The Swimming Pool Incident (Or Carol's Story) free porn video

The Swimming Pool Incident. (Or Carol's Story) - by: Belle Gordon. This story details the early life of Carol Parsons who first appeared in "My Wonderful Neighbour", and then in "A Telephone Call". It contains explicit scenes of sexual activity so if you are likely to be offended please read no further. Chapter I I pulled the bell knob at the side of the imposing door and heard it faintly ringing somewhere deep inside the house. It was several minutes before Watford the butler opened it. "Good morning, Mr. Parsons" he greeted me in his most unctuous voice. His manner always made me feel slightly intimidated. "Good morning, Watford," I replied. "I have documents for Sir Henry." "I'm afraid Sir Henry is not here at the present, but Lady Agnes will receive you. Please follow me. She is on the roof garden by the pool." As I followed Archibald Watford up several flights of stairs, I couldn't help admiring his neat, tight bottom moving suggestively inside his trousers. He was a dapper little man of about 40, who was always impeccably dressed and groomed. His shoes were always polished to a high shine and his pin-stripe trousers pressed to razor sharp creases. His grey silk tie and long-tail coat were perfectly tailored. I knew nothing more about him other than that he ran the London home of Sir Henry and Lady Agnes Carlisle with super-efficiency. The house was a huge mansion in the heart of London's Mayfair. A multi storied building with every last luxury as befitted one of the wealthiest men in the land. As we made our way to the roof top swimming pool I was once again awe-struck by the opulence and grandeur all about, and dumbfounded to see priceless paintings by old masters hanging on the walls and not in some closely guarded museum or gallery. This was the sixth occasion I had visited the house in North Audley Street. As a newly qualified law student I had been taken on as the junior, junior, lowest-of-the-low, lawyer in the firm of Messr. Hobbs and Guiney, Solicitors at Law and Public Notaries of Camberwell Green, EC4. As the firms general dogs-body, it fell to me to do the menial jobs and whatever running around was necessary. The company had recently been engaged by Carlisle Holdings plc. to act on their behalf in a forthcoming take-over, and as one of our most important clients I was dispatched whenever documents needed signing, instead of the usual messengers, which was the reason I was here now. As we topped of the fifth flight of stairs I found myself becoming slightly breathless. I told myself I should get back into training as my slight body was obviously out of condition. Watford always used the stairs despite there being an elevator, which annoyed me, but probably accounted for his trim figure. By the time we reached the roof garden on the seventh floor I was gasping for air. I'd never been to this part of the house before. I was usually taken to an office on a lower floor, where Sir Henry conducted his business when in residence. We exited from the gloom of the building to the bright sunshine of the outdoors. Large potted plants were all about giving the area a tropical feel. They were arranged so closely together that it was not possible to see the whole area at once. As I pushed the fronds of a giant fern aside I was greeted with the sight of Lady Agnes lying on her back, clad only in the tiniest g-string. Her beautiful breasts were evenly tanned; indicating that she regularly sun-bathed topless. Her German maid, Fraulein Ingrid Koln was smoothing sun cream onto her long golden thighs. Staring at the two women and avoiding the greenery I failed to see the edge of the pool until it was too late. I stupidly tripped on the raised edge and plunged head long into it. Instinctively I threw the brief case to safety, because even in my moment of panic I realised I must not damage the documents within. Watford deftly caught the case as it flew through the air. The splash dowsed Lady Agnes and Fraulein Ingrid eliciting shouts of protest. The former because of the sudden shock of cold water on her bare skin and the maid because her uniform was wet. I struggled to the side of the pool, the weight of my soaking three- piece suit dragging me down and hauled myself out. Lady Agnes was furious, but despite her anger I couldn't take my eyes from her beautiful nakedness which she made no effort to cover. "You stupid oaf!" she screamed. "Thank God you didn't get the briefcase wet. Go with Watford and find some dry clothes then come back here and explain yourself." "Yes my Lady. I'm so sorry. I didn't see the edge." I stammered pathetically. I turned and squelched after Watford, leaving wet footprints behind me. As I left the area I heard the two women burst into laughter. Watford led me down a staircase at the back of the house, which was probably for the servants use, and into a room that was obviously his own. It was frugally furnished with only a bed, a chest of drawers, a small sofa and a writing desk cum dressing table. Every thing was spotlessly clean and neat. The bed was beautifully made without a single crease to spoil the perfection of the counterpane. His shoes were lined up in a perfect row beneath the bed and his suits hung to attention on a rail. His toilet articles, hairbrush and comb were neatly aligned on his wash stand, and his towel was carefully hung beneath. He placed a large white towel on the floor and stood me on it, then knelt and removed my shoes. Standing he undid the single button of my jacket and slid it off my shoulders, then unbuttoned my waistcoat and removed it. The thought crossed my mind that I'd just ruined a brand new suit that had cost me more that I'd ever previously paid for an article of clothing. Watford unbuckled the belt of my trousers and was reaching for the zip when I suddenly grabbed the front in a panic. "No. No" I said, "I can do it myself. You don't have to help me." "Don't be silly," he said, "we're both men. What are you worried about." He was about to find out as he dropped my trousers to reveal the mauve silk and lace panties, matching garter belt and beige nylon stockings that I wore. "Ha Ah! So Sir likes to wear petty things I see. A secret crossdresser no less," he smirked. I felt my face burning as a scarlet flush rose from my neck. Watford had meanwhile removed my shirt and tie to reveal the matching camisole under it. My breasts, with their hard nipples were clearly visible through the wet material. I tried to cover them with my arms. I stood speechless with embarrassment as Watford admired my feminine clothing. I felt so ashamed that this virtual stranger had discovered my secret fetish. "Very nice," Watford said, walking round to examine my back view, "Very nice indeed. You have a lovely body you know. Very curvy! You could easily pass for a girl." Despite my utter humiliation, at being exposed in this way, I was flattered by his compliments. I was further mortified when I realised that my cock had become erect and was peeping from the top of my panties. I dropped one hand from my chest and tried to cover it but Watford had already noticed. "Let's get the rest of these things off," he said and expertly removed my wet lingerie. Standing naked, on the towel, vainly trying to conceal my hard-on and breasts, he placed another round my shoulders and rubbed my dry. "Now I must find you something dry to wear," he said. He bundled up the pile of wet clothes and departed leaving me alone. I took the opportunity to dry my hair. The water had straitened it out but now the curls and ringlets returned. Watford came back a few minutes later carrying a small bundle of pink material. "As you plainly prefer wearing women's underclothes I've borrowed these from Fraulein Ingrid. I hope they are the right size. Turn round," he ordered. I did so and