Darlene's Wedding
By Ricky
Don...
Ah the lunchroom. The camaraderie, the pleasant
conversation, the sophisticated repartee, the ever present
smell of cutting fluid and hot metal that pervades any
machine shop. And don't forget the misogyny, profanity,
and homophobia.
Really, it's not that bad, at least I don't have to put up
with the smokers since the county banned smoking indoors.
Actually, I kind of like the ambience of the lunchroom most
of the time. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those
times. About halfway through the lunch break, Cliff
spotted an item about how gays can now be legally married
in Canada and he was holding forth with a loud, incoherent,
full throttle diatribe.
Now most days I would have tuned him out. Cliff is an
asshole, but even assholes can be good machinists. The
latest problem I had been having with Cliff was getting him
to accept the new technology the company was adopting for
controlling the big machines. I sometimes think it takes
an act of the very God Cliff was invoking to convince him
that hitting a part with a hammer was preferable to beating
on it with his thick skull. Whenever anything changed, his
comments usually started with "If God had intended men to..."
I had spent most of the morning converting his machine to
the new programming language the company had adopted, and
it hadn't been easy. Sometimes I wish I had remained a
simple machinist and let someone else have the headaches,
but I got along very well with computers and had gradually
become the "NC maven" for the company. That's Numerical
Control for those of you who care; that's what the
computers that run most fabricating machines are called.
So I had spent the last few hours listening to Cliff bitch
while I worked on his machine, which makes concentration
difficult. My digestion wasn't the best as a result, so
when Cliff kept running at the mouth something snapped.
"Jesus, Cliff. What's so fucking bad about having two
brides at a wedding? You afraid one of 'em might throw the
bouquet at you and you'd have to make an honest woman out
of some poor gal? Or would it be an honest man?"
"You can take that bunch of posies and stuff it up your
goddam ass, Don. I ain't going to have nothing to do with
any fucking fairies who want to...." He was off and running
again.
"Christ, Cliff. If you're going to treat those flowers
like that, then I just won't ask you to be my maid of honor
when I marry Jenny. I'm disappointed; you would have
looked so luscious in lavender."
That got the group going and Cliff had a hard time getting
a word in edgewise. I have to admit I was taking a chance,
but I was still annoyed enough with Cliff that I couldn't
resist. One of the best parts of being a crossdresser is
when you can say something perfectly outrageous and
perfectly true but no one will believe it.
"Hey Don! Can I be the flower girl?"
That was Jimmy, he's about 5'2 and wouldn't outweigh a bag
of cement soaking wet. Rather than get defensive about his
small stature he makes it into a joke. Actually, he would
look pretty cute in one of those frilly white outfits a
flower girl would wear. Jimmy and I were pretty good
friends at work, but the friendship didn't really leave the
plant. If he was one of my "sisters," he had never given
so much as a hint.
"Sure Jimmy. You any good at flinging rose petals?"
"He's only good for flinging shit. Just like you, Don."
Cliff has a hard time appreciating a joke.
"Jeez, Cliff," chimed in Sammy. "What's it to you if Don
wants to get married in a dress? What's got your tits in a
wringer?" Sammy is often the "voice of reason" but his
tone this time was calculated to keep Cliff going. "Some
people like to dress up a bit when they get out of this
place with all the oil and crud. Something with a plunging
neckline and a long train would be very flattering for you,
Don." His face was absolutely straight as he spoke.
"You know, I was really thinking of a Victorian collar and
lots of lace. Nice, long puffy sleeves to hide my tattoos,
and a bustle. Nobody wears bustles any more and I want to
revive the old fashion trend. I bet I could program the
new system to make a really fancy bustle, the thing is
really flexible. Would you make me a bustle for my wedding
dress, Cliff? Please?"
"If he won't I will!"
"Ya know, if we punch a lot of really little holes in that
new plastic stock we could make a great veil for your
dress, Don."
If it's gonna be Victorian, you're gonna need a corset. We
got enough spring steel that we could supply you with the
best!"
"What would you know from corsets, Charlie?"
"I know they're damn hard to get off but it's a lot of fun
trying. Kinda like opening a birthday present."
"You don't want no birthday present, you want her birthday
suit!"
"So this is a problem?"
The guys were really getting into this, and with each
suggestion poor Cliff's face suffused with a deeper shade
of red. He was approaching indigo when he couldn't take
any more.
"What are you, all a bunch of fucking faggot assholes? It
ain't goddam natural, you fucking well know he ain't gonna
fucking walk down the aisle in no goddam dress!"
"So who's going to stop me if I want to?"
"You think this is funny - don't you, asshole? That broad
of yours would kick your sorry butt out of her life the
moment you pulled shit like that."
"You wrong my beloved, Cliff. Jenny has very good fashion
sense. I never buy a dress without consulting her. She
tells me she's found me a wedding dress that suits my
natural aura and innate vibrations."
I flatter myself that I do a pretty good Valley Girl
impression. The rest of the guys must have thought it was
good enough, because they were practically rolling on the
floor. I really had Cliff going!
"Jesus, a fucking New Age fucking fairy. Alright, asshole.
I got five big ones says there's no way you got the nerve.
You and your fucking aura are gonna wear a tuxedo like any
man when you get married."
It was at that moment when a sense of complete peace
enveloped my mind and body. Ever since my mother remarried
I had been debating with myself about a two bride ceremony
with Jenny. Jenny was amenable, as were my mother and
sister. For that matter, both of our families knew of my
crossdressing. Jenny's dad had been hard to convince at
first, and maybe it would take a concerted diplomatic
effort to convince him we should both wear dresses, but
after all, I was marrying a woman who made her living
negotiating difficult issues.
The problem was I still had a fair number of friends who
had no inkling of Darlene's existence, and I wasn't quite
ready to go that public. This was doubly true for the guys
I worked with. Trade workers don't tend to liberal
attitudes and unquestioning acceptance of alternate
lifestyles, an understatement if there ever was one. Now,
courtesy of the Canadian court system, I had been handed my
deepest desire with the perfect cover story, and it was the
biggest homophobe of the bunch that was pressing the idea.
"Okay Clifford, you old dog, you're on. Your generous
contribution to our honeymoon will be greatly appreciated.
I nominate Jimmy to hold the stakes and all of you are
invited to the wedding to judge the winner. If Jenny
hasn't kicked my sorry butt by the time our first dance is
over then I win."
"Done, asshole. I'll have my stake tomorrow morning."
"Want to sweeten the deal, Cliffie baby?" He hates to be
called Cliffie. "If I get your machine done by two o'clock
this afternoon, you have to dance with me as soon as I
finish that first dance with Jenny. If I lose, you get to
dance with Jenny." I somehow forgot to tell him I had
already finished the job and just had to button up the last
loose ends.
