. She made a pretty picture as she knelt, she had removed her jacket, and he could see now her blouse was diaphanous. The material of her slip and her bra contrasted white against the darker shade of her skin as the blouse strained against her back. She watched as the fire, which had obviously already been laid, sprang into life. She stood up and he could then see she was probably as tall as he was, with her 3" high heels making her actually taller. He admired the way her hips flowed into her slender legs, as she absentmindedly smoothed her skirt over them, stroking away the fluff from the carpet which adhered to it. She turned and looked at him, and then her hand flew to her mouth in horror as she saw the sorry state he was in. Mark's shoes were running water onto the tiles of the hall, and the rest of his clothes stuck to his body. "You must get out of those wet clothes and have a shower before you catch your death" she cried, and opening a cupboard in the hallway, threw a large pink bath towel at him. He became conscious that the water from his clothes was in fact dripping profusely on the floor, so he quickly removed his shoes and socks, moving from the puddle they had made. His attempts to dry his feet were interrupted by her taking his hand and rushing him through a bedroom into a pink tiled bathroom, where she pointed him to the shower. "In there, Mark, and give your body a real chance to warm up!" He emerged from the shower about five minutes later, smelling very nicely from the shampoo he had found in the cubicle. He saw her razor, and knowing the benefit a fresh shave can give a man, even though he had hardly any beard, he gave himself a quick shave, using her perfumed soap to maximum advantage. Then, feeling like a new man, he opened his case and - horror on horror - found the contents soaking. He remembered then, too late, the leaking seal in the boot by the rear wheel arch which allowed muddy water to be thrown up into the boot. Obviously he had not fixed it properly, so now all he had now were wet clothes as wet as those he had taken off, which she had already removed. So, with only the now very damp towel wrapped around his naked body, he ventured out into the bedroom, and into the main part of the house. She was in the kitchen, and when she heard his footsteps, turned and smiled, commenting on how much better he looked. She laughed when he queried whether she had a clothes dryer. "No such luck" she exclaimed, "I don't normally have a need for one anyway. Why do you ask?". She then looked thoughtfully as he explained what had happened to his suitcase, which he had left in the bathroom, and together they inspected the damage. She looked him up and down, and came to a conclusion very rapidly. "You can't stay in that towel, and you can't put on any of these dirty and wet clothes so I'll have to get something out for you", she said, "wait in here a moment or two and I'll find something suitable until these have been washed and dried by the fire". She grabbed the case, his old clothes and went out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. It opened ajar again almost immediately, and an arm came through, with it he heard her say "Give me the wet towel so I can dry that also", so without thinking he passed it out, felling a little shivery in his nakedness, and the door closed again. Through it he then heard the sound of drawers opening, heard her muttering things like "this should do" and wardrobe doors opening and closing. A few mimutes later he heard her voice again. "I've laid out some things on the bed for you, just take your pick, and join me when you're decent". It was followed by the sound of the bedroom door closing, followed by the clacking of her high heels as she walked down the passageway. Mark moved out into the bedroom, and gasped when he saw what was laid out on the bed - various shapes and colours of obviously female underwear, and an assortment of blouses, skirts and belts. He was a little nonplussed for a moment, then became more aware of his surroundings. The bedroom he was in was clearly a woman's room, with pink floral curtains and matching bedspread, white chest of drawers matching the dressing table which was covered with all the feminine make-up and creams, and the wardrobe doors being full-length mirrors. The delicious scent of perfume and talc pervaded the air. There was no evidence whatsoever of any male presence, the sole item of masculinity being his wallet lying on the pillows, together with some loose change, which had been in the pockets of the trousers he had been wearing. This was now presumably being washed, so he could not reasonably have expected to see a range of his own or any other male clothing, especially as he recalled how in conversation in the car she had said she lived alone. Mark stood for a moment or two, undecided. Clearly his clothes would take some time to dry, he was hungry and the smell of cooking which had wafted