be slipped a lacy bra up my arms and clipped it together at the back. He adjusted the shoulder straps so that the cups sat correctly over my breasts. Stooping he held a pair of panties open for me to step into, then drew them up my legs. My unruly member pushed the front out into an obscene bulge. Finally he held open on a beautiful pink satin negligee. It was trimmed with a feather boa round the collar, down the front and round the hem. I slipped my arms into the long sleeves and he tied the belt in a bow at my waist. "Hang on a minute," I began to protest, as my mind re-engaged and the realisation of what he'd dressed me in hit home. "I can't wear these. I have to go and discuss business with her Ladyship and I can't possibly let her see me like this. What will she say when she discovers I like wearing women's clothes. She'll have me fired before I can say 'Victoria's Secret.'" "She'll have you fired anyway if you don't get a move on and go to her. Don't worry, she's very broad-minded. And anyway, if you choose to wear pretty feminine underthings you must accept the consequences. Now put these shoes on and let's go. She doesn't like to be kept waiting." Pushing my feet into a pair of fluffy pink mules I followed him back up the stairs. It was nice wearing heels again although these were a little lower than the ones I usually wore. I enjoyed the tension they caused in my calves and the way my walk changed. I unconsciously adopted small mincing steps. Despite my impending expos? I was thrilled by the feel of the swirling negligee about my legs as I walked and the grip of the bra supporting my breasts. I longed to wear a bra to the office but was afraid to in case someone noticed the telltale straps through my shirt. "Wait here a second," Watford ordered. He walked to the side of Lady Agnes' bed and whispered something into her ear. I saw her smile and say something back. Watford beckoned me to approach. With a mounting sense of dread and shame I walked out onto the roof. Lady Agnes put aside the magazine she'd been reading and looked up as she heard my approaching clip clop. A huge smile covered her face when she saw the scantily clad transvestite. I clutched the gown together at my crutch in an effort to hide my throbbing erection. "Well, well. What have we here?" she sneered, looking me up and down. "Macho Mister Karol turns out to be femmy Miss Carol. Watford told me what you were wearing under your smart business suite. I thought you were too pretty to be a man the first time you came here. Come and sit here and tell all about your deviation. I'm fascinated to know how you came to prefer women's underwear. I do love little sissy boys!" Chapter II My mother died two minutes and twenty seconds after I came into the world. A short while after her death my father disappeared. The fact that his wife was no longer alive unhinged his mind in some way. He loved her dearly and with her passing the purpose for his life left also. I knew very little about him. He was of Polish origin, Karol Wojtyla, an itinerant worker who turned up one day and wooed mother. She was bewitched with his dark good looks and roguish ways. I heard years later that he had drifted to Italy and was living in Rome, but I never had any confirmation of this. I was named Karol after my father and was brought up by my mother's sister Winifred and her husband Charles Parsons whose name I took. Aunt Winnie and Uncle Charles were a devoted couple though sadly childless due to Uncle Charles's infertility. They lived a comfortable life in the country earning a good living from freelance writing and shrewd and successful share dealing. My childhood and early school years were uneventful till at the age of 14 Aunt Win died from cancer. Two years previous she'd had a double mastectomy and it was hoped that the cancer had been excised but she developed secondaries in her lymph glands and died within six weeks of it being diagnosed. Her death coincided with the start of boarding school for me, so I only saw Uncle Charles at holiday times after that. The effect on both of us was dramatic in totally different ways. Uncle Charles lapsed into a depression that required a long period of psychotherapy before he was eventually restored to health. But he never remarried and, so far as I knew, rarely socialised. Whether it was the trauma of Aunt Winnie's death or just happenstance I do not know but at about this time my physical development ceased. It was as though my natural growth was suddenly switched off. I was 5' 3'' and weighed 105 lbs. at the time, and there I stayed. My hair and nails continued to grow, however, but my voice failed to break and I grew no beard or pubic hair. My body retained the soft flawless skin of a child. One day at school when I'd gone to the sick bay not feeling well, Matron noticed my lack of growth as compared to the other boys and made an appointment for me to see a specialist paediatrician. He diagnosed a rare condition known K.I.S, the Kroningsberg-Idriss Syndrome after the doctors who first identified it. I was told that, unfortunately there was no treatment other than certain drugs, which often had undesirable side effects. Years later, normal development could suddenly recommence for some sufferers, but for others it never did. Other unfortunates might develop normally only in specific areas such as the legs or arms, or even just the head and become hideously deformed. It was explained to me that it had something to do with X and Y chromosomes but I didn't understand at the time. Uncle Charles believed that my mother was lacking in some vital element so that I didn't have a proper start. That I didn't get the correct quota of genes or something, but I thought this was nonsense. My lack of growth was not a problem at first, but as I grew older and moved through boarding school and then on to university I became the butt of jokes and taunts. I was physically unable to play the usual boys games of cricket, rugby or rowing. I had no inclination to take part anyway, and much preferred to watch from the sidelines with the girls. My youthful appearance did have some advantages though; I could always travel half fare on trains and buses, but against this I couldn't go into pubs without being questioned as to my age. I made it a habit to always carry some ID wherever I went. During my second year at university, shortly after I'd celebrated my twenty first birthday, I found I was free from lectures for a week, so decided to head home and spend the time studying in the glorious summer countryside. I arrived at the house in the early afternoon when the sun was at its hottest. As was my habit I walked round the house to the rear and enter through a gate in the hedge. As I approached the gap in the hedge I was startled to hear voices. I hadn't expected anyone to be here because when I'd telephoned earlier there had been no answer. Uncle Charles often went into the city on weekdays and I'd assumed that that was where he was. I stopped and peeped round the corner curious to see who was there. Seated on garden chairs facing each other beside the swimming pool were two people. I recognised Uncle Charles sitting with his back to me by his long fair hair. Facing me was an attractive young woman whom I didn't recognise. They were sipping from fluted glasses; a large jug filled with ice and fruit was on the table between them. The woman was dressed in a halter top summer dress that left her shoulders and arms bare. The skirt flared about her knees and on her feet were strapy open toed sandals. Her long auburn hair was gathered up with a ribbon and tied in a bow on top of her head. They were chatting animatedly together and laughing. They were obviously very close friends. They held hands across the table and gazed into each other's eyes. As I watched Uncle Charles got up and went