"You just better hope she won't kick your sorry butt after
she dances with me. This may be the shortest marriage in
history, buddy."
The bell started ringing just at that point, before either
one of us could get ourselves in any deeper. Sometimes
blind, mechanical rules and regulations are a blessing.
Jenny...
"Kewel! Utterly kewel!"
There's nothing like the enthusiasm of a teenager, and in
this case the teenager was my niece Kathy. The enthusiasm
was for the house Don and I had bought. After years of
apartment living, with the last few months sharing a place,
we decided to buy a house together. Trying to fit two
makeup tables and three wardrobes into a standard apartment
bedroom just wasn't practical.
I know, the conventional wisdom is to fall in love, get
married, buy a house, and then spend your time in the
bedroom together, but we started with the bedroom, had
worked our way around to the house, and figured the getting
married part could wait until summer, since I wanted nice
weather for the wedding. As for the love part, it just
sort of happened somewhere along the way.
We had found a lovely old home in the city, the beautiful
woodwork still unpainted and intact. The electrical and
plumbing had been modernized, and with a little work
(according to Don, anyway) we could merge two of the
bedrooms into one huge master bedroom with closets big
enough for me, Don, and Darlene. Somehow I wouldn't
consider removing walls and adding a private bathroom to be
a 'little' work, but Don assured me that in a couple of
weeks he could have it done. My intended was brimming with
macho energy to make room for his feminine side. Go
figure.
Kathy stopped her impromptu dance as a great crash sounded
from above our heads and little bits of dust showered from
the ceiling. This was followed by a muffled martial arts
yell of "Hai-yah!" and another crash, this one accompanied
by many small subsidiary cracks and plops.
"Sounds like Uncle Don is practicing his karate upstairs,
Aunt Jenny."
"Probably ramming his thick skull through the plaster to
prove he still has testosterone in his bloodstream when he
isn't wearing a dress." I headed for the stairs, a
beautiful creation of rods and balls holding up a stair
rail that simply invited you to slide down its polished
length. "Grab your shovel, kid. We get to clean up the
mess."
I winced at the pile of plaster on the polished wood of the
floors, but was relieved to see it was covered with a layer
of protective plastic. The dividing wall between the two
bedrooms had been denuded of its plaster, exposing the
wooden lath beneath. As we entered, Don swung a huge
crowbar and ripped off a section of lath, creating yet more
dust in the room. As the wood crackled and split, he
noticed us and laid the bar against the wall.
He looked like an alien for some movie, with a bulbous nose
protruding between the filters of his dust mask. His heavy
breathing through the mask brought Darth Vader to mind. At
the moment I was having a hard time picturing this person
as the handsome woman I knew Darlene to be, but I suppose
if anyone was looking at me at the moment they would have
had similar thoughts. Today I was the one doing the
crossdressing. Ragged jeans, faded oversized work shirt,
thick gloves, and heavy boots were not my usual go-to-
meeting clothes, but I had been warned about the mess of
construction.
"Hi, Uncle Don! Can I beat on the walls, too? Looks like
fun."
Handing her the crowbar, he said, "Go to it, Kathy.
There's no more destructive force in this world than a
teenager."
I suspect she stuck out her tongue at him, but since we had
both prudently donned air masks before entering, I couldn't
be sure. While Kathy struck a blow for teenagers
everywhere, we hugged awkwardly. Hard to kiss in a mask,
for sure.
Despite her enthusiasm, it was clear that Don's experience
and larger body was better suited to the job. After a few
minutes, she returned the crowbar and we started shoveling
debris out the window and into the dumpster below. I was
glad of the gloves because the ancient wood lath was rife
with splinters. Kathy and I escaped with only a few minor
pokes, but poor Don tripped and went down on his butt. He
winced as he plucked the offending chunk of wood from his
behind. By the time lunchtime rolled around, I had a new
appreciation for the construction workers I have spent my
life trying to organize. This was hard, sweaty,
uncomfortable work to be sure, but there was a certain
satisfaction in watching the wall disappear.
I had to laugh whenever my intended bent over, because the
red frills of his panties peeked out from his rough work
clothing. By that time, I was wishing I could dispense
with my bra, because the sweat had thoroughly soaked it,
and each time I moved I felt it's clammy embrace on my
breasts. The occasional cool breeze from the open window
was most welcome. This was one of the times I questioned
Don's sanity for wanting to wear a bra when he didn't
actually need to.
As I tossed the last piece of wood out the window I was
beginning to see how our bedroom would look when it was
finished. In one corner of the suddenly larger room the
shower, sink, and toilet looked out of place. The new
bathroom walls were not yet erected, but I could picture
the finished product more clearly now.
After lunch I gained a much greater appreciation of
construction work. Tearing things down is easy, putting
them up is a lot harder. With Don patiently advising us,
Kathy and I helped to build the new walls. I realize that
Don could probably have done the work in a fraction of the
time it took Kathy and me (certainly with a fraction of the
mistakes!), but I was determined to help with turning our
new house into a home.
At three PM, the framing was done and we quit for the day;
we had an appointment at the bridal shop. We, as in both
of us, and we were not going to be very welcome there in
our current dusty condition. Don had called it the oldest
joke in the crossdresser's lexicon, having to wear a dress
because of a bet, but I didn't care. My wonderful mate
would be able to realize the dream that meant so much to
him, and that was a very good way to start off a marriage.
Don...
On the way back home, I couldn't help but notice the
stabbing pain in my backside; it was impossible to sit
comfortably in the car. By the time we got home, there was
no help for it. I had to ask Jenny to take a look because
there was no way I could remove them myself. So with red
face I made my request, gingerly removing my panties and
assuming a most undignified position over the side of our
bed, butt high in the air.
She pulled the offending pieces of wood from my rear and
then cursed, "Damn, there's still some in there!"
Just what I wanted to hear. With a chuckle she said, "I
hope you're into S&M, because I'm going to have to take a
needle to your tush." I lay there waiting and heard the
refrigerator door open, Jenny getting some ice from the
kitchen. She numbed my buttocks with the ice and started
her surgery, which I will not describe.
It was soon over and I could feel the now warm water
dripping down my ass and balls from the melted ice cube. I
rested there a moment longer and felt a pair of warm lips
kiss my cold and bruised bottom and, with a low and sexy
voice, Jenny promised to make it all better. I lay there
dazed as she covered my rear with kisses. Soon her fingers
were caressing my scrotum as it hung down the side of the
bed, nails lightly running over my dangling sack. My cock
began to harden as she kissed my ass with abandon, but I
was stopped by the unyielding mattress I was slung over.
Soon her fingers began to trace their way up the crack of
my ass, slowly working deeper into my back door as she
continued to kiss my wounded buttocks passionately. As her
finger strayed over my asshole, I began to moan, and she
started to talk to me as she played with my body.
