Please fuck my Girlfriend
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Klinger's Girlfriend free porn video
"Klinger's Girlfriend" by Alana
Lieutenant Debbie Clarke walked into the club and spotted the man she wanted to sleep
with. He was hard to miss, wearing a short, tightly fitting black cocktail dress, sitting near
the piano with his legs crossed, singing a drunken duet with Major Charles Emerson
Winchester. His legs looked so sexy in those dark nylons and black pumps. The wrong
sex, but sexy nonetheless.
She approached him as they finished singing "Stormy Weather".
"Max," she said, "could we talk?"
Klinger looked at her drunkenly, then looked at the Major.
"Oh, go ahead," said Winchester, "never let it be said that I stood in the way of true love
between you two lovely ladies. Klinger, as I have said before, you are a gentleman and a
lady."
Winchester playfully snapped Klinger's bra strap in passing, before sitting down at a
table.
Lieutenant Debbie Clarke was surprised. No one had done that to her since high school.
"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked.
"Not as much as the average bullet wound. Which, who knows, I might be receiving any
day now if I don't get the hell out of Korea."
He stood up. He was a little shaky on his feet, but it was because he was drunk, not
because of his three-inch heels.
"Why is this taking so long?" he asked loudly of the entire bar. "It never took my Uncle
Zack this long to get out of World War I! I'm dressed like a woman! Hello! I'm wearing
a dress! I suppose that means nothing to you people!"
"On the contrary," said Hawkeye, "it prevents you from being naked."
"Max, let's sit down," she said.
They went to a table, and because Klinger was drunk he wasn't as careful sitting down, as
he should've been.
"Max, dear, your slip is showing," she said.
He tugged at his dress.
"I don't usually wear lingerie," he said. "I figure, what's the point, if no one's gonna see
it? But sometimes you just feel like being dressy."
"Of course. Max, what I wanted to say is, I'm sorry I came on so strong. I didn't want to
force you into anything you didn't want to do."
"That's OK, Debbie. It's just; I need to be a virgin for the woman I marry. I mean, you
know, the next woman I marry."
"I can respect that. I just don't think we should give up on this relationship because of
one simple misunderstanding. Couldn't we give it another try? And by the way, that is
such a gorgeous dress you're wearing."
"Like it? It's Bonwit Teller."
"You look incredible. To tell the truth, I'm a little disappointed you didn't wear one of
your pretty dresses for our little date in the storage closet."
"You like me better in a dress? I'm sorry, but that's just?that's just weird."
"Max!"
"Well, it is! It's unnatural. How do I know you won't be nagging me to slip on a dress or
dress in a slip when we get back to Toledo?"
"Max, we talked about this. I never agreed to marry you or move to Toledo with you, and
I don't want you to bring that up again until we get to know each other a little better. I'll
respect your wishes, but you have to respect mine."
"OK. Agreed," said Klinger.
A half-empty beer bottle was left on the table, and Lieutenant Debbie Clarke saw her
opportunity.
"Let's shake on it," she said, extending her hand and knocking over the beer bottle,
spilling the beer all over Klinger's dress.
"Debbie!" he said, jumping up.
"I'm sorry."
"Look what you did. I can't stand around in a damp dress all night. People will laugh!"
"I'm really sorry. Look, why don't we get you back to your tent and you can slip into
something dry?"
"Oh, all right, but you should've been more careful."
"Well, come on. I'll help you. Steady, now."
The woman and the one in the dress left the club together, Debbie helping the cross-
dressing corporal with one arm around his waist.
She realized that he wasn't wearing a girdle. Good, one less thing to get him out of. Still,
it wasn't fair that her boyfriend had a better figure than she did, even without a girdle. Or
that he had prettier legs.
They made their way out of the club, and they hadn't gone far before running into Zale.
"Klinger!" said Zale. "Hold it right there! You know what I told you. You have to do."
"Drop dead, Zale. I never told you I'd do it."
"You do it or I'll pound you!"
"Forget it, Zale."
"Max," said Lieutenant Clarke, "whatever it is, just do it and get it over with."
Klinger shrugged. He reached down and hiked up his tight dress and his black lace slip,
all the way above his waist until his panties were showing.
"Lower your eyes when you're talking to a real man," said Zale.
Klinger lowered his gaze.
"OK, drop your skirt. And do that every time I see you from now on, you pervert."
"Pervert! You're the one who likes looking at a man's panties."
Zale got angry and started moving in for a fight, but Lieutenant Clarke stepped in to
break it up.
"You're just lucky these are brand new nylons, or I'd clobber you, Zale."
"Ooh, I'm all a tremble, Hairy Mary."
Zale continued on his way, and Corporal Klinger kept staggering to his tent, assisted by
Lieutenant Clarke.
"Max, forgive me if this is too personal, but how do you keep your nylons up without any
garter belts?"