in the air when he had gone down in his towel to ask for a drier had made him more conscious of his hunger. He knew he was miles from anywhere and to get his clothes back would require him to face this lady in his current defenceless self. He shrugged his shoulders, and decided to take the bit between his teeth. Maybe just a skirt for modesty, and after all, a blouse was really no more than a shirt!. He walked to the bed, and started examining the clothing. All of it was soft and feminine, with the underwear having a special light, silky feeling and delicacy to it. He struggled a little with the thought of what he was doing, but then finally accepted that he would have to wear one of the skirts laid out. His basic conditioning told him it was just as essential to wear something under a skirt as it was under normal male, and he then viewed the underwear she had laid out, selecting a pair of open leg French knickers, His original logic told him they did not look that much different from the maroon boxer shorts he had just removed, apart from the lace on the legs, and the legs being slightly flared. However, these were a pastel ivory, and were made of a lot lighter and softer material. He looked at the label and saw they were in the range Elle McPherson had designed - he had been one of the lucky few to attend the fashion parade at which they had been launched in Perth, and had greatly enjoyed the spectacle. As he slid them up his legs he was surprised and embarrassed to feel the blood start flowing to his loins, causing the start of an erection. He dropped the panties quickly, then realised that he would need to overcome the problem, as he clearly could not go naked under the skirt. Trying to put his mind onto other things he drew the knickers up to and over his maleness, and tried to ignore the now obvious 'tenting' effect. The skirt should hide that, he thought, reaching over and selecting the nearest of the 3 laid out, in a red cotton, full cut, and quickly slid the waistband up his legs, poking himself under the waistband and settling it around his waist. Looking down, there appeared to be no apparent evidence of his excitement, so he wriggled it around, did up the button and drew the zip closed. He turned to the mirror to double check and was surprised how feminine it made him look, and he found himself turning one way then the other, making it flare slightly. It was a little long on him, he decided, half way up his calf was not for him, so he turned to study the alternatives. One was a full cut flowing style in a pink satin , which, judging by the one he had on, would be just on the knee. The other was about 4" shorter, a mini, in a diaphanous black narrow pleated polyester, a built in underskirt and elastic waistband. . He unzipped the red skirt, and as it slipped to the floor, he took the mini and measured it against himself, watching himself in the mirror. "Needs an underskirt, even with the built in one", he mused, recognising as a male his shape would be in silhouette, and needed more discretion. He looked on the bed and saw there was a slip which matched the panties he was already wearing. He grabbed it and eased it over his head, sliding his arms under the delicate ribbon shoulder straps, and settled it over his shoulders. It drifted down his body, and he felt his excitement growing again. It was a little uncomfortable, and as he looked at himself in the mirror he realised it was back to front, with the lace panels normally covering the bust and bra lining up against his shoulder blades. Laughing to himself he drew it up over his shoulders, twisted it round, revelling in the soft and gentle way it fell down over his chest and waist, settling over his hips. He stepped into the waistband of the mini and drew it up, again tucking himself and the skirt of the slip under the elastic waist, returning to the mirror. This time the effect of the lace top of the slip combined with the swirl of the pleats created a really feminine appearance, and he started to imagine how the line would be improved if he had breasts. He could see, however, the skirt itself was far too short for him, creating an impression of tartiness, especially without pantyhose to give a clean leg line. Its shortness and lightness also emphasised the now very obvious 'tent pole' effect created by his excitement, and he reluctantly realised that it was not for him that night. This only left a pink satin one to try, and whilst he felt that pink was not really for him, he soon had it on, the waist button done up and the zip fully closed. He turned again to the mirror and caught his breath at the sensual picture it presented, the ivory lace cups of the slip covering his (fortunately, he thought) hairless chest, the shiny material drawing his eyes down to the skirt flowing out from the waist, giving the rounded female hipline. Even though he was still partly aroused, the fullness of the skirt hid it from view, and