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The Significant Other free porn video
The Significant Other
By Donna Gant
This story is about me, my husband Emilien, his alter-ego, Simone
and our lives. It is dedicated to all the transgendered people
out there and especially those of you who've yet to come out. I
hope this tale helps you come out and be the women you are
inside.
Emilien and I are in our late-twenties. We've been married for
six years and our marriage grows stronger with each passing year.
He's head of the sales department of a local software company and
has to go around the world on occasion to meet with business
associates. I however, run a psychology clinic. We're both second
generation Americans, his parents are French and mine Italian.
The day this all began, the day I caught him in the act, was two
years ago, in the summer of '99. Emilien had just returned from a
business trip from England and was taking a shower. His suitcase
was on our bed and I thought I'd help unpack. I took his pants
and shirts and placed them in the closet. But when I was halfway
through the clothes bundle I got a little surprise. A pair of
tights, a long, brown mane of a wig, and black knee high leather
boots, with staggering six inch heels. They were definitely not
my style, as I kept to the low heels, and besides, they were size
9, Emilien's number. I placed the boots, wig and tights on top of
the bundle and then went into the living room where I sat down on
the sofa and started reading a magazine, leaving the suitcase
open.
A few minutes later, the rush of the shower stopped, and Emilien
emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a white towel round his
tush. He went straight into the bedroom. Then the warning lights
went off in his head. He came into the living room and,
stuttering said:
"You ah, you've been through my suitcase?"
I nodded and put the magazine down.
"We need to talk" I replied.
He sat down on the sofa opposite me and swallowed. He had the
look of a man about to be executed, looked genuinely frightened.
"Don't worry, there's no corporal punishment in this house." I
told him to calm him down.
I wasn't angry at him at all, actually. Just confused.
"I know you have a good explanation, so let's hear it"
He sighed.
"OK. Here goes. First let me just say that I am not gay, I love
you more than anything and am absolutely not having an affair.
I'm a crossdresser."
I can honestly say that I knew from the first moment I saw items
1 through 3 in the suitcase that he was. It just sort of fit. He
continued talking.
"For how long, I don't know. Probably all my life. I've been
thinking about this since I first realized I am one. At first I
was terrified I was gay, because I absolutely did not want to be
gay. I did not want to spend my life married to another man.
Thankfully, those fears were quelled when I met you"
He smiled at me and continued.
"I've repressed this longing for crossdressing for years and
years, at first because of my homophobia and then because I
thought it'd upset you. But it's taken over my dreams. I haven't
dreamt about anything else for the last five years."
"I've always had a strange interest in women's clothes, shoes,
and makeup. I think that's because I grew up in a home with a
bossy, tomboy mother and a weak father figure. But where my
mother didn't wear makeup and sexy clothes, my best friend's did.
When we played hide and seek at their house, I sometimes hid in
the closet and tried on her gloves. And I was always fascinated
by the fact that women put so much effort into their looks,
unlike men, and that because of the women's rights movement,
women have moved into male territory, started wearing pants and
doing male jobs while we stay, willingly or unwillingly, inside
the old rules of how men should act and look".
"Anyway, repressing the urge doesn't work so I thought I'd
finally give it a try. This was the first step. I was going to
tell you about this soon, I swear, but I was going to lay the
groundwork first, try to soften the blow. Donna, if you want me
to, I'll throw them out and never do this again."
I said nothing for a while. A thousand things were running
through my mind. Excitement, even happiness. I was seeing a
different Emilien to the one I knew. But I liked this one too.
Emilien must have misread my silence though, because he started
to get up.
"I understand. I'll go. I can't expect you to accept this..." I
cut him off.
"Let's do it." I said. He obviously wasn't expecting this.
"What?"
"Darling, I understand. I do. And if it means so much to you, I
want to help you.
I want to be a part of this."
His face lit up
"Really? You mean it?"
I smiled at him, and he gave me one of his bearhugs that I so
love. Tears were running down his face.
"Oh, Donna, I love you to bits, you know that?"
"I know. But we're wasting time. Let's get to it."
I took his hand and led him to the bathroom. There I removed the
towel from his hips
"Grab a razor" I said and took mine. He got his, hesitating.
"You want to know how nylons feel? Then you'll have to be shaven.
And a girl with chest hair is no girl at all. You do arms and
chest, I'll do feet and buttocks."
He grinned at me and dug in. It's true what they say, French men
ARE hairy. It took almost half an hour to shave him. But when we
finally did finish he couldn't help but stroke those soft, soft
feet.
"Smooth like a baby's butt" He said, pleased.
"We're not done yet. Here's where the fun really begins"
I sat him down at my makeup table in the bedroom, but with his
back to the mirror, so he couldn't see his face until I was done
with him.
"You've never worn makeup before?" I asked.
"No"
"Well there's a first for everything. Prepare to be blown away"
I must confess, I'm something of a primadonna (with that name,
small wonder). I never leave the house without a mask of makeup
on me and I'm pretty good at it too. Maybe that's one of the
reasons Phillipe fell in love with me.
Anyway, Emilien has a pretty thick beard so it took a lot of
makeup to conceal it.
And the unibrow, although cute on a guy, had to go. Other than
that, his face is actually quite feminine, soft skin, petite
nose. And eyelashes to die for. I made him up heavily all the
same, tried to give him a movie star look.
It wasn't until I was done with the makeup that I realized his
short hair was not the most feminine of haircuts. I got the wig
from the suitcase and placed it on his head.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked him.
"From a dressing service in London. You know, they have
crossdressing TV presenters there. Trannies they call them. And I
even met a few in the street. Incredible."