"Oh, that's a little invention of mine. I got some extra-long nylons, and I sewed them to
my panties. Panties and hose in one! I'm gonna market my invention when I get back to
Toledo. I'll call 'em hose-panties. What do you think?"
Lieutenant Clarke shook her head.
"They'll never be popular. If you got a run in one leg you'd have to throw out the whole
pair. That's wasteful."
"I never thought of that. You're right; I guess it's not such a good idea. Oh well, I
suppose I'll have to make my fortune some other way."
"Max, tell me something. Did you ever wear dresses when you were a little?uh?boy?"
"Well, have you ever heard of petticoat punishment?"
"Every petticoat I ever had to wear I considered punishment."
"Whenever I got in trouble for fighting my mom would subject me to petticoat
punishment. She'd put me in one of my sister's frilly white lace party dresses, white
tights and black Mary Janes and send me out to play where all the boys could see me and
make fun of me. If my dad was still alive back then he would've put a stop to it."
"I see."
"The next day I'd be back in pants, but all the boys would still keep calling me Maxine,
and I just got into fights again. So the next day I was forced back into dresses. It got to
the point where the boys would beat me up every time I left the house wearing pants.
Then I discovered that if I was wearing a really pretty, feminine dress, the boys would
laugh at me and tease me and flip up my skirt, but they wouldn't beat me up, because I
was like an honorary girl. That's when it hit me: if you slip on a pretty dress, you don't
have to fight and get hurt."
"Hmmm?"
"So with a choice between getting beat up and wearing dresses, I naturally did what any
reasonable boy would do. I started wearing my sister's dresses full-time, except for
school. My mom thought it was cute. She said I was just following along in the family
tradition, getting ready for the army. I come from a long, brave line of cowards."
"Did you wear lingerie, back then?"
"Oh, my mom checked my lingerie every time I left the house. I had to lift up my skirt
for her to check. She always used to say, 'No son of mine is gonna leave the house
without a slip and a panty-girdle and a decent pair of nylons under his frock.' If she found
out I've ever been walking around in boxer shorts and a T-shirt under my dresses I'd
never hear the end of it."
"Really?"
"Sure. After I started wearing dresses full-time, sis would always take me to play with the
other girls. We would play with dolls, and play jump rope and hop-skotch, and skip along
the street in our party dresses. Sometimes we would go to each other's houses and try on
each other's skirts and blouses. That was fun. The girls were so much nicer to me than
the boys. They would giggle at me, but they giggled at pretty much everything."
"Naturally."
"I remember when I was 15, sis and I and some other girls were sitting around looking at
fashion magazines, and some boys came to get me for a football game because some
other boy was sick. They wouldn't take no for an answer, and they wouldn't let me go
home and change. I remember I was wearing this really tight pink lace dress and
matching pumps. When we got to the field I saw that it was covered in mud. Great. They
made me the center. When I tried to hike the ball I wound up hiking up my skirt instead.
It was so hard to run in heels and that tight dress; I kept slipping on the mud and getting
mud all over my sister's dress and nylons. I kept thinking, this is so unfair. I wear dresses
so I don't have to do things like this. Finally my mom and my sister showed up and put a
stop to it, just in time, because I'd just busted a garter belt. And when we got home, sis
was complaining so much about me ruining her dress, so mom had to do something."
"So, no more dresses?"
"No, she just started buying me my own dresses. And I got tired of sis always borrowing
my clothes, so I started taking the darts out of them so they wouldn't fit her."
"That was smart. So, did you ever go to school wearing a dress?"
"Only the prom."
"The prom? Really?"
"Oh, sure. I was dating Laverne by that time, and I hadn't worn any dresses for a few
years because Laverne didn't like it, for some reason. But on the day of the prom, all of a
sudden Laverne decides she has to shorten her prom gown. We're the same dress size, so
like any gentleman would do, I offered to model it for her. She didn't want me to, but
there was no one else she could find. So I put on her bra and her girdle, and stepped into
her dress and zipped it up. And wouldn't you know it, when we were done I tried to take
it off and the zipper was stuck. Isn't that always the way?"
"Absolutely."
"Laverne tugged and tugged at it, but she couldn't unzip me. So what else could we do?
She wore my tux and I wore her prom gown. Oh, that was a wonderful night. I felt so
magical, whirling about the dance floor in her pink chiffon gown and pink heels, wearing
her earrings and bracelets and necklace, and the corsage I got for her. I felt pretty. Oh, so
pretty. I felt pretty, and witty, and?well, anyway, I felt sorry for Laverne in my
uncomfortable tux, but what could I do? These things happen."
"Of course."
"The next day she had to cut me out of her gown, which was too bad, but it wouldn't fit
either one of us by now, anyway. We've both really let ourselves go. I've lost my figure
since I got into the army. The strange thing is, we were always supposed to get married,
but the night of the prom she told me she didn't want to marry me, for some reason. I
never found out why. It wasn't until I got to Korea that she sent me a letter saying she
changed her mind and she would marry me. Here we are."