"You like that, don't you?" she purred. "You like me
kissing your butt, you like my finger on your ass, don't
you?" I moaned with pleasure and just wiggled my ass in
the air. Reaching into the bedstead, she pulled out a tube
of lubricant and began to grease my asshole.
She started slowly and gently, sliding just the tip of her
finger in. I could feel my sphincter parting, feel the
warmth penetrate me and then slide out. With each stroke
she drove deeper into my back door, driving my swollen
prick against the bedclothes. Soon her finger was buried
in my ass and I could feel her wiggling it deep in my body.
I was in heaven; she was still covering my butt with kisses
as she finger fucked my ass. I soon became looser and she
began to purr and asked me, "Do you like that? Do you want
more?"
I did, but all I could do was grunt something that sounded
like "yes!" Suddenly I felt an intense sensation on my
balls as she ran one of the ice cubes down my dangling
sack. Soon she was sliding the ice all over my ass,
following the cold trail with her warm lips. The contrast
was incredible and I couldn't believe how good it felt.
As the now much shrunken ice cube passed over my asshole
she slid it in, quickly followed by a butt plug. Spreading
my cheeks, she began to slowly insert it up my rectum, and
I felt my iced ass being stretched again. As she slowly
slid it deeper into me, I could feel the ice cube move
deeper into my body. She began to play with my balls
again, tickling and teasing as my ass was filled with
delight. With a shock, the plug slid home and she began to
wiggle the protruding end as she continued to play with my
balls. Glory, what a feeling.
Suddenly she stood and climbed over my shoulders onto the
bed. Spreading her legs, she wiggled her steaming crotch
toward me as I lay there. I could feel the plug in my ass
as I lifted my head, covering her waiting slit with my
tongue. She was dripping wet and ready for release, but I
worked slowly, blowing through her curly cunt hair, lightly
brushing her sex but not penetrating that steaming bush.
Not yet. I kissed her thighs, teased with my tongue around
her bush, and at last began to work my way through the
tangle of hair to her womanhood. My tongue slid freely
over her pussy lips, I could feel the folds of her willing
flesh as I drew my tongue up and down her slit. Each time
I caressed her clit I heard her draw in her breath. I
could feel the wetness drip from her snatch, smell the
musky sent of a woman in heat and taste the juices that
were flowing copiously from her pussy. With each movement,
I felt the plug in my ass move, and it drove me into a
frenzy.
By now she was pumping her crotch into my face, crying out
with incoherent pleasure as I ate her clit and sucked
deeply on her slit. With a scream, I felt her rise in
orgasm, and we held that position for a few moments until
Jenny pulled me forward and spun me around. She leaped on
my poor neglected prick and began to ride up and down like
a cowgirl. I could see her lovely tits bounce high into
the air as she impaled herself on my manhood and felt her
juices pour over my crotch. I didn't have to do anything,
I just lay there and let this madwoman drive my cock deep
into her, listening to her moan and cry with pleasure. I
soon felt my balls tighten and began to pump my cum into
her as she kept bouncing on my pole. My cries brought her
over the edge once more; as I felt my prick begin to shrink
within her she came just in time, twisting her ass into my
crotch, grabbing my body for support as her orgasm flooded
over her.
Much as I would have loved to lay there for the next few
hours, we had an appointment to keep, and I suspected the
shop owner would not appreciate it if we arrived covered in
old house dirt with channels of our love juices streaking
it.
"Up, my love. Rise and attend to your bath so that we may
away!"
"Sounds Shakespearean, darling, and I do enjoy how you
shake your spear. Give me a few minutes and I'll think of
a good quote, right now I'm a little distracted."
"Good, that means I can go first."
I gently disengaged her from me and attended to my bath.
Jenny...
I let Don go first, after all it takes him more time to
make himself beautiful than most ordinary women. The
strains of "Camelot" rose above the hot water as my beloved
sluiced the dirt off his body, to be replaced by a hummed
version of the Wedding March as he shaved while I showered.
By the time I got to the bedroom he was wearing white
panties and was applying surgical tape across his chest.
"I still wince every time you do that. It's got to be
terrible when you take it off!"
"One does not become beautiful without sacrifice, my dear.
A proper bride must show just enough cleavage to make those
watching her walk down the aisle have a lascivious thought
or two." Patting the tape down, he settled a plain white
bra into place. "I'll snap you if you snap me."
"Darn, I should have brought the towel with me!" I did up
the hooks on his bra. "My, but you're colorless today, how
unusual."
"A bride is properly assumed to be virginal despite any
evidence to the contrary. I am honoring tradition by
vesting myself in virginal white for my fitting today."
"Where's my mask? The air's getting a little thick in
here, don't you think?"
"It's traditional for the bride to wear a veil on her face,
not a mask. However, if our beloved Department of Homeland
Security raises the alert above Orange you may wear a gas
mask during the ceremony if you wish."
"Does that mean we need to have a bomb detector at the door
of the church? I'm not sure God would approve."
"God won't object. However the minister...."
"I think taxing her liberal nature with a two bride
ceremony is sufficient."
"Perhaps you're right. In any case, I shall wear a demure,
but lacy, white brassiere when we tie the knot. Can we get
a discount if we buy two of everything?"
"Not if we're late for the fitting. Quit talking and put
your falsies in while I get dressed."
"Yes ma'am! Will you be this bossy when we're married?"
"Certainly. Someone has to be the man in this
relationship. Ouch! That wasn't very ladylike!"
"I thought you were taking the man's role. Not tough
enough to take a pinch on the ass?"
"Enough, I surrender. I really like that dress on you.
"Thank you, I rather favor it myself. A lovely lady of my
acquaintance gave it to me. I thought Cliff would burst a
gusset when I told him you pick out my dresses for me."
"I never thought I'd approve of anything Cliff did, but
since he finally convinced you to live your dream I have to
thank him."
"Wait until he has to dance with me at the reception before
you do. I wouldn't want to scare him off. Shall we go?"
"We shall, just as soon as I have shoes on my feet."
DARLENE'S PETITION TO DON'S BRAIN
WHEREAS you have been a crossdresser for many years and;
WHEREAS you routinely appear in public without being read
and;
WHEREAS you customarily enter women's dressing rooms to try
on new dresses without problems and;
WHEREAS your sister Bernice told you that Sandy's bridal
shop was the soul of discretion when she bought a wedding
dress and;
WHEREAS Bernice is 6'3 and weighs 300 pounds and;
WHEREAS the woman you love approves of what you're doing
BE IT THEREFORE RESOLVED: You will not choke, freeze,
suffer shortness of breath, lose your feminine voice or
otherwise panic when you look for your own wedding dress.
Don...