behind the woman's chair. He lent forward and kissed her on the lips. As their lips touched together his hand fell to her breast and he gently squeezed it. At the same time the woman's hand slid up Uncle Charles's thigh and cupped his buttock. Breaking the kiss Uncle Charles turned and walked into the house. He wore the tiniest white shorts I'd ever seen. They hugged his buttocks so tightly they squeezed them into prominent rolling globes. The seam was forced into the crease of his arse separating and lifting his buns. I could see the lower inch of each cheek below the cuff of the leg. On his top he wore a sleeveless printed silk shirt that was knotted at the waist leaving his midriff and arms bare. His shapely, tanned legs were completely hairless and on his feet he wore gold flip-flop type sandals. As I watched him mince into the house, his hair swaying about his neck I decided I shouldn't interrupt their intimacy. I quietly withdrew, and headed back to the village. I found a phonebox and called him saying I was on my way home and was in the village. Was there anything he needed? As I approached the house for the second time I saw a car leaving with the woman driving. I was obviously not going to be introduced. Uncle Charles met me at the door wearing an oversized Aston Villa football shirt that covered him completely to mid thigh. We sat and talked by the pool till the sun began to sink and a chill came into the air, then moved inside. We ate our supper in front of the television and relaxed with a bottle of wine. I found my eyes were constantly drawn to Uncle Charles's bare legs and the sandal that he dangled from him toes. They were very long and curvaceous and although I had seen them many times before I had never appreciated how womanly they looked. I was shocked to realise that the shoes had one-inch heels and were unmistakably women's and that his toenails were painted bright red. That night my sleep was troubled with images of Uncle Charles's legs and the picture my mind retained of his rolling bum cheeks as he walked into the house. Chapter III I awoke late the next morning with the sunshine streaming into my window. I lay for several minutes trying to recapture my dreams but as usually happens they soon fade away. I arose and walked naked into the bathroom. I peed and stepped into the shower. Back in my room I looked for something to wear. It was Saturday and I planned to spend the day sunbathing and swimming. I opened my wardrobe and was surprised to see a beautiful black crepe-de-chine cocktail dress hanging there. It had a plunging neckline with thin spaghetti shoulder straps, a hip hugging, mid thigh length skirt that was lined with black silk. The bodice was embroidered with silver thread. I couldn't imagine how it had got there or why it was in my wardrobe. Impulsively I took it down and held it to my front as I looked in the mirror. I thought it would probably fit me if I were to wear it. Suddenly I realised what I was doing and put it back, but at the same time I was disturbed by the surge of excitement I had felt as I held the dress to my body and looked at myself. Despite what the paediatrician had said when I was a boy, my body has continued to develop, but only very slowly and not in the normal way. I have grown very little in height, about an inch and half and my weight has stayed more or less the same. I have small feet and hands with narrow shoulders. My arms are a bit too thin but my legs have firm thighs and calves. I am still completely devoid of facial and body hair but my head hair is thick and lustrous. It is fair like Uncle Charles's but unlike his straight hair mine is naturally curly and forms into ringlets that fall about my face. My face still appears to be that of a small girl with delicate, pixie features and full pouty lips. My nose is narrow and straight with a cute turned up end. I have large greeny- blue eyes with thick dark lashes. I used to be so embarrassed by my feminine looks that I sometimes tried to disguise the fact. One time I tried wearing a false moustache but this only made me look like Gwyneth Paltrow in the film "Shakespeare in Love." Another physical development that had alarmed me when it began is that I have grown breasts. Albeit only small breasts but unmistakable breasts never the less. Not soft flabby pectorals, but perfectly shaped woman's breasts. At one time I measured them and discovered I was a 34A. My nipples are prominent with round pink aureoles that are very sensitive and will erect and tingle whenever I fondle them. In contrast to the feminisation of my upper body my genitals have remained definitely male, although quite small by comparison with my contemporaries. My balls dropped eventually and I can produce a fair quantity of sperm when I masturbated, but my voice hasn't broken. All in all, I contemplated, as I examined my image in the mirror, I am a bit of a freak, neither a total male nor a total female. Donning a pair of jeans and tee shirt I went down stairs to breakfast. Uncle Charles was sitting at the kitchen table reading Vogue magazine. He was wearing the pink nylon dressing gown that had been Aunt Winnie's and which he'd appropriated, as, he explained, he didn't have one of his own. I poured myself a cup of coffee, made some toast and sat next to him at the table. "Doesn't it make you envious sometimes?" he asked. "Uh?" not knowing what he was talking about. "Well look," he said turning the magazine for me to see the picture he was looking at. It showed a glamorous model wearing a stunning, strapless, sequinned evening dress. The skirt was cut to the thigh and showed her nylon-clad leg in a black patent leather stiletto heeled shoe. Her hair was pilled on top of her head and held in place with a diamond tiara. Glittering pendant earrings hung from her ears and a heavy diamond necklace was about her neck. Around her naked shoulders was a mink stole. Her arms were covered to her biceps in black kid opera gloves and she held a foot long ivory cigarette holder. "Don't you sometimes wish that you could wear something as lovely as this? I mean, it's not fair that women should be the only ones allowed to wear such gorgeous clothes." "Well, I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it," I said. But at the same time felt a twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach. "Of course," he said, "you have to wear the proper foundation garments under such a gown. Something like this." He flipped through the pages until he found a photograph of a woman wearing a black lacy basque and panties. Her legs were clad in black nylon stockings, the lacy welts held taught by the suspenders. "It takes a lot of care and preparation to wear something like this and look this good." "Yes I suppose it does," I said. He continued to study the magazine while I sipped my coffee. My mind pondered what he had said and the thought caused my cock to harden slightly "Aren't you curious to find out what it feels like to wear a dress and underwear like this?" he asked. "Well yes, I think it would be an interesting experience," I replied trying to sound non-committal. Rising and replacing my cup and plate I asked him, "I didn't bring any swimming things, do you have something I could borrow?" "Sure, I think I can find you something. I'll go and look." He returned a short while later and handed me a small scrap of material. "All I could find I'm afraid. But don't worry, no-one will see you." I returned to my room, removed my jeans and put it on. It was a minuscule g-string made from gold lam?. The thong completely disappeared between my arse cheeks leaving my buttocks totally bare, and the front barely contained my cock and balls. It was obviously the bottom half of a bikini. What the hell, I thought, as Uncle Charles had said, no one would see me. When I walked out to the pool