the delicate shade of pink denied that it was a problem anyway. "This has to be it", he told himself, and he returned to the bed to select a blouse. Again a choice of three had been placed on the coverlet, one with short sleeves, collar and pockets on the bustline; one also with short sleeves, but with no pockets, no collar, and buttoned through to the neck. The other had long sleeves and collar, and was a button-through style which could be done up to the neck or left open. All were of a similar silky polyester material and all were fine enough to allow any feminine underpinnings to be seen through the material, but in a decorous way. He selected the one with long sleeves, noting not only its lightness as he drew it over his shoulders but also that it was cut very fully under the arms thus not creating any conflict with his shoulder muscles. The sleeves, with their open cuffs, required no buttoning, and their fullness and length also suited his long arms. As he buttoned it, with some initial difficulty as it buttoned the 'wrong' way, he noted it had very light shoulder pads, which, when placed correctly, had the remarkable effect of reducing the masculine breadth of his shoulders and creating a feminine, albeit rather butch, look. As he studied himself in the mirror he was startled to hear Hazel shout "How's it going, Are you having any problems?". This brought him back to reality, and he blushed inwardly at how he had been reacting over the last few minutes. Better bluff it out, he thought, and convince her that its all a big joke as far as he was concerned, so he yelled back. "I'm OK, but I feel guilty and a little undressed without a bra and stockings!". "You will find a bra to fit in the top left hand drawer of the dresser, and a matching suspender belt in the next drawer down" came the instant answer, "and some new stockings in the top right hand drawer - leave the white one as I've got those for a special party tomorrow". Mark was stunned. What should he do now? He felt he had little choice really, for it was he who had after all asked the question, and he was determined to show that he was as good a sport as she was. But inwardly he also felt rather pleased and excited, now he was able to legitimately finish of his self feminisation, and he did wonder how he would look with a lacy bra and breasts. He went to the dresser and opened the top drawers. He was entranced by the collection of bras he saw, and the variety of stockings, which lay tucked away beside a delicious array or panties, briefs and knickers. He closed the drawers quickly and opened the one underneath, and was captivated by the sight of the suspenders it contained, neatly laid out alongside some silky pyjamas and nighties, He resisted the temptation to fondle those, reached in and picked up a suspender belt which appeared to match the knickers he was wearing. The long elastics had ribbon over the studs, and they hung from four silken lace edged diamond shapes stitched onto a 6" deep waistband. He then re-opened the drawer above and selected from the many packets of stockings it contained a light tan pair. He lifted his skirt and slip, attempting to secure the suspender belt around his waist, but the skirt kept sliding on the slippery nylon and kept getting in the way. Walking rapidly over to the bed he flipped up his skirt and underskirt, and lay down, and in this position was able to do clip the hooks and eyes together, twisting it around so the fastening was at the back. With trembling hands he ripped open the stocking packet, and felt the softness of the nylon as they floated over his hands. He had seen many girlfriends put them on, and had seen them refix the suspender studs which he himself had undone as he pursued his normal male pleasures with them, so was fairly confident he knew how to slide the nylon up his legs without laddering. He tried mentally to follow their actions as he put first slid on one then the other. As he separated them carefully he lay one down, opening the top of the other and gathering the silky softness from the top to the bottom. He carefully inserted his toes, made sure they were fully drawn into the nylon, and settled the reinforcing to spread evenly across the toes. He then gently persuaded and stretched the gossamer material up his legs, glorying in the feeling of the softness and smooth clean line they gave. He was grateful that the little body hair he had was blonde and inconspicuous, so it did not spoil the clean limbed effect He had difficulty at first doing up the suspender buttons, as the legs of the French knickers initially got in the way, then he realised the need to put the elastic under them rather than on top, and the job came easier. He crossed his legs, enjoying the unique sound of one nyloned leg drawing over another. He loved the feel of tightness they gave to his legs, and as he stood up and walked to the dresser again, he sensed his inner thighs brush against each