They got to Klinger's tent. Lieutenant Clarke was surprised that Klinger got to live in his
own tent, and said so.
"Yeah, none of the other guys want to room with me. I don't know why that is."
Lieutenant Clarke assumed she'd be going with Klinger into his tent while he slipped out
of his dress, but Klinger asked her to wait outside.
"Oh, come on, Max! You're not wearing anything I haven't worn. It's just us
two?soldiers, here."
"Debbie, a man has to preserve a hint of mystery about him."
"You sure you don't need any help getting unzipped?"
"Oh, suddenly I'm helpless? I've been taking off my own dresses for years before you
came along. Wait right there, I won't be a minute."
But it was twenty minutes before Klinger emerged from his tent in a different frock.
"Wow! Max, you look wonderful! That is such a cute dress."
Klinger smiled and curtseyed and pirouetted expertly for her in his chiffon floral dress
with the purple ribbons streaming from the shoulders. His former drunkenness seemed to
be forgotten.
"Like it?" he asked.
"I love it! You look so feminine and lady-like."
"Thank you. I feel feminine and lady-like."
"That dress is well worth the wait."
"I'm sorry I took so long. I had to change my slip and my nylons, too, of course. And my
heels."
"Of course. You have the prettiest dresses I've ever seen. Let me look at your collection."
Without waiting for a response, she went into Klinger's tent.
"Wait a minute, Debbie."
She threw open his wardrobe and gasped at the dazzling array of silks, chiffons, and
satins.
"I have to try on some of your dresses," she said, and started to take off her shirt.
"No!" said Klinger, and pulled her by the arm out of her tent.
"Max! Why can't I try on some of your clothes?"
"I know what you're doing! First you want to watch me slip out of my dress, and then
you go into my tent and start taking off your clothes! This is just your way of trying to
get into my panties, isn't it?"
"No! I was just?I just wanted?"
She sat down on a bench and looked exasperated.
"OK. You're right."
He stood with his hands on his hips, looking at her angrily.
"I don't know why everyone seems to think I'm stupid just because I wear dresses. Like
my IQ goes down 20 points the minute I hook my bra."
"I'm sorry, Max. I should've respected your wishes. I'm sorry."
"Tell me something, Debbie. Why are you so attracted to me, anyway?"
"I don't know, Max. You're different."
He sat next to her, tucking his skirt beneath him and crossing his legs. He suddenly
realized that he'd dropped a bra strap, and reached under his dress to retrieve it.
"Different? How?"
"You're kind. Gentle. You're nice."
"Well, thank you. I have a confession to make. There's a reason I chose this dress."
"What do you mean?"
"I was wearing this dress when Radar gave me the news that Laverne agreed to marry
me. I thought if I proposed to you in this, well, it might bring me good luck, and you
might say yes."
"I see."
"I thought of getting into my wedding gown, but that might be a bit obvious."
Lieutenant Debbie Clarke sighed.
"So I guess neither of us is really respecting the other's wishes, are we? I guess this just
isn't going to work out after all, is it Max?"
"I guess not."
"It's too bad. We could've been great together."
She put one hand under his skirt, and under the lacy hem of his white satin slip. A couple
of nurses were passing by, and they giggled when they saw this.
"You sure, Max? There's no reason you couldn't slip out of that pretty dress and let me
make you happy."
"Debbie, I already told you, I'm not that kind of a guy."
"Can't blame a gal for trying."
They stood up, Klinger tugging down his dress so his slip wouldn't show.
"One goodbye kiss? I promise I won't try anything."
"OK," said Klinger.
Lieutenant Debbie Clarke put her arms around Max Klinger, and they kissed tenderly.
Klinger lifted one leg behind him.
Her fingers strayed near the clasp of his bra, but she kept her word and didn't undo
anything.
When they were through kissing, Klinger said, "Oh, go ahead and unhook my bra. I need
to slip out of my dress and get to bed, anyway."
"Only if you unhook mine," she said.
With their arms around each other, they unhooked each other's bras expertly.
"Still want to borrow a dress?" he asked.
"No. I never wear dresses. I hate wearing a dress."
"That figures."
"I was just hoping, once I got my clothes off, things would just, you know, happen."
"I know."
"Good night, Max. I still wish I could've talked you out of that dress."
"Don't feel bad. You tried. The U.S. Army has been trying for years to get me to take off
my dresses, and they haven't had any more luck than you."
"Never give up, Max. You'll get that Section eight one day. If you ever cover up those
pretty legs of yours in a pair of trousers I'll be very disappointed in you."
"Never fear. The next pair of pants I put on will be in Toledo, Ohio. They'll never get me
to stop wearing dresses, even if they kill me. My last wish is to be buried in my mother's
wedding gown."
THE END
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