he was lying on a sun bed rubbing sun- cream onto his naked chest and arms. He wore the tiny little white shorts I'd seen yesterday. The golden flip-flops were beside the bed. I was vaguely baffled by the absence of a bulge in his crutch. Keeping my tee shirt on I dived in and swam lengths for half an hour, than floated on my back. The cool water felt wonderful on my body. When I'd had enough I swam to the steps and climbed out. Uncle Charles was watching me closely as I walked to his side and stood before him. "Karol, You really should wear a bra," He said. My hands flew to my chest in an effort to cover my breasts. I had forgotten that the wet tee shirt clung to my skin and exposed my shameful secret. I blushed hotly. "Don't be embarrassed," he said, "they are quite beautiful. But you should support them properly, otherwise they'll soon start to sag." "Oh, Uncle Charles, I am so embarrassed by them. They just keep growing. I try to keep them concealed by always wearing loose tops and baggy sweaters. Sometimes I even bind them with bandages in an effort to keep them hidden. I've even thought of having them surgically removed." "Oh, you mustn't do that. Be proud of them. There are many guys who'd give their eye teeth to have tits like yours." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well," he replied, "there are many men who feel they are really women but are trapped inside a male body. They go to extraordinary lengths to appear feminine. Even so far as to have silicon breasts implanted and their genitals removal. You should make the most of what nature has given you. Dress as a woman, act as a woman, be a woman. Then you won't have to hide them anymore. You are certainly pretty enough." "I don't know. It's a big step. A lot to think about." "Take off that wet tee shirt and I go and find one of Winifred's old bras and you can see how you feel with it on." He returned shortly with a peach lacy bra and handed it to me. He helped me put it on when he saw I didn't know how it fixed. I settled my breasts into the cups and adjusted the straps. It did feel nice to have them properly supported and the soft grip of the material made my nipple stand out. "Now doesn't that feel better? He asked. "Yes, I have to admit it is an improvement." "Here, put these on as well. They go together." He handed me the matching pair of panties. Without hesitation I turned my back to him, slid the bikini pants down my legs and pulled on the panties. They were the high cut style with a lace panel at the front and tiny pink roses. For the rest of the day we lounged by the pool. I soon found that wearing the bra and panties to be natural and comfortable. Uncle Charles said they helped my posture too. At around six o'clock we went inside to shower and change for dinner. After I'd showered I put the bra and panties on again under my shirt and jeans. It just seemed the normal thing to do. Uncle Charles looked stunning. He wore skin tight ski pant that hugged his thighs and clung to his bottom. I was again mystified by the lack of any bulge in the front. The fit was smooth and flat. His shirt was a maroon silk affair, with cloth buttons and a Peter Pan collar. The balloon sleeves were buttoned at the cuffs. On his feet he wore black pointy-toed shoes with a two-inch chunky heel. When I looked closely I saw that he'd applied mascara to his lashes and a trace of lipstick to his lips. He'd also sprayed himself liberally with perfume. After dinner we sat together with a bottle of wine and watched Fashion TV on the satellite channel. Uncle Charles kept up a constant dialogue on the various clothes on display. How beautiful this dress was, how wonderfully cut that one was. How this other one would look simply divine on me, and how he'd love to wear that one. By the end of the evening we were both rather tipsy. The top two buttons of Uncle Charles's blouse had somehow become undone and when he leaned over me to pour the remains of the wine into my glass, the front gaped open and I caught a tantalising glimpse of a deep cleavage pushed together by lacy bra cups. That night my sleep was troubled by visions of bronzed limbs and Uncle Charles's gaping blouse I awoke in the early hours in a pool of cum. I hadn't had a wet dream for a long while. Chapter IV The next day dawned bright and clear. The weatherman promised another scorcher. After breakfast I swam again, this time wearing the top half of the bikini as well. Two tiny triangles of material joined by two lengths of cord. One knotted in the middle of my back the other behind my neck. Later, as Uncle Charles and I lay on the sun beds he again broached the subject of crossdressing. "I don't know. I wouldn't know how to start. I've never worn women's clothes before," I protested, still a little doubtful that I wanted to do it. "That's not a problem. I could help you. I still have all of Winifred's clothes, There's bound to be something that'll fit you. You look to be about her size. What do you say? Come on it'll be fun," he urged. "I don't know," I hedged, "I'd be embarrassed dressed in girls clothes in front of you." "Don't be silly," he said, "I'll tell you what. If it will make you feel more comfortable I'll dress in something of hers as well." "Let me think about it, will you. This is a big step for me." "Ok," he said, "While you think about it I'll go and sort out something nice of Winnie's for you to wear. She had lots of stuff. Anything in particular you fancy? A dress? A skirt and blouse? " He blithely assumed that I would go along with the scheme. Today he wore a minuscule thong that exposed his buttocks and left his package prominently filling the front. He rose from the bed, slipped his feet into the gold sandals, then walked into the house taking little mincing steps, his naked buttocks rolling lewdly. I listened to the clip of his heels as he walked across the tiles. I lay for a while thinking about what I was going to do, afraid to admit to the mounting sense of excitement. Despite my feigned reluctance the thought of dressing in feminine clothing was greatly exciting me, and I knew then that I would do it. And after all I reasoned, who would know? Only Uncle Charles and he had offered to dress up as well, so he would keep quite about it. When I sat up my cock was painfully hard. I adjusted it so that the head stuck out of the top of my bikini Just then he came back to the pool where I still sat. "Thought about it yet?" he asked. "Yeah, Ok," I said, "it might be fun. But you have to promise to wear something as well." "Try and stop me." I stood, hoping he wouldn't notice my unruly member but he looked at my bulging crutch and smiled knowingly as I passed. I felt a blush rising onto my face. Entering his bedroom, a room I had rarely been in, I was astonished to see the quantity of clothing strewn about. Women's clothing covered the bed, hung from hangers, and spilled from drawers. Every sort of dress from day wear to eveningwear, from formal to casual. Skirts, blouses, slacks, cardigans, scarf, belts and hats were everywhere. In a huge pile on the bed was an assortment of underwear. Panties, bras, garter and suspender belts, basques, camisoles, slips and petticoats, all tossed carelessly about. I wasn't sure what many of the items were or how they were worn but I was soon to learn. "Come on now, and get your bikini off. I've selected a few things for you to try on." "I'm kind of shy Uncle Charles," I said. "No need to be, we're both men after all. I'll take my thong off as well so we'll both be the same. Ok?" Resigning myself to further blushes I pulled the strings and let my bikini top fall but hesitated to drop the bottom half, knowing I was still erect. Seeing me pause with my thumbs hooked in the waistband, he quickly divested himself of his thong. Now that he was naked I could delay no longer. I took a