other, he felt his skirt and slip brush against each other and his legs. He became aware of the very light rustle this created, and this enhanced the sensations he derived from the pull of suspenders in a way he had never previously imagined possible. By now he was totally enthralled by his experiences, and determined to really play the part well. So a bra to create (and hold) a curving bust was obviously another necessity, for without it his upper body line looked wrong, and the blouse looked empty. So a bra was required, and as Hazel had said a matching one to fit was in the dresser, he rummaged through the bras he saw there, enjoying the feel of the lacey cups. After he selected the bra he held his skirt up to make sure it was a match for his glamorous panties, suspenders and slip. On receiving confirmation, he undid and removed the blouse. Then he dropped the ribbon straps of his slip from his shoulders, put his arms through the straps of the bra, leant forward and attempted to do it up behind his back, just as he had seen many of his previous girlfriends do. It was impossible! - how did they do it? - possibly because he had no heavy breasts to fill the cups and anchor the bra. So he slipped the straps from his shoulders, turned the bra round, did up the hooks and eyes, twisted it round again so the join was in the centre of his back, hooked the straps back over his shoulders and adjusted it to a comfortable position. He was impressed, Hazel had been right - it actually fitted him, he thought.. He had no idea at the time that all the bras in that drawer would have fitted him, as he had little idea of how bras were sized anyway, but Hazel's bra size was obviously just right, if a little high on his chest. He looked in the mirror above the dresser, and it was clear he needed padding, so he carefully selected two pairs of similar pink panties from the drawer, again enjoying the soft silky feel and pastel colours of the various materials of all the contents of the drawer. He formed each into a ball and pushed one into each cup - not perfect, he admitted to himself, but better than none at all. He then noticed the adjustments on each strap, and taking his time he lengthened each until his bustline properly sat on his chest, the cup centre in line with his nipples. Curiously, these had hardened into little points, and again he welcomed the fact that his body was almost hairless. He pulled up the shoulder straps of the slip, then got confused again doing up the blouse, but finally did so, following by undoing the waist of the skirt and pulling the blouse hem well down.. It still didn't fit correctly, so he put his hand up his skirt and, finding the silky hem of the blouse, puled it down all around until he was satisfied. He returned to the full length wardrobe mirrors and admired himself, turning this way and that, showing off the femininity he saw there, lifting his skirt and admiring the look of the suspenders and stocking tops against his white thighs, revelling in the feel of the skirt, slip and stockings against his skin. Fine adjustment was still required, so again his hands slid under his skirt and tugged the blouse hem down again to give an even look around the waist, his hands lingering on the silk of the slip, feeling his slippery skin through his panties. He lifted his skirts high above the waist, turning and bending from the waist so the mirror reflected the smooth curve of his silken clad backside, framed by the long curving ivory elastics of his suspenders, loving the sensuality of the moment, being fully aware that he was now erect as he indulged in the sensation that the slippery material had on his glans. He was again awoken from his reverie by a voice asking "How's it going??will you be long?" "Just finished now?." he replied, "Just coming?." Nervous now, he dropped his skirts, made a final check in the mirror to see that his excitement was not too obvious, took a very deep breath (which gave him a thrill as he felt the tautness of his bra, making him take another,) stepped out into the hallway and walked to the combined kitchen/diner, to face his temptress?and torturer, he thought. As he stood in front of her, his hands crossed demurely, almost protectively across his lap, he felt at once ashamed but also somewhat pleasantly pleased to be undergoing her scrutiny. "My, don't you look nice," she remarked as she took in the feminine picture presented to her. "Pink suits you, and with the white blouse you look positively virginal - I've heard the expression 'clothes maketh the man' before, but in your case you look almost edible. Even without shoes and makeup, and hair obviously too severely cut, you make me feel quite dowdy! You're a natural!. Atta girl - sit down and talk to me whilst I carry on." He was confused by her remarks. After all, he was only dressed like this to enable his real clothes to dry, but he now almost wanted them to stay wet for ever. And what was