I parked the car in front of the big glass window, the one
that contained a mannequin in a lovely, full wedding gown,
complete with bouquet. I turned off the motor, swung my
legs from the car in a ladylike manner, and waited for
Jenny to meet me in front of the car. I walked to the
door, refrained at the last second from opening it for her
as a gentleman would and entered the store. A small woman
with a big head of hair glanced at us and a perky smile lit
her face.
Then I panicked.
"- - - - - ," I said.
"May I help you ladies?" she asked.
"- - - - - , " I repeated.
"We have an appointment to look at dresses." Jenny to the
rescue.
"Of course. You must be Jenny and Darlene. Please, have a
seat and let's see what we can do." She waved at a table
with several chairs around it. By the time we had seated
ourselves and I had stirred some cream in my coffee, the
panic had passed, to be replaced by a growing excitement.
"Now," she continued, "I understand this will be a two
bride ceremony." We both agreed. "Then let's start with
the basics. Do you both want to have the same style of
gown or will you be wanting something individual?"
"I'm not sure," answered Jenny. "It would be kind of fun
to match, but we have such different body types; I'm not
sure we could find one style that flatters us both."
"I think that would be a wise choice, dear. We can tie
elements of each dress together, but still provide an
individual look for each of you. I would suggest a ball
gown silhouette, since it will flatter both of you. A
nice, full skirt will help minimize the height difference
between you. Darlene, I'm afraid I need to get rather
personal with you. Do you use attachable breast forms or
will you need a full brassiere?"
Funny how she had no doubt which one was the male in
sheep's clothing.
"I've been thinking about getting an attachable pair, but
under the circumstances, I think I should be wearing a
conventional bra. I think a more matronly look is
preferable to sexy. Sometimes it's fun to show a little
cleavage, but it is rather constricting and I would rather
not have that distraction when we get married."
"I think I see. May I complement you on your appearance?
Your outfit is quite suitable for your age and body type.
I don't think I would have guessed you are a man if I had
passed you on the street. You certainly don't look
'matronly' to my eye.
"Thank you."
"You've anticipated my Bride 101 lecture, Darlene. You're
going to be wearing your gown for a considerable length of
time, dancing in it, socializing in it, and trying not to
spoil it in a madhouse of food and drink. I want you to
think very seriously about comfort. I have heard too many
stories of tired and cranky brides who didn't realize how
difficult high heels and extravagant gowns can be. Believe
me, we can find a very flattering style that will make your
wedding day a pleasure, not an endurance contest."
"Now Jenny, normally I would suggest a strapless style for
your figure, but since Darlene will be wearing full bodice
you should too. I would think a scoop neckline for you and
something more square for Darlene, perhaps a bateau. I
don't mean to get too personal, Darlene, but may I see your
bare arms?"
I raised the loose, flowing sleeves of my dress. "I'm
afraid I have a bit more muscle mass than most women."
"Please, don't be embarrassed, dear. You do have large
shoulders and upper arms, but I think you should be able to
carry off a three quarter sleeve. Now that we have some
idea of what we should be looking for it's time for the fun
part. Darlene, I think I have something you will enjoy
trying on over here.
Have you ever actually tried on a bridal gown? I don't
think I'm all that different than most crossdressers, but
as much as I have thought of it I never actually had the
bravado to do it. Shopping for regular dresses is really
pretty simple. They hang there on racks and you wander
about and look them over. The salesladies (if you can find
a live person in most big stores these days) don't pay you
much attention, even in male mode. If you have the nerve
and the figure you can even take one into the dressing room
and try it on, no human interaction needed.
Not so with a bridal gown. You find them mostly in little
shops with very solicitous and knowledgeable people ready
to guide you through every step, just as Sandy had just
done. If I could suffer a panic attack entering Sandy's
door, just think how daunting it would be for one of my
deeply closeted sisters. Some adventures will remain as
dreams to many.
By the time we were through discussing styles, I was
feeling very relaxed and secure. The first gown Shelly
showed me had an intricately pleated bodice and high
neckline, but something about it wasn't quite right.
Perhaps the vertical pleats emphasized my height a bit too
much. While my choices were somewhat limited by my size,
Shelly knew that brides come in all sizes and there was no
shortage of samples to try on.
There's something else I hadn't considered, most of those
gowns took help to put on correctly, so Shirley and Theresa
soon saw me in my lacy white bra and panties. A gentle
smile crossed Shelly's face the first time, but she treated
me as if I were as feminine as she, without the slightest
trace of disapproval. I was soon completely comfortable
with both of them as we tried on dress after dress.
Actually seeing the dress on your body helps, I was able to
see just what flattered me and what didn't. By the end of
the evening both Jenny and I had a pretty good idea of what
we wanted, so we sat down and paged through the various
collections until we were satisfied. The orders were
placed (Cliff's $500 would be greatly appreciated!) and
Shelly kissed us goodbye as if we were long time friends.
I was floating on a cloud by the time we got back into the
car, and so was Jenny. What a delightful experience!
Don...
"Hey Don, got a minute to talk?" asked Jimmy.
"Sure Jimmy, c'mon in. I think there's a chair under the
pile of crap over there." No one has ever accused me of
keeping my little cubbyhole neat. Computerization had
rather snuck up on the company and my work area, a bench
set aside in the corner of the shop, had grown haphazardly
as the work increased. A few years back, someone had
slapped up a couple of walls around my mess so I had a
place to hang things, thus I now had an office. Ah, the
perquisites of power!
"Don - that bet with Cliff. You really going to do it?"
"I'm really going to do it, Jimmy."
"I thought so. Look Don, it's none of my business but a
few months back I saw Jenny in the mall with a woman who
could have been your sister. I didn't say anything because
at the time I was looking a lot like my own sister. What
I'm trying to say is that I can understand why you'd want
to be a bride even if it there wasn't a bet involved. If
I'm wrong I'll just shut up and leave."
I guess I should have been expecting it when I made the
decision to come out for the wedding, but I really hadn't
thought it through all the way. I suppose some part of me
was hoping I could get away with blaming one public
appearance on the bet and then everyone would conveniently
forget about it and I could keep Darlene in some back room
when her presence was inconvenient. The feeling in my
stomach was somewhere between that of a kid with his hand
in the cookie jar and sitting in front of an IRS agent with
a big frown on her face. I took a deep breath.
"I go by the name Darlene when Jenny and I cruise the
malls, Jimmy."
"Whew! I guess you know how hard it is to talk about being
a crossdresser, but I had to say something. I go by
Jantina; my family's Dutch and I always loved the name."
"Pretty name. I always thought you would make a good
looking woman if you were so inclined, but I didn't have
the nerve to even mention the subject. I guess I'm a
little jealous, but you work with the body you got."