breath, and let them fall round my ankles. "My, my," he said, eyeing my twitching erection. "It seems that you are not so averse to a little crossdressing after all. You will have to learn to control yourself or you'll never make a convincing girl." "I'm sorry," I said trying to cover my hard-on with my hands. "I don't know why this is happening." "It's Ok," he said, "it's a perfectly natural reaction. I'm glad it excites you. Now let's get started. First your bra. Turn around, put your arms in the straps, and let me fasten it at the back." He continued to talk as he clipped the bra together and adjusted the straps on my shoulders. "This was one of Win's favourite bra and panty sets. She wore them the day we were married and only on special occasions after that. You have lovely little titties you know, just the right size for this bra." He settled the bra cups over my breasts till they filled them nicely, then gently pinched my nipples causing them to swell and stand out. Bending, he held the panties open for me to step into then pulled them up my legs. He carefully adjusted my cock so that the elastic waistband held the head against my stomach and there wasn't such an obvious bulge. "Perfect," he said. "They fit you perfectly and you look a picture." Next he pulled nylons up my legs and attached them to the tabs of a garter belt he'd fastened round my waist. The sensual feeling of sheer stockings encasing my legs and the tug of the garter tabs made my cock strain against the waistband of my panties. "Slip you feet into these and get used to high heels while I do your make-up." He pushed my feet into 3" heels and I instinctively put my knees and ankles together so that the soles were flat on the floor. I could feel the unaccustomed strain on my calves. It took about 15 minutes for him to transform my plain, but admittedly pretty face, into a thing of beauty with the expert use of rouge, mascara, eye shadow and lipstick. A few quick strokes with brush and comb, some bobby pins, and my hair was perfectly styled. A pair of clip on earrings and a necklace and I 'd been transformed into a beautiful young woman. "Stand up," he ordered. Holding a dress open I stepped into it, he worked it up over my hips, and bust then pulled the thin straps over my shoulders. He pulled up the zip at the back and pressed the stud together at the top. "There," he said. "What do you think?" I turned and started in wonder at the image reflected in the floor length mirror. I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth. I was looking at a beautiful young woman wearing the black cocktail dress that had hung in my wardrobe this morning. I could not believe what I was seeing. Only when the girl's hands smoothed down the front of the dress did I believe it was I. "Oh, Uncle Charles," I exclaimed, "I'm so beautiful. I never would have believed I could look so, so?" I was lost for words. "Yes you are beautiful. You quite take my breath away," he said in a hushed reverential tone. I looked at his naked body in the mirror and saw that he too was now fully erect. "Now why don't you go and take a stroll around the pool and practice walking in high heels, I have one or two little things to do before I get dressed." I took a last look at my reflection then wobbled out of the room and down the stairs. I soon got my balance and found that if I copied Uncle Charles's little mincing steps, putting one foot in front of the other, it was much easier to walk. I thrilled at the sensation of being fully dressed as a woman. The different textures and sounds made by the clothes excited me enormously. I longed to drop my panties, grasp my aching cock and masturbate to orgasm, but I restrained myself, instinctively knowing that it wouldn't be the right thing to do just now, as there was more excitement to come. I returned to Uncle Charles's bedroom just as he was leaving the bathroom. I gasped in shock when I beheld the naked man before me. His long hair was fashioned in a page boy style around his face, that was fully made up, eyes lined, cheeks rouged and lips painted. His body was smooth and totally free of hair. His huge prick hung between his legs atop his hairless balls. I must discover how he can conceal it so well, I thought. But the thing that really knocked me for six were the beautiful pair of breasts that swayed unsupported from his chest. He saw me staring opened mouthed at them. He raised his hands and cupped them. "Do you like them?" he asked. I nodded dumbly. "They're very realistic aren't they? They're the prosthetic breast forms Winnie bought after her mastectomies. They're the best on the market, made to such a high degree of realism as to be almost undetectable from the real thing." I shook my head in wonder as I started at the perfect pair of 36C breasts with prominent nipples riding high on his chest. "They stay on with special glue and can't be removed unless I use the antidote. Here feel them." I reached forward and took a breast in the palm of my hand. The skin was warm and soft to the touch. They had the resilience and weight of the real thing, and they bounced and swayed as he moved. I was surprised when I rubbed the nipple with the side of my thumb. It swelled into erection and Uncle Charles sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Did you feel that?" I asked. "Oh yes," he said. "There is a special electrode and some electronic jiggery -pokery that connects them to my own nipples and I feel the same sensations as if they were my own. Winifred insisted on it, as she loved having her breasts sucked and fondled and didn't want to be deprived of the sensation just because her tits had been removed." He walked to the bed and picked up a pure white satin basque. It was adorned with masses of lace on the underwired bra cups, down the front panel and round the hem. Handing it to me he said, "Now you must help me to dress." I stood behind him and passed the basque round his waist. He held it in position while I went to work on the hooks and eyes. When I had them all hooked up he said, "Now the lacing. Pull them as tight as you can. I have to loose three inches off my waist or I can't fit into my dress." I struggled to get them pulled together. It was a real effort for me, as I'm not the strongest. Eventually he was satisfied with his shape. He settled his phoney breasts into the cups in such a way that the nipples were visible over the front edge. "Stockings next." He ordered. I knelt at his feet, worked then on over his feet, and smoothed them up his incredibly long legs. As I fastened the tops of his stockings to his suspenders my face was only inches from his now rampant member. I could smell the musk from it and feel the heat. At that moment I had an urge to kiss it and would have done so had he not said, "My panties are on the bed." I fetched them, then knelt again so that he could put his feet into the leg holes. I drew them up and fitted the thong snugly between his bum cheeks. His penis protruded several inches above the waist and his balls filled the crutch to straining. He pushed his feet into shoes with 4" spikes then walked confidently to the closet to get his dress. It occurred to me that this was not the first time he had worn high heels, nor the first time he'd applied make up. If it were true that he was only dressing so that I should not feel uncomfortable, then he was the most natural transvestite in the world. He stepped into the dress, pulled it up over his hips, and held the bodice up to his bust. "Zip me up please, Carol," he said. I pulled the long zipper up his back and pressed the stud together between his shoulder blades. As I took care of the zip he worked elbow length opera gloves up his arms, then, pirouetting he asked, "Well what do you think? Am I not the belle of the ball or what?" "Uncle Charles," I breathed, "you look