she hinting at, talking about make-up, virginity and being natural? He sat down at the table, accepting her gently joking admonition for not sliding his hands down the back of his skirt as he sat down, "to seat your skirt properly" she said, and he crossed his legs, pointing his toes to give a curve to his calves, then heard her voice. "Tell you what, could you watch the potatoes, , please, Marcella, they'll be ready in about 10 minutes but I don't want them to boil over. In the meantime. You make me feel so dowdy, I've just got to go and freshen up - even if only to catch up with you!" With that, she dashed away to the bedroom from which he had just emerged. Mark wondered, had she really said Marcella, or Mark? Marcella was a nice name anyway, and if he had been a girl, then would that have been the name he (she?) would have chosen anyway? He sat on the kitchen stool, thinking about his host's slip of the tongue, and looked down at his legs. Self consciously he drew his knees together, then stretched first one the then other leg out to its full extent. Not bad, he thought, not bad at all, thank goodness I'm not dark and hairy like some guys, the hairs would ruin the effect. He sat there, his thoughts running wild, one hand resting on his lap gently stroking the soft layers of skirt, slip and panties over his skin, absentmindedly watching the pot with the potatoes simmer away. Ten minutes or so later she returned. She had removed the ribbon from her hair which now fell softly around her face, where she had enhanced her mascara and eye liner, making her eyes large pools of invitation, the red lips and softly made-up face totally complementing the illusion. She wore also the collarless diaphanous blouse that had been laid on the bed. She wore no slip, only the lace of her bra could be seen through the blouse material. Mark tried not to stare, but was sure he could also make out the darkness of aureoles around her nipples which now peaked the blouse suggestively. She had also exchanged her business skirt for the black pleated mini skirt Mark had tried on earlier, and it swayed sensuously against her hips as she walked, her strong thighs rippling. But she had clearly decided no slip was necessary, and was (was she?) unaware the silhouette of her body against the light was tantalisingly erotic. As she moved the light tan of the nylon covering coupled with black stiletto heels created an effect of legs going on forever, She was every man's ideal of a sensual woman. "I'm pleased you left me the mini" she said "but don't misunderstand - I would have been more than pleased if you had wanted to wear it, but it is one of my favourites, and perfect for relaxing. But in any event, you look really stunning yourself in that pink skirt, and I cannot fault your choice?perhaps a little eye shadow, blusher and lippy would really set it off??.no?" she quizzed, as she gauged my reaction, "not to worry, Marcella, - could you open the wine, you'll find it in the bar fridge". There, she had said it again - Marcella!, he pondered as he padded over to the fridge whilst she finished of the preparations for the meal, then sat down on the settee. He pulled out the bottle of Chardonnay , opened it and poured a glass each. As he took her glass over to her, she uncrossed her legs, and Marcella was sure he got a glimpse of stocking tops and white suspenders, but she demurely tugged her skirt hemline down and cut off the view. "For you" she said, then paused, then looking at him up and down again "its not quite right, you know, there is something missing, but we'll fix it after our meal" Mark had no idea what she was talking about, and said so, and she just laughed again. The meal was delicious, the company rewarding and humorous, and they talked about everything under the sun. Mark was totally relaxed, they finished the wine and opened another bottle. After nearly two hours had passed, Mark/Marcella had got into the habit of brushing her skirt under her as she sat, and yes, his host had admitted that she had deliberately called him Marcella. "Its far more natural with you in femimine undies, and so fully dressed like a lady in your pink skirt" she advised, and Marcella could not argue. He was conscious throughout the meal how her nipples continued to peak the blouse, but when he looked down to avoid the impression of staring he could not help but study her legs and the way her hemline seemed to keep creeping higher up her legs - yes, he was sure he could make out the dark band of stocking tops, and the suggestion of a suspender button on the top of her thigh. "It's still raining, and you've had too much to drink anyway, she told me, so you'll have to stay the night - we'll fix up your bed now - but first - please will you let me finish you off with the little feminine touches to see just how much of a beautiful girl you could really be.. pretty please?" she enticed "?.OK?" Mark/Marcella was confused by Hazel's