"I would have gladly traded in this body most of the time I
was growing up. You have no idea how hard it is to be the
smallest guy in school or the Little League or anyplace
else. No matter how good you are, most people think being
short means you're never going to do things right. Hell, I
was almost 18 before I had my first date, girls just
wouldn't take me seriously. These days I thank my lucky
stars for my body. I still get some pretty strange looks
as a man, but no one looks twice at Jantina.
"I never thought about it before, but I can see the
problem. Me, I'm always having to make myself look smaller
and more feminine. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to
find a wedding gown that didn't make me look like a man in
a dress. I never felt so big and clunky as I did last
night when we were at the bridal shop."
"I guess we all got problems, just different ones. Don?"
he hesitated.
"Yeah?"
"What made you come out? Until I saw you with Jenny I
hadn't a clue you might be a 'sister.' I've been thinking
about it a lot lately, but after the scene when my ex found
out, I never had the nerve. It was a lot of years before I
found someone who could love me, and you can be sure I told
her about Jantina when we started to get serious. I guess
Jenny must be okay with you in a dress, but what about the
rest of your family? Did they freak out?"
I surprised him by laughing. "Jimmy, my sister June
started dressing me up before I was old enough to remember.
My mom thought it was cute when I was a kid, and when she
became a feminist she thought it was liberating for me.
Would you believe my sister has her husband dressing up
too? They're both actors and he claims it was just
practice for playing Tootsie, but if I know June, they're
going to need a lot more closet space from now on. He was
even a bridesmaid when mom remarried last year and no one
twigged that June's friend from Chicago was really her
husband. It hurt a lot that I couldn't be a bridesmaid for
mom without stealing the show at her wedding."
"Yeah, I guess we all dream of being bridesmaids or brides
sometime in our lives. I'm glad you decided to actually do
it. Maybe someday it'll be my turn."
"Jimmy, if you want to, I could use another bridesmaid."
"Thank you, Don. I'm honored but I'm not sure I'm ready
yet."
"Well, you did offer to be the flower girl. I could start
something with Cliff and get him to expand the bet to
include you. Wouldn't you like to see his face when the
both of us walk down the aisle in dresses and carrying
flowers?"
"You are an evil man, Don. If you can do it, I'll play
along. I leave my fate in your hands, 'sister'."
"Not in my hands, Jantina. In Jenny's.
Charlene, Jenny's mom...
My mother, may she rest in peace, often told the story of
how I came into the kitchen one day with my sister Betty.
I was about two years old and had my arm wrapped around her
neck, she had a blue tinge to her chubby cheeks and I was
practically dragging her along with me. I cheerfully
announced "See Mommy, I can carry Betty!"
Right now, I was wishing I had finished the job. I briefly
considered completing it in, say, the next few minutes. As
a woman, I felt 'justifiable homicide' or maybe even 'self
defense' might be acceptable explanations, but as a lawyer
I really wouldn't have wanted to take the case.
The cause of this little daydream was the guest list for
the bridal shower. When I had allowed my darling sister to
badger me into hosting it with her I simply didn't realize
just how delicate it would be to ask the world to greet two
brides at once. I dearly love my daughter Jenny, and I
have come to appreciate her true love as both Don or
Darlene, but it has been a trial. Having a psychiatrist
for a sister helps in times of great stress, and without
Betty's wisdom and advice I fear I might have reacted badly
and lost both my daughter and her love.
Be that as it may, I was wishing my daughter had chosen a
mate who's eccentricities did not show on the surface. I
was just plain scared at telling the world about it. Then
there was the issue of inviting Darlene's friends to the
shower. After all, one couldn't properly slight one of the
brides, but having several crossdressers included in the
guest list made me nervous. Betty had once again reassured
me that the world was far more accepting of individual
differences than when we had gotten married a generation
ago.
"That's fine for you to say, Betty, but it's not you that
has to announce to your professional colleagues that your
daughter's marrying a crossdresser."
"Charlene, my professional colleagues would line up for the
chance to meet Darlene. Just be glad she is one of those
rare crossdressers that look good as a woman. My usual
clients have physical challenges that are hard to
overcome."
"I have no doubt, darling sister, but not too long ago my
professional colleagues would have lined up for a chance to
prosecute her for public indecency or whatever obscure blue
law they could find still on the books."
"So don't invite anyone from the DA's office. You have any
friends in the Vice Squad?
"You're a lot of help."
"That's what sisters are for. Really Charlene, if it's
going to be such a problem then perhaps we should cancel
the shower or let one of Jenny's friends do it."
"No, I'm just having an attack of middle class angst.
Jenny and Don have clearly made the decision to make
Darlene a part of their lives and we're going to have to
live with that. As you keep telling me, we are not
responsible for the actions of others. If I want to have a
happy family then I will have to accept Darlene as part of
it, even when outsiders are present."
"Be careful, sister. If more people were that sensible I'd
be out of a job.
"Tough. I wouldn't mind if all you damned shrinks became
unemployed. Just think - I'd never have to question an
'expert witness' again."
"You wound me!"
"You're a doctor. Heal thyself! I suppose we need to
respect their wishes and not hide Darlene. Besides, I
wouldn't want people to think Harry was running around
with a younger woman when he and Darlene go fishing at the
cabin together."
"Enough soul searching, sister...we have a party to plan.
Let's start with the Judges, then the lawyers and
politicians. We'll consider the peons like Jenny's friends
next and save Darlene's 'sisters' for last.
"How are we going to hold a party with such an insane mix
of people?
"With the usual silly games and activities. Remember, we
only have to keep them together for a few hours. Now, I
have some ideas about the phrasing of the invitations, and
I don't want it to sound like a subpoena either."
"Any suggestions for the wedding invitation? That's going
to be a bit tricky too. 'Mr. & Mrs. Bosch invite you to
the wedding of their daughter Jenny to a guy wearing a
wedding gown' just doesn't cut it. I'm not even sure what
name to use! I don't want any of the guests to have a
coronary when they find Don in a dress, but do we really
want to put into print she's marrying someone named
Darlene? I am completely flummoxed, Betty."
"It is a quandary, Charlene. Even though I have had many
clients with gender dysphoria, none of them have actually
fulfilled what is a very common fantasy. I'm afraid I have
no experience to guide you. Would it be too tacky to have
a small note to the effect of 'In solidarity with oppressed
minorities Mr. Leget and Miss Bosch have chosen to etc.
etc.'?"
"I don't suppose we could be truthful and say 'To the
consternation of their parents and friends, Mr. Leget etc.
etc.' How can someone I'm so fond of cause such a problem
just by being themselves?"
"At the risk of repeating myself, I'd be out of a job if we
knew. You'll cope splendidly, my dear. You always do."
Jenny...