sensational." I saw that the dress he had chosen to wear was an almost exact copy of the one he had admired in Vogue magazine the other morning. "Carol, when I'm dressed like this you must call me Charlotte." He said. "It doesn't sound right that a femme-fatale should be called Uncle Charles does it? Now come here and give your auntie Charlotte a kiss." I stepped into his encircling arms. His lips pressed tenderly against mine and I tasted his lipstick. His tongue pressed gently against my lips then wormed its way into my mouth as I opened to receive it. Sensually and erotically his hot tongue flicked in and out of my mouth. I tried to suck it further in and wound my own around it. Slowly his tongue withdrew and mine eagerly followed it into his mouth where he sucked it deeply. Our lips mashed forcefully together smearing our lipstick. I could feel his lifelike warm breasts pressing against my own and my nipples hardened against his. His hard penis jabbed against my stomach. Eventually we broke apart. My head was reeling. I had never been kissed like this before. I had of course kissed a few girls but never with such passion or intensity. It had usually been a hurried, self-conscious peck. I had definitely never kissed a man before. I looked into his eyes not knowing what to say. "You kiss beautifully, Carol," he said. "Now lets go and find something to drink." His abrupt change brought me back to reality. He took my hand and we walked together down the stairs and into the kitchen. We spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting around talking and working our way through a bottle of wine. He instructed me on how to stand and sit properly always keeping my knees together. Which feminine mannerisms to adopt and practice. He coached me in the speech patterns and phrases used by girls. After four hours or so as we sat side by side on the couch, he said, "Carol, I have to say you are a natural girl. You instinctively know the correct way to act and the right things to say. You have a natural grace and poise that many women would die for." "Why, thank you Aunt Charlotte," I said. "Can I ask you a question?" "Certainly." "First let me say that you look pretty sensational yourself." He lowered his head slightly in acknowledgement of my compliment. "But I can't help noticing that you seem very familiar with the ways of women. You know how to apply make-up and the way to wear a dress. You know how to act and how to walk, and high heels don't seem bother you. You even know how to attach breast forms. This isn't the first time you've dressed up is it?" "How astute you are, Carol. No, it is not the first time I've worn a dress. I have been crossdressing since I was a boy. I started experimenting with my sister's clothes, then I'd wear my mothers. Pretty soon I was stealing underwear from neighbours washing lines till I was caught. I was threatened with prosecution, but I swore I'd never do it again. But like all transvestites the urge eventually returned and I started again. When I married Winifred she was very understanding and even indulged my desires. Half of the clothes in my bedroom are my own." "I'm gobsmacked," I said, "I've lived here all my life and I never knew, or even suspected. Ok, when I was little I wouldn't have noticed things so much, but since I've been at university and coming home regularly I still never had an inkling. I sometimes thought that some of the clothes you wore were a bit feminine but that it was just your style." "Your aunt and I went to great lengths to hide my secret from you. We felt that if you knew you might be influenced to follow my example. You were such a pretty child, and since your arrested development you are even more beautiful. We wanted to give you every chance to discover your own sexuality and desires. Now that you are old enough to make your own choices I wanted to let you experience how wonderful it is to dress and act as a woman. If you decide you don't want to do it again, well that's fine, but if you wish to dress again I do all I can to help you." "Oh, Uncle Charles," I sobbed, throwing my arms round his neck and kissing him. "You are so considerate and understanding. I do love you." As our kiss became more ardent I felt my cock rise to full erection and press flat against my stomach. Uncle Charles raised one leg slightly and dropped it over my knees. I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh. Our breathing became rapid and laboured as we passionately kissed and ground our lips against each other. I felt Uncle Charles's hand on my knee start to slide up under my dress. I involuntarily parted my legs to allow him easy access to my hot hard prick. Soon I felt his fingers pulling aside the leg of my panties and his hand slide in and grasp my penis. My breath caught in my throat and I almost came as his cool soft fingers encircled my throbbing organ. He gripped it tightly and pumped it up and down masturbating me. Sensing when my climax was about to burst, he pulled my skirt up, dropped his head to my lap and swallowed my exploding cock. My sperm pulsed from my twitching prick and flooded his mouth in a torrent. He continued to hold me in his mouth, rolling my cock round with his tongue till I relaxed, spent against the sofa. After several minutes my breathing and composure's returned to normal. I was slightly embarrassed and didn't quite know what I should do next. After all, this was the first time I had been dressed as a woman and masturbated to an explosive climax by my surrogate father! I was in uncharted waters with no point of reference. Chapter V The problem disappeared with the ringing of the telephone. Uncle Charles went to answer it and came back a short time later to announce that we were soon to have a visitor. "We must go and change," he said, "my friend Clare is on her way over for supper." I was very relieved to hear that we were to change. I wasn't yet ready to meet another person crossdressed, but I was to be disappointed. "Come with me," he said, "I have the perfect dress for you to wear this evening. Have a quick shower, then I'll help you with your make-up. Come on, hurry up, we don't have much time." He grabbed my hand, hustled me up the stairs, and pushed me into the bathroom. "Leave all the stuff you're wearing in the laundry basket then come into me. I'll have everything ready." "But Uncle Charles," I protested, "I can't meet anyone dressed as a girl, I'd be mortified." "Nonsense." He said, "Haven't you just said how you love to wear women's clothes and act as a girl?" I was pushed into the bathroom before I could say anything more. Ah. Well I reasoned, if I looked as convincing as he said it might be fun to deceive a stranger. I showered and powdered my body with lavender scented talc, then padded naked into his room. I was starting to feel quite relaxed being naked with him. He was also nude and it surprised me again to see his breasts. They were uncannily life-like with no sign of a join where they met his natural skin. "I've put stuff out for you over there," he pointed to a hanger with a crimson dress and a small pile of clothes. "Before you get dressed you will have to help me with my corset. I can't get the lacing tight enough on my own." He passed his arms through the shoulder straps and folded the corset round his middle. I went behind and threaded the cord through the parallel row of holes that ran the length of the back. Pulling on the laces as hard as I could and with my knee in the small of his back I finally closed it up to his satisfaction. It held him quite rigid and gave him the hourglass figure he desired. The whale bone stays were covered with silky black satin and the whole was adorned with lacy frills and little bows. It looked very sexy and I felt a sudden pang of envy that he was wearing such an exciting thing. My own outfit consisted of