comments, but agreed, just loving the feel of the silky slip, loving the tugs on his stockings, loving the tautness of the bra across her chest, wanting to extend the sensations as long as possible. And he also was intrigued what these little 'feminine touches' were and what effect would they have on his appearance and feelings. With that his host took Marcella's hand again and took her up the hallway, it ringing with the contrast of feminine clacking stilettos heels and Marcella's silent shuffle. Hazel turned into the second bedroom. This also was done out in pastel shades, with sweetheart nets on the windows framed by pale blue floral curtains, a matching coverlet with delicate ruffles, a soft rag doll sitting in the centre of the bed. Clearly another 'girls' room, also without any evidence on male presence at all - confirmation it was an all female household. Hazel went to the wardrobe and pulled out some white shiny sheets - Mark was intrigued and secretly pleased to see these were satin just like the ones in the main bedroom, and he could not help but pass comment. "Yes" was the reply, "I just love the feel of silk and satin against my skin, and the sensations you get when sliding around a satin clad bed in a silken nightie have to be experienced to be believed - perhaps I should get you a nightie also?" He blushed, protesting, but not too much - he actually rather fancied the idea, but she did not pursue the matter, and he could hardly bring it up again himself. Between them they removed the coverlet and made the bed, putting matching satin pillowcases on the feather pillows. As they were about to leave Marcella picked up the rag doll which had earlier sat on the bed, kissed it and tucked it in, saying "Goodnight" she said. "I'll join you later and you can sleep in my arms - won't that be nice?" Marcella was surprised to be rewarded by a peck on the cheek from the doll's owner. "What a sweet thing you are, Marcella, come on, sit down on the bed, I'm going to finish you off." Mark/Marcella sat down, again a little confused, and felt a hand brush his nyloned legs, but then he saw the box that had been pulled from under the bed. As it was opened he saw it contained many pairs of high heeled shoes, and realised Hazel was going to try for a pair for him. He wanted to almost squeal with delight and together they selected a pair of open evening shoes, with 3" heels, 4 delicate pink straps crossing the toes, and pink crossover straps rising from the sole and around the heel. As Hazel knelt placing one knee on the floor in front of Marcella to do up the straps, her black mini rode up the other. She was concentrating on her work, though, and appeared to be oblivious to the effect her long stockinged legs were having on her charge. As Hazel moved her hemline kept shifting upwards, and Marcella was startled and excited to see that he had been right in his earlier thoughts about Hazel wearing stockings not pantyhose. After but a few seconds of Hazel's efforts, there, in front of Marcella's eyes, he could see what appeared to him to be acres of white thigh and two white suspender straps disappearing under the elastic edges of a pair of white silky lacy briefs. There was also a delicious lacy top to the stockings which almost made Marcella jealous. The sight caused his maleness to react intensely, and in the seated position he had quickly place his hands on his lap to hold himself down to prevent 'tenting' his skirt. As Hazel finished doing up the straps, she looked up and caught where his eyes were looking, and he blushed crimson. Laughing, she said "I could tell you liked suspenders and stockings because you selected them for yourself instead of the pantyhose in the drawer. We girls need to no secrets from each other - I do prefer stockings and suspenders also, I find them not only cooler but a lot more sexy, don't you agree?what do you think of the combination?" With that she stood up and lifted the pleats at the front of the mini, revealing a glorious white silken vee of panties stretched over her 'mons veneris', which appeared to bulge in the centre and was rather larger than Mark was used to. She also wore matching suspenders emanating from under them to catch on and make little mountains at the tops of her stockings. As his eyes almost popped out of his head, she dropped the hem, camouflaging the sight that had turned Mark on, abruptly changing the subject. "Stand up, Marcella" she asked "Lets see what a difference that makes". He stood, patently aware that having been even more turned on by the sight of Hazels silky undies, his rigidity was now not being constrained in any way by the open legged French knickers he wore, and his excitement now clearly affected the fall of his pink satin skirt. He tried unsuccesfully to hide it with his hands. Hazel smiled, and took his hands away, and laughed deliciously as she noted the obvious degree of his excitement,and Marcella's skirt 'tented' even more