How do I get myself into these situations? Since the day
we met, when I found him wearing a bra while he did the
laundry in the basement of our apartment building, his life
as Darlene has fascinated me. I love him dearly, but
sometimes my love can get stuck in his male side no matter
what his appearance.
Call me weird, but it really doesn't matter if I spend my
time with Don or Darlene. So far it works out about even.
Most weekends are spent with Darlene unless there's some
function that specifically calls for Don. Most weeknights
it's just too much trouble to get all made up and Don
putters around the place. I love the person that shares
those names and it doesn't matter to me what clothing is
covering the body.
Sometimes I find myself in the rather weird position of
encouraging my love to dress up. Not that he doesn't want
to, but there's still enough of the fear and guilt so many
of his 'sisters' have to cope with that keeps Darlene under
wraps if there's a chance someone who knows Don might find
out about Darlene. Our getting married was one of those
times. Since the time we started to get serious about each
other, I knew Don dreamed of being married in a wedding
dress, yet when we set the date he was wracked by
indecision.
Both of our families, even Daddy (especially Daddy!), have
accepted his crossdressing with an amazing lack of
distress, for that matter, his sister and my aunt are
positively cheerleaders for Darlene. While we have a few
friends who know and accept Darlene, most of our
acquaintances are in blissful ignorance about my live-in
girlfriend and Don isn't really sure he wants to change
that.
For my part, I think I would rather let the world know
about Darlene, it would make keeping track of who knows and
who doesn't so much simpler. So far, we haven't lost any
friends when we told them, but we discussed pretty
thoroughly who we would tell beforehand so that's not too
big a surprise. The problem is distant relatives, old
family friends, and co-workers; the kind of people you
invite to a wedding but otherwise don't know too much
about. For all that Cliff is a chauvinistic idiot, I have
to thank him for making up my beloved's mind.
Which brings me to today's little caper. Now that Don was
comfortable about exchanging vows with me as Darlene it was
starting to look like half the wedding party would be men
in gowns. By the time I got through with my lunchtime
visit with Don I fully intended to have Cliff think he was
forcing Jimmy to wear a dress at the wedding. The Bogus
Bridesmaid Caper - sounds like a title for a Donald
Westlake novel, doesn't it? Maybe that's not so good an
allusion, Westlake's capers always go awry and I want this
one to come off as planned.
I pulled into the parking space and checked my hair and
makeup. Instead of my usual working suit, I had worn a
frilly white dress with enough lace to satisfy even Darlene
at her most feminine. Short hemline, plunging neckline
with a precisely sized pendant swinging in my cleavage,
more heel on my shoes than I prefer, lots of jangling
bracelets, and godawful big gold hoops dangling from my
ears. In other words, an outfit to distract the hell out
of Cliff while I twisted him around my finger. Mother
Jones might have been shocked at my appearance, but she
would have understood my choice of weapons for my duel with
Cliff. Sample book in hand, I listened to the echoes of my
too high heels as I walked down the hall. Turning on my
brightest smile I burst into the lunchroom.
"Don!" I exclaimed, "I couldn't wait for you to see this!"
Excitedly, I thrust the book in front of him as he quickly
snatched his sandwich out of the way. In the sudden
silence my unexpected entrance had produced, I paged
through the book until we I came to the picture of the gown
he had enthusiastically chosen. He must have inherited
some of his sister's acting talent because he managed to
look very, very embarrassed.
"I've been looking all over the city for the perfect dress
and I finally found it. Isn't it the most beautiful thing
you've ever seen?" I hoped my acting talent was as good as
his, because I nearly gagged at the saccharine in my voice.
"Look at that darling ruffle and the beautiful train! It's
simply scrumptious!"
"Uh..." he replied with just the right touch of confused male
in his voice. "You'll look beautiful in it, Jenny."
If I thought the place was silent before, there was a
positive absence of sound now.
"I meant for you! You do want to win that bet, don't you?"
I inquired sweetly. I was looking at Cliff out of the
corner of my eye, and he was staring intently at me.
Naturally I failed to notice his stare as I prattled on.
"I think it's so sweet you want to support my gay friends
like this. You are the most romantic and caring man I
know!" I gushed. Then I planted an enthusiastic kiss,
which we held for quite some time. Now I failed to notice
the red spreading over Cliff's face. "I'm so glad your
friends here at work convinced you that you should wear
this delightful gown when we get married."
Now, at last, I noticed Cliff, but true to the character of
the ditz I was portraying, I completely failed to see his
discomfort. Swinging my hips, I pranced over to him and
enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug, making sure his nose
was firmly inserted in my cleavage. From the odd quivering
I felt as I hugged him (yucch!), I knew I had the poor man
very, um, moved.
"Thank you so much, Cliff. It means so much to me that my
Donnie (Oops - maybe I was going too far. Don hates to be
called Donnie.) is willing to help me make a statement for
equality at our wedding. Without your support I don't
think he would have." There, I had him completely confused
and flustered. The guys at the lunch table were laughing
uproariously as I carried on.
"Would you consider being one of my bridesmaids, Cliffie
dear? You'd look lovely in lavender!"
By then even Cliff must have figured out I was playing him
for a sucker, but the whole thing was so funny the rest of
the guys were happy to play along. As the round of ribald
comments slowed, Jimmy took his cue.
"Uh Jenny?"
"Yes Jim?"
"I think you're a bit confused. Cliff is betting five
hundred bucks that Don WON'T wear a dress at the wedding.
I think old Cliff is a bit of a conservative in some
matters. Guys wearing dresses seems to bother him for some
reason."
"Does that mean you won't be my bridesmaid?" I pouted. "I
was so hoping the nice people Don works with would support
us."
There ensued a round of jeering encouragement for Cliff to
comply with my wishes, just as I had expected, with Jimmy
leading the pack. Cliff's face was turning a lovely shade
of magenta.
"If you think it's such a fu.., darn good idea to dress
like pansies then why don't you be the fu.., uh,
bridesmaid, Jimmy?" The poor man didn't want to swear with
a lady present. How quaint!
"It'd be worth it just to piss you off, Cliffie baby, but
you're paying Don five big ones to dress up, how much do I
get?"
"I wouldn't give a shrimp like you a nickel."
"Jeez Cliff, shrimp goes ten, twelve bucks a pound. Ain't
I worth a tenner? C'mon guys, it's got to be worth a pound
of shrimp to see me go down the aisle in a dress."
"I'm in Jimmy. Anything to see Cliff steamed."
"If it's shrimp you're after maybe it better be a cocktail
dress."
"I'm in too. I'm sick of Cliff's carping!"
You guys really want Jimmy floundering around your
wedding?"
"Clam up, buddy!
"Who's gonna hold the stakes? They better have a freezer
or I wouldn't want to win the bet by the time Don gets
married."