The wig fit like a glove. The brown mane of curly hair spread all
over his shoulders.
"I thought of you as more of a blonde. Or a redhead. We'll have
to try that in the future"
"I'd like that" he replied.
"Can I look now?"
"No. Not until the illusion's complete. Though I can tell you,
you look very good"
He did too, a gorgeous woman from the shoulders up. The rest of
him needed work.
"I don't suppose you've bought a dress behind my back?"
"Afraid not. And I doubt I can squeeze into one of yours."
"Well, there's always the dress you got me from your cousin,
Gaultier."
"Jean-Paul? I thought you'd taken it back. That it was too big.
He said he'd have one of his people fix it so it fit you."
The dress in question was a long black leather gala dress. It was
easily the best dress I'd ever had. Unfortunately, Emilien had
gotten it too big. The torso part was supposed to be skintight,
but it was too loose on me. And yes, The Jean-Paul Gaultier is
Emilien's cousin.
"No, I never got around to it. I'll go get it. Meanwhile you put
on these panties and bra, and your tights. And don't you dare
peek in the mirror."
I threw him a pair of my underwear and went into the wardrobe,
the "armoury" as Emilien likes to call it. I found the dress and
handed it to Emilien who was now wearing my underwear and his
brand new tights. He held it for a while, just watching it.
"You know, I really wanted to see you in this" he said.
"Well, from this moment on, it's officially yours. And I really
want to see you in it. Go on"
Ever so gently, like it was made of glass, he slid into it. I
zipped him up. It fit to a T. Perfectly. Except...
"You'll need something to put into those bras. You're a tad flat-
breasted, for such a knockout"
"Knockout?" he said. Now he was really getting excited. His face
shone.
"There's always your sister Maria's breasts."
My sister had gotten silicone implants in her breasts a few years
back, but didn't like them, so she had them removed and gave me
the silicone bags. Six months later she got bigger implants. I
kept them in my makeup table. I had to unzip the dress for
Phillipe to put the bags into the bra, it was so tight. They made
a world of difference.
When he'd popped into the long boots, Emilien's back swayed back
and he almost fell over when he tried to walk. This was obviously
an alien sensation to him; he'd probably not worn them before. Or
any heels for that matter.
"Maybe those heels are a bit too big," he said.
"Nonsense. You'll just have to get used to 'em" I said. "Now
there are only these, and your done"
I gave him the black leather opera gloves that came with the
dress. Like a true computer nerd, Emilien has small fingers, so
putting on the female gloves wasn't that hard. They were just as
tight as the dress though. But because they were so thin the
fingers could be moved freely.
"All right, now you can look"
He turned and looked at himself in the mirror.
"My go," he gasped. "You've created Liz Hurley's kid sister!"
He had a point. He looked very much like Ms.Hurley, actually.
Drop dead gorgeous, from head to toe. He hugged me, and kissed
me. It was the best kiss I'd ever had.
"Thank you, Donna." he said.
"You'll need a name." I said. "Can't call you Emilien when you're
like this.
"Simone," he said. Only it wasn't in his voice. He'd changed it
to a deep contralto. It fit him, her perfectly. Both the name and
the voice.
"Simone? I like it. So, Simone, how about we go out to dinner?"
"Sounds Lovely" she said.
The next half hour Simone spent practicing how to walk in heels,
and I dressed up. I made reservations at the finest restaurant in
town. When we left she'd really gotten the hang of the heel walk.
I gave her my fur coat and we went hand in hand out to the car.
I was the car enthusiast of the marriage and had saved up for a
year to buy the car of my dreams, a Ferrari. Worth every penny.
"So, Simone, you wanna drive?"
"Me? But you never let me drive your car" she said.
"No, I never let Emilien drive my car. A girlfriend deserves
special treatment, don't you think?"
She grinned. I gave her the keys. She opened the door and sat
down, swinging her feet into the car. I did the same and she
started up the car. It roared.
"How'd you know how to enter the car in a dress?"
"I've watched you do it tons of times. Besides, I can barely move
my feet in this dress. I had no choice."
I bent over and kissed her gently. She stroked my face with her
gloved hand, love shining in her eyes.
"Better put your seatbelt on. It's gonna be a wild ride."
And we roared into the night.
The dinner was fantastic. We had the time of our lives.
Especially Simone. When we were done eating we went to the bar,
got ourselves a table in the corner, and talked for hours. We
steered clear of the whole subject of crossdressing though. I
treated her just like another girl and that was just what she
wanted. This was her night.
When we got home, on our way up to the house, I said:
"You know Simone, I don't think I've ever had such a good time.
We should make this a habit."
"Really? I'd like that. I like this. I like Simone. She's so much
more fun than Phillipe." she said.
"How about next weekend? We'll have to get you some clothes of
your own, of course. Lovely as it is, you can't wear this dress
every time you go out. And more shoes and boots."
"And wigs. I like this one, but there's room for improvement. And
I really wanna try being a blonde. And a redhead"
We laughed, and she kissed me. That night we had the best sex of
our marriage, though it's gotten a whole lot better since then.
Kinkier too. Emilien was ecstatic about this, and I was so glad I
could make him this happy. I guess you could say it was the first
day of our new lives. Everything changed after that, really.
It's been two years since then, and Simone has grown and
prospered, and I with her. The size of her wardrobe rivals mine
and we go out every single weekend, sometimes more often. I have
lots more to tell and I'll keep posting those stories in the near
future.
If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to send me
mail
Love,
-Donnatella Gant
donna_lamour@h...
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