a matched silk and lace bra, panties, and garter belt set in a devastating scarlet. Dark tan stockings, a half slip also in red with a scalloped lacy hem, white sandals with 3" heels and a figure hugging slip dress with a pencil slim skirt. I managed to don the underwear myself without too much trouble, but there was no way that I could close the zip on the back of the dress. "You'll have to help me with my zip, Uncle Charles. The dress is a bit too tight." "Breathe in," he said. He held the two sides together with one hand and quickly pulled the zip to the top. When I released my breath the dress seemed to squeeze in all round and hold me in a tight grip. Fortunately the skirt had a 6" slit at the back without which, I feared, I shouldn't be able to walk. I helped Uncle Charles with the zip of his dress. He'd chosen a knee length midnight blue gown with a tight waist and bodice, short puffed sleeves and a flared skirt. He wore several layers of taffeta petticoats under it, which had the effect of a crinoline. The plunging heart-shaped neckline revealed a good portion of his upper breasts. He wore a velvet choker round his throat and a necklace with a single large stone that nestled in his cleavage. Make-up completed, earrings and bracelets on, a generous squirt of Chanell No 5 and we were ready. I was getting a little bit nervous as we waited, but Uncle Charles reassured me that it was impossible to tell I was a boy. He reminded me to call him Charlotte. As he sat back into the low sofa the taffeta underskirts of his dress flew up into his face. Before he could push them down I clearly saw that he wore no panties and his genitals were naked and exposed. He obviously wasn't too perturbed about being discovered as a man. Uncle Charles had just uncorked a bottle of Australian Shiraz when I heard a car horn blare and the screech of brakes. A few moments later the door burst open and in walked the woman I had seen with Uncle Charles the day I'd arrived. "Hi sweetie," she called as she marched into the living room where I sat. "Oh hello, you must be Carol." She walked over as I got up and kissed me on both my cheeks. "I'm Clare," she said. "It's lovely to meet you. You are quite as beautiful as Charlotte said you were." Just then Uncle Charles arrived carrying the bottle and glasses. "Hi darling, I see you've met my daughter." He said, somewhat to my chagrin. "Isn't she as gorgeous as I said?" He walked over to her and kissed her on the lips. He poured the wine and handed it round and we chatted easily while we drank. It was clear the Clare and Uncle Charles were old and close friends. As they talked there was a constant exchange of intimate touches and caresses. I was fascinated to watch the interplay between them. Clare was obviously not in the least fazed by Uncle Charles's transvestism, much as I suppose Aunt Winifred hadn't been. In fact she seemed to delight in it by admiring his dress and shoes, saying what a super figure he had and how nice his hair looked. They chatted away in this vein discussing all the feminine trivia two women do when together. I sat and listened, intrigued by their performance. After supper we drank more wine and I was beginning to feel a little drunk. It was getting dark so instead of switching on lights Uncle Charles lit some scented candles and placed them round the room. He loaded the stereo with easy listening music and we sat and talked. When Uncle Charles excused himself to go to the bathroom, Clare asked me if I'd like to dance. With the bravado of the drink and the relaxed atmosphere I gladly accepted. There was a moment of uncertainty at the start as neither of us was sure who should lead till Clare took charge and waltzed me backward round the room. This was another new experience for me to dance the female role and be held in the surprisingly strong arms of this woman. Clare's hand gently forced my head against her bosom and I was happy to rest it on her soft warm front. My hands were on her back and I traced the line of her bra strap through the fine material of her dress. She gave a little shudder of pleasure. I was acutely conscious of the delicious feel of my silky lingerie and the soft silk of my dress sliding about my body. She hummed quietly in my ear as we smooched and I felt my cock begin to stir and swell as I luxuriated in her intimate embrace. As we turned her thigh was pushed between my legs and my now hard cock pressed against it. I instinctively pushed my hips forward pressing myself harder against her. Her right hand dropped from my shoulder to my bottom and applied just enough pressure to let me know she knew I was hard. She held me closer as I tried to pull away and whispered, "It's all right, don't fight it. I'm flattered that you find me desirable. I think you're very sexy too." She placed both her hands on my buttocks and squeezed them gently them rubbed in circles feeling my panties and suspenders through my dress. She again pressed lightly and pushed her thigh against my erection. I started to slowly fuck her thigh then suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be a girl and therefore should not have a hard cock pressed against her leg. In near panic, I tried to disengage from her embrace but she held me tightly. "Relax," she breathed, "it's perfectly Ok. I know what you are and I don't mind. Your mummy told me." She giggled. "Or should I say your daddy." "It's neither," I said a bit sniffily, "he's my uncle." "Whatever. We're all friends, let's just go with the flow and see what happens. There might be other surprises yet," she said mysteriously. Uncle Charles had returned and asked if he might cut in. "Of course," said Clare. I turned to sit down but Uncle Charles's took me in his arms and began dancing. I was completely nonplussed, as I had naturally assumed he wanted to dance with Clare. She left the room for a few minutes while we danced. When she returned, Uncle Charles asked, "Do you like her?" His hand slipped between us and squeezed my cock that was tenting the front of my dress. "Oh, I see that you do. She's a very surprising woman, believe me." We danced some more, then I sat and watched as Uncle Charles and Clare smooched around in each other's arms, whispering confidentially. I found the sight of two beautiful women kissing passionately as they danced and grinding their crutches together extremely erotic and exciting. My cock ached and I unconsciously rubbed the front of my dress as I lay back on the sofa watching. The wine had sufficiently loosened my inhibitions so that I no longer made any effort to hide the prominent protuberance in my dress front. At the end of their dance, Uncle Charles stood in front of me and held his hand for me to take. He pulled me to my feet, took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. As I stood I noticed that he had removed his taffeta underskirts and that his weapon thrust out the front of his loose skirt. I felt it pressing hard against my own and I groaned into his mouth. Clare came behind me, pressed her body against my back, and kissed my neck and ears. She ran her hands up and down my sides then slowly drew down the zip in the back of my dress. She pushed it off my shoulder and it fell to my ankles. Her kisses slowly travelled down my back, her warm hands making small circles on my bare skin. She took my bra strap in her teeth and snapped it as her mouth passed it. As she stooped to her knees she drew my slip and panties down my legs. I felt the cool air wafting round my thighs, my bottom and my hot cock. Kneeling behind me she lifted each foot in turn and removed my dress, slip and panties in one movement. Her hands returned to my buttocks and gently caressed and squeezed them raining kissed over both my cheeks. Uncle Charles put his hands on my shoulders and pushed down. As I sank to my hands and knees he