By the time I left, Jimmy had his wish, Cliff's
conservative views had taken a trouncing, and we were
assured a shrimp buffet at the wedding. Not a bad piece of
work.
Don...
Things at work calmed down for a few days after our attempt
at Gorilla Theater. Other than an occasional smartass
remark, the whole thing was lost in the day to day madness
of running a machine shop. Returning to my little
cubbyhole a few days later, I found a yellow note on top of
the pile on my desk. In his characteristic green ink the
boss had scribbled "Don - See me. GG." Not one for using
more words than necessary was Gene Garrett.
It took a while to catch up with Gene, we both spend a lot
of time running around the plant. Unlike my space, his
office is clean and polished, no clutter anywhere. I sat
down and asked, "What did you want, Gene?"
"I'm not so sure what I want, to tell the truth. I had to
spend a good twenty minutes listening to Cliff bitch and
moan about you and Jimmy. He seems to think you're about
to disgrace the company and commit indecent exposure or
something. Then he seems to think that your lady shouldn't
be allowed in the lunchroom because she looks like a tart.
Sometimes it's a bit hard to figure out what Cliff really
means, but I don't want things getting out of hand around
here."
"You may be too late for that, Gene. I kinda let Cliff get
my goat the other day when he was telling us how evil it
was for gays to get married."
"Huh? What's that got to do with the price of peas?"
So I recounted the bet, carefully slanting it to make it
look like I was doing it only to make Cliff mad.
"Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind, Don? You aren't
seriously going to wear a dress to your wedding because of
a stupid bet?"
"Well, like I said, it kinda got out of hand. I was pissed
at Cliff before it happened and when he made the bet I just
took it to spite him. You don't know Jenny too well, but
she is a major advocate for gay rights, on or off the job.
Remember the company picnic when she and Cliff got into a
'discussion' about right-to-work laws and universal health
care?
"I wasn't sure what they were arguing about but it looked
pretty intense."
"It was. I don't think there's a chance in hell I could
convince her I should wear a tuxedo, and besides it's an
easy $500 for the honeymoon. To tell the truth, Gene, it's
crazy enough that I'm getting a kick out of it."
"I don't know, Don. I try to keep my nose out of my
employee's personal lives, but sometimes it gets hard.
You're not gay, are you Don?"
"Hell, Gene, I'm marrying a woman, aren't I? No, I'm not
gay, but I really don't see anything wrong with being gay,
either."
"I guess I'm not quite so liberal, this whole thing makes
me very nervous, Don."
"I'm sorry, Gene. I got carried away. I'll try to make
sure it doesn't affect anyone at work, OK?"
"Yeah, do that. But that's not what I wanted to talk to
you about "
"It wasn't?
"Look Don, I appreciate everything you've done in bringing
the company up to snuff technologically. I consider you to
be a very valuable man. You've become my bridge between
management and the guys on the floor, and your personal
efforts have made a big difference in how well the company
runs. I know you're still in the union, but a good part of
what you're doing now is what could be called management."
"Don't get me wrong, I think this is a great development.
I don't want this place to become one of those shops where
Union and Management fight each other; if we work together
we're all better off. In any case, I'd like to send you
for some training in the office side of the operation.
I looked curious, not sure what to say.
"There's a seminar on a new efficiency and quality control
program in a couple of weeks and I'd like you to go. What
I'm interested in is whether this is something useful or
just another package of happy horseshit from some
consultant who wants to make a bundle. You have a good
understanding of both sides of our operation and I think
you are the man to send."
"I don't know, Gene. I've never done anything like that
before."
"Don, I'll let you in on one of the little secrets of
management. The things at a nice resort and you can be
sure there's plenty of time available to enjoy the
facilities when you're not attending to business. Take
Jenny with you and enjoy yourselves on the company, then
bring me back a report."
"This is starting to sound better and better. If I'm going
to represent management does that mean I gotta wear a suit
and tie and smoke a big cigar so we look prosperous to the
other folks?"
"At a resort on a weekend? 'Business casual' as the
euphemism goes. Hell, you can wear your damned wedding
dress for all I care, just as long as you're not extorting
any more money from Cliff."
I think I heard my Fairy Godmother sprinkling pixie dust
just about then. Gene thought he was being funny, but I
had a new skirted suit that I was dying to wear.
"What happens if I think it's a load of crap?"
"Then it costs me a few bucks for the seminar and I don't
waste a bundle trying to implement something that won't
work."
"I'll see what I can do, Gene."
Jenny...
"Hello?"
"Hi yourself, daughter. You sound perky today."
"I should. Don and I got the walls finished in the bedroom
yesterday and we'll paint them today. If we can get the
carpet put in this week we can move next weekend. I can
hardly wait!"
"Where do you get your energy?
"I just stick my finger in the wall socket and charge as
needed."
"I refused to be shocked by your attitude. Anyway, I
wanted to talk to you about when to have the shower."
"Shower?"
"Yes. The Bridal Shower, darling. Remember - you're
getting married. It's traditional to give the bride a
shower, so Betty and I are doing so even if we seem to have
a surplus of brides."
"Oh, my. I hadn't thought of that. This keeps getting
more complicated."
"It's a wedding, dear. It's supposed to be complicated."
"So it seems. I'm starting to have second thoughts about
this two bride business. I hadn't thought through how
thoroughly Darlene would be shown to the world."
"You always were impulsive, Jenny dear. I'm afraid it's a
little late to change your mind at this point. I dread
talking to Jeff once he opens the invitation. How we ever
managed to raise a Republican is beyond me, but I have no
doubt he's going to make life difficult. I hope my liberal
friends don't have an unsuspected conservative streak in
them when it comes to crossdressing."
"Tell me about it. At least you're working with liberals.
I had no idea how resistant Union people could be to the
idea of the groom in a dress. They may be sending the RSVP
to you but I'm going to get a lot of calls."
"Well, Betty did warn you."
"So she did, and so did you. I guess Darlene and I really
didn't believe how public things were going to get. The
new neighbors must be wondering who's moving into the
place. For better or worse, Don and I have just about
decided that Darlene is going to be out of the closet for
good. Not that we worked to hard to hide it before."
"Actually Mom, it was Darlene and I who finished the
plastering yesterday, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and
the bare minimum of makeup to hide the beard. I've barely
had time to get used to Darlene in casual clothes, let
alone grubbies for working. I can hardly wait to see
Darlene spattered with paint. If she doesn't wear
something over her wig it'll be ruined. Frankly, I think
as long as he's wearing a bra he's happy. I guess there
are some things I'll never understand."
"Life is a mystery, Jenny. You're the one who fell in love
with a crossdresser. Not that there's anything wrong with
that, but there will be challenges. Anyway, I still need a
date."
"I don't think daddy would approve of you attending with
another man."
"You try a mother's patience, girl."