as he stood in front of Hazel's gaze,. "At this stage I really didn't think of THAT effect, though, but I must admit, I'm not really surprised", and letting go of one of Marcella's hands, Hazel patted the 'tent' briefly. Marcella tried to ignore it, and tried to draw her attention to the new shoes he was now wearing, taking a pace forward. "A perfect fit" Marcella exclaimed. "Its almost as if you knew I was coming," she continued, as her instructor helped her for her first few steps. She started walking by herself gingerly across the room. It felt very strange at first, but her confidence came as she progressed, and shortly she felt as though she had been born to high heels. "To walk elegantly, ladies put one foot directly in front of the other, as if walking along a very narrow white line" he was instructed. "You should avoid the male habit of walking as if the feet were placed on each side of a 6" thick line." Marcella practised this, noting it developed a delicious swing to her hips and a gracious feminine walk, her skirt swirling from side to side, and she enjoyed not only the feeling of her swaying hips but the sensation of the skirt against her stockings. The donor sat on the bed and watched, smiling in congratulation. "Well done" she laughed, "now for the finishing touches every 'girl' uses". With that she again grabbed Michelle's hand and they both walked of down the hall, their heels clacking in unison, and they entered the master bedroom. The clothes that had been left on Hazel's bed had been put away, and the cover turned down to reveal the soft smooth texture of the pink satin sheets "I think you'll like yourself even more with a little make up" Michelle heard, "do let me try and see what I can do to finish you off properly". As by this time Mark/Michelle was almost totally into his feminine side, and the thrill of the heels, the caress of satin on nylon, the pull of suspender on stockings, the compelling sexuality of the miniskirted female overcame any minor objection he might still have had, and he nodded his agreement speechlessly. She sat him down on the stool in front of the dressing table, switched on all the lights at the top and side, and studied him for moment or two. Then, twisting the stool around so he could not see in the mirror, she started clipping his nails, quickly filing them to a more feminine shape after which she applied crimson nail varnish, enjoining Marcella to hold her hands very still until the varnish dried. Whilst waiting, with deft fingers, foundation cream was smoothed all over his face, chin and neck. Soon she leant down in front of him, putting eye shadow on his upper lids. to do it properly, she turned to face him and straddled his right leg, holding herself steady to concentrate by firmly gripping it between her thighs. The feeling of the warmth of her skin against his through his stockings and skirt was almost enough to make him swoon, but he was stirred awake again as she sat down on that leg, still astride. His mind played endless games as her sexuality was only a whisper of silk away from his skin. In this position she mascaraed his lashes, and lined his eyes to create an almost eastern sensuality. Michelle had to keep her eyes closed as her cheeks were finished powdered, using a very soft brush, added blusher to highlight the cheekbones. As he did he felt the softness of breasts occasionally brushing against his shoulders. When this happened Michelle moved her shoulders slightly, pressing them into the soft yielding flesh. Their owner appeared not to notice, as she also appeared not to notice when Michelle's hands were dangled by her sides, brushed against silky nylons. On one occasion the make-up artiste actually straddled one arm also as she again lifted one leg to place it between Marcella's, to get a better control of what she was doing. Her craftsmanship was finished off with a glistening crimson lipstick, the colour again matching his nails. She then teased his hair to a softer line, clipped on earrings which Marcella could feel pulling on her lobes and caressing her neck. The lowest drawer of the dressing table was slid open and out were pulled two soft forms. Undoing several buttons of Marcella' blouse, and sliding her hand in against Marcella's chest, (something Marcelle found tremendously sensual), his mentor removed the padding of pink panties, pausing only to pass favourable comment on his choice of impromptu padding. He felt her insert something else into the bra cups. Initially they were cool and heavy, but very quickly they became warm, making Mark feel almost as though he had real breasts. The forms were adjusted, and, with Hazel muttering about getting the nipples in the right place, the blouse was re-buttoned. A black leather belt was nipped around Marcella's waist, the line of the blouse adjusted, (again in the same way as Marcelle originally had, by pulling it down from UNDER the skirt, but this time it was HAZEL's