lay back on the sofa pulling up his skirt as he did so exposing his rampant weapon. I instinctively knew what I had to do. Reaching forward with both hands I cupped his heavy balls in one and the bottom of his shaft with the other. Leaning forward I kissed the swollen purple head, opened my lips and for the first time in my life felt an erect male penis slide into mouth. I thrilled at the heat and hardness of his cock as I rolled my tongue round the head. Opening my throat I discovered I was able to swallow his entire length. Moving my head up and down I worked his prick in and out of my eager mouth. So enraptured was I with giving my first blow job that I had temporarily forgotten about Clare, but now I became aware of her tongue making circles round my anus and her hot breath in my crack. Her thumbs pulled apart my arse cheeks exposing my virgin hole. Stiffening her tongue I felt it enter me and push in as far as she could reach. I was overwhelmed by this new sensation and pushed back towards her eager for more. I was disappointed when I felt it leave my hole but then felt something cold being pushed into me followed by her long nailed finger, then a second. She finger fucked me for a while until my sphincter was thoroughly relaxed and I was completely open. Then I felt something hard and blunt nudge against my little rosebud hole. Oh, no, I thought in alarm, she's going to use a dildo on me. Accepting the inevitable I relaxed again and pushed slightly backward indicating I was ready. She steadily increased the pressure against my hole till it gave way and the head of the dildo entered. She paused for a few seconds allowing me to adjust to the huge intrusion, then let her weight fall forward impaling me on 7" of rigid rubber. I gasped in shock involuntarily realising Uncle Charles's cock from my mouth. He took my head between his hands, thrust it back it, and bucked his hips fucking my face. The thrill of being invaded from both ends simultaneously was almost too much for me and I nearly came. Clare had begun to thrust into my rectum with long slow strokes, penetrating to the hilt and I felt the dildo's balls hitting my own. We synchronised our movements so that as Clare plunged into my virgin anal pussy, Uncle Charles's cock slid into my throat and as she withdrew so also did his. For several minutes we kept up this sexual rhythm gradually increasing the tempo. My jaw ached and my arse was sore but I didn't want it to stop. This was the most intense and sensual experience I'd ever had. Despite all their best efforts they were unable to delay their climax's any longer. Uncle Charles let out a roar and erupted into my mouth. Huge quantities of semen filled my mouth and I swallowed frantically, not wanting to loose any, but a trickle escaped my suctioning lips and dribbled down my chin. Clare squealed and rammed into me. Grasping my hips she forced herself into me to the very limit. I felt squirts of hot liquid filling my bowel as she collapsed onto my back. As both my orifices were being filled with their love juice my own cock exploded in a soaring ejaculation that surpassed any previous orgasm I'd had. Clare's dildo slipped from my anus and she slumped onto the sofa beside Uncle Charles. His wilting member slid from my mouth and he sighed hugely with satisfaction. I remained on my knees with my head on Uncle Charles lap and looked up at them both with a dreamy expression on my face. They were both sweaty, their hair and clothes in disarray. They relaxed with the heads back and eyes closed waiting for their breathing and pulse rates to return to normal. I felt liquid seeping from my anus and looked down at Clare's crutch, curious to see what she had used to fuck me. I was flabbergasted to see a beautiful fat penis, shiny with love juice, with a bead of sperm seeping from the eye, lying in limp repose across her thigh. So it hadn't been a dildo after all but her natural organ. I looked up at her face and met her eyes. She smiled at me. "Surprised?" she asked. I could only nod in affirmative. "I told you she was a surprising woman, didn't I?" Uncle Charles said. A little nagging thought that had been in the back of my mind now suddenly made sense. The whole episode had been too well stage-managed to be a spontaneous event. Uncle Charles and Clare had obviously set the whole thing up to in order to seduce me and take my virginity at the same time. And to satisfy their own carnal needs of course. But I bore them no ill feelings. "I'm starving," Clare announced. "Sex always make me hungry. Lets get something to eat." Chapter VI Later that night after we'd eaten and showered, we dressed in fine sheer silk night-gowns and went to Uncle Charles's bed. I lay between them, and as we talked their hands stroked and caressed me. It had taken Clare three years, I learned, to achieve the state of beauty and grace she now possessed. Three years of physical pain, dedication, determination and huge expense. The costs didn't bother her as she was very wealthy, but she sometimes doubted whether she had the fortitude to endure the pain of constant surgery or had the determination to see it through. During this period she had been transformed from a handsome man of 5'10" and 160 lbs., into an extremely attractive female. Her nose had been reshaped and thinned. Her lower jawbone had been chiselled to an attractive point, and she'd also had her brow bone shaved to raise and lighten it. She'd had her larynx tightened to raise the pitch of her voice and at the same time her Adam's apple had been reduced. She'd had three breast implants, each a successively larger size till she now measured 38C. Liposuction, together with the removal of her lower ribs had reduced the size of her waist to 22 inches. A course of laser electrolysis had destroyed her beard and chest hair and regular waxing and depilatories took care of any remaining body hair. Exercise and diet had firmed and moulded her thighs and buttocks and reduced her weight to 120lbs. Cosmetics and beauty treatments had seen to the rest. There was a curious paradox though. The more beautiful and womanly she became the more reluctant she was to take the final step. To undergo the ultimate procedure that would turn her into a complete woman and dispense with the last remnants of her manhood. It was as though the masculine part of her brain desired the woman, and her feminine persona needed the man. Her brain harboured two separate identities that each yearned for the other. She was in fact, in love with herself. Uncle Charles and Clare had met through an Internet chat room devoted to transvestites and men who love to crossdress. After weeks of conversations they were delighted to discover that they were almost neighbours. They had eventually met in the cocktail bar of a large hotel and very quickly fell in love. During the night we engaged to two more m?nage ? trois. I fucked Clare and Uncle Charles fucked me. And everybody sucked everybody. We lay in a triangle, my mouth on Clare's cock, hers on Uncle Charles's and his sucking mine till we all came together. We slept late the next morning then lazed by the pool. We swam and sunbathed, not bothering with clothes. Now that we were all familiar with each other's bodies it was exciting to cavort naked in the sunshine. What were we? I wondered, beautiful women with penis', or men with beautiful breasts? Clare had to leave that evening but before she left I had sat astride her prone body as she lay on the sun bed and fucked myself on her wonderful cock. We kissed deeply and crushed our breasts together as we writhed in ecstasy. Uncle Charles lay besides us masturbating as he watched our performance. The remainder of the week flew by in a whirl of femininity and sex, and all too soon I had to return to university. I reluctantly dressed in my rough jeans and sweatshirt and wa