hand!), and the waistband of the pink satin skirt realigned. His tutor stood looking for a moment, admiring and seeking flaws in her handiwork, and then, with a flourish, spun him around to see the final result. Marcella looked at herself in the mirror, and saw a fetching young lady, exquisitely made up, a pageboy hairdo offsetting a face with inviting eyes overshadowed by iridescent blue long curly lashes. A pair of long dangly clip-on earrings with stones which matched the colour of her lips framed the perfectly made up face, where all blemishes had been cunningly concealed, leaving an open invitation to pouting, kissable scarlet lips. She stood up, and gasped as she saw the complete picture. Through the shadow of her blouse full breasts could be seen, pushing the cups of her bra out, straining against the silken fabric of the blouse itself, with points at the peaks where the nipples, as if in sexual arousal, stood out hard, defying to be hidden through the lacy structure of the bra and silken underslip, inviting and arousing. The 2" wide belt nipped in the waist and enhanced the outwards curvature of the satin pink dress, which suggested it hid desirable secrets waiting to be unveiled, and the legs, so long, sensuously clad in fine soft denier, each deliciously curving at the calf, slim ankles slipping into tantalisingly erotic 3" heels sandals. Mark fell in love with Marcella that instant, and turned to his teacher, whispering "Thank you, thank you" as the emotion of being revealed as a beautiful woman instead of the harsh image of a man almost overcame her. "Hazel, how can I thank you?" he gasped again, gazing into those feminine eyes, his own soft and dewy. "I love you for it" he continued, shyly, almost under his breath For a few seconds they stood facing each other, eye to eye, two ravishing feminine beauties, and their bodies slowly swayed together and Marcella felt,?.no,?. knew,? they were going to kiss. Lips touched, and both felt a spasm of ecstasy flow. Their lips touched again, each flicking her tongue and tasting the lipstick of the other. As if drawn by an irresistible magnet they slowly put their arms around each other, drawing themselves tightly together. As their busts touched and compressed against their chests, and they felt the heat of each others thigh pressing urgently together, an emotional dam burst in each, and in a fraction of a second they were entwined in a full passionate embrace, scarlet lips on scarlet lips, mouths opening fully, tongues searching, seeking, teeth clashing. They fell backwards onto the bed, the coolness of the pink satin emphasising the eroticism of the moment. Hands wandered, caressed skin through silky nylon, fumbled under skirts, stroked nylon thighs, fingers slid under and over suspenders, flesh shivered with expectation, more stroking, more exploration over then under silken undergarments, panty lace legs pulled pulled out of the way by one, elastic pulled out of the way by the other, giving desired access,?.a cry of surprise discovery from Marcella?..more caressing, fingering, hardening, stroking, penetrating, holding, massaging, pulling, squeezing. Then in almost in unison, as one mouth was torn from the other, they turned their bodies head to toe, all the while hands keeping up a continual exploration of the other's sensuality. Heads crept between the other's thighs, there was more movement, more discovery, tongues searched, flicking, tasting, mouths opened, accepted, throating, minor gagging, sucking, heads bobbing, ecstasy erupting, flowing, tasting, sweet hot saltiness, two mouths overflowing, swallowing, tongues savouring, relishing, devouring, cleaning, sensitivity, tiredness creeping, resting, happiness, hands caressing silken buttocks, holding, eyes closing, bodies resting. It took a few minutes to recover, then Marcella twisted he body again to bring herself up from Hazels' loins and looked dreamily face to face at her new lover, and she kissed the lips next to hers, tasting another sweet saltiness. Hazel smiled and turned around tiredly to give her back to Marcella, but as they settled into the 'spoon' position, Marcella pushed hard against Hazel's back, and wrapped his arm around Hazel's waist. As his own organ felt the crease between Hazel's silken clad cheeks it started to harden again. Marcella's fingers slid down the silky tummy of the body in front of him, easing again under the waistband of the panties. He grasped the now soft appendage springing from Hazel's loins, and started stroking it back to the enjoyable hardness that he had so recently tasted, whispering to her "NOW I know know why everything fitted me so well, and how you knew exactly how and what to do to turn me on. Hazel, I just love your little secret?..and you can feel that I now want to show you just how much of a girl you can really be. ?... and I hope you'll be able to also show me how much more of a girl I also can be???." © 1999 Coral Marsh