"Well, we should be moving next week and the following week
is that seminar for Don's work. Darlene and I will be
attending that, you know. The next week I have a labor
picnic so it will have to be four weeks from now. That
should be plenty of time to send invitations."
"Very good. Saturday afternoon, four weeks from now.
Betty has volunteered her place, so all we have to do is
find something to keep Roger amused and the festivities can
commence without any untoward male influence. I can hardly
wait to see how Darlene handles the silly party games
Kathy's planned. That's traditional too, you know."
"Just do me one favor, mother. Don't try and get Uncle
Roger to put on a dress if he makes a fuss about leaving.
They're enough crossdressers in this wedding as it is."
"Speaking of which, I'll need addresses of any friends you
or Darlene want at the shower."
"You sure you want to test your friend's liberal natures
with some of Darlene's 'sisters'?"
"I'd rather appear before Judge Dredd, but I'm not about to
provide grounds for a sexual discrimination suit. This
shower ought to provide party stories for a good, long
time."
"I'll e-mail you the names. And mom..."
"Yes?"
"Thanks. I love you very much."
"I know, dear. Why do you think I'm willing to do this?"
Don...
Saturday morning, and I'll admit I wasn't at my most alert.
Jenny and I hadn't gotten much sleep last night, even
though we spent it all in bed. Even coffee in the resort
dining room and a rather good breakfast didn't help. I was
trying to be attentive, but after the first half hour or so
it was becoming obvious this was just another three letter
wonder (these quality and motivation programs always have a
three letter acronym) that just ate time and effort,
producing what usually results from indigestible matter.
Oh well, Gene would be disappointed, but I intended to
enjoy myself at his expense.
This guy was droning on and on about 200% effort, strategic
somethings, and planned whatsis in the workplace. This
program's mantra was "Act NOW!"...you could almost hear the
capital letters. I was motivated, all right, but my
motivation was to get Jenny back to the room so we could
rut like rabbits. She had decided to attend the lecture
with me in the hope it would offer something she could use
professionally. Oh, well - at least I could whisper
comments to her.
When the inevitable motivational movie started, I slid my
hand over on to her thigh and began to play around with the
hem of her skirt. My thoughts were on her delectable body
as we got dressed this morning. I had put the moves on her
to no avail, she is a practical woman and I really did have
to show up at the seminar on time. In the darkness of the
seminar I envisioned unhooking her lacy bra and sucking on
her beautiful tits, then stripping off the layer of
pantyhose for an afternoon snack.
Hey, maybe the seminar was having an effect on me after
all. The guy kept stressing a clear vision and forceful
action, above all "Act NOW!" Well, my vision was clear as
I had watched Jenny put on her tailored business suit. It
looks like a blouse and jacket, but I knew the white front
of the blouse was a dickey sewn into the jacket, so I took
action. With my eyes staring blindly into the screen I
slid my hand upward and under her jacket until I was
caressing her breast. She swatted my fingers under the
jacket, but I wasn't deterred. I drew circles over the
slippery fabric of her bra cup, zeroing in on her nipple as
I played in the dark. It wasn't long before she settled
back in the seat and shifted a bit toward me.
I amused myself playing with her bra straps and sliding my
finger beneath the soft cups to touch her nipple. Each
time I found it I could feel her body tense but she
remained silent as I revved her up. Just to see how far I
could go, I slid my finger under the band of the bra and
drew it up and over her breast, leaving her open to my
probing fingers. The film was still running, so I
proceeded to pinch her nipples. Jenny was really enjoying
my touch and was starting to squirm a bit as she got more
and more turned on. Just as I was about to get bold and
explore under her skirt, the music swelled and the film
ended, as did my explorations. Jenny quickly tugged her
bra into place and we once again became part of the
audience.
When the session finally ended, we rode the elevator to our
room. As soon as the elevator door closed I pulled up her
deceptive jacket, again pulled up her bra and hungrily
sucked her breasts until the dinging bell announced our
floor. The room door had barely closed before our skirts
hit the floor simultaneously and we raced to our bed.
Kicking off her shoes, she jumped in, shucked her
pantyhose, and spread her legs, demanding service right
now. Now that's motivation for you, I struggled out of my
own panties to dive right in and lap her supremely
productive cunt. She was very wet from my teasing, with a
beautiful aroma as I parted her brown hair. Her appetizing
pink lips peeked out from the bush, just asking to be
kissed, so I did. I sucked each tender pussy lip between
my lips, tickling the edge with my tongue as I drew them
into my mouth.
She started to wiggle again so I began to lap her slit with
long, sensuous strokes of my tongue. Beads of love juice
clinging to her pubic hair brushed against my face as I ate
her out, until they began to drip off my chin. I know what
Jenny likes most of all so once she was really flying I
spread her bush to expose her lovely little clit. I placed
my lips over her button and began to suck lightly. I
inserted my finger into her love tunnel, pressing upward in
time with my lashing tongue on her clitoris. She really
got off on that, and I had a hard time keeping up with her
as she shifted her sexy ass under me.
When she came, I crawled up her body and plunged my manhood
deep into her well lubricated hole. The bed was the
perfect height; I was able to stand beside it and slide
myself deeply into her with ease. I like that position,
especially when I'm wearing my bra. There's a whole new
dimension to fucking when you can feel your falsies shift
and bounce with each thrust. I found there's a downside to
the "Act NOW" strategy. Because I was so horny, I came far
too soon, filling her with my juices after only a few
strokes. Oh well, we still had the entire weekend to go.
That afternoon, we had signed up for an amateur golf
tournament. Neither of us were really golfers, but I was
curious as to what playing golf as Darlene would feel like.
Our casual business attire was abandoned for the comfort of
simple white shells over suitably patterned bras that would
just show through, flowered cotton skirts, and athletic
shoes. I rather admired how Darlene looked in resort garb,
a look I had never tried before, and I positively drooled
when I looked at Jenny. I was going to have to watch that
or people would start wondering.
Golf while being dressed turned out to be a wonderful
experience. It took a while to get my balance with the
weight of the falsies in my bra, but it felt great to take
a swing at the ball and feel how my bra moved with the
motion. Then there was the feeling as my breasts brushed
my arms when I stood over a putt, skirt caressing my legs
in the gentle breeze. My score at the end of the round
clearly testified to my amateur status, but I won the prize
for the "Most Enthusiastic" participant. Being a tourney
run by an outfit trying to sell us something, there were
prizes for everyone, but it was fun.
Sunday morning she surprised me by putting on stockings and
garters. Stockings were my preference; Jenny usually saved
them for erotic play. No panties, either, so I followed
her lead; I got the feeling she was trying to motivate me.
We donned our proper business attire and we went down to
breakfast, but before leaving the room I made sure I had a
certain motivational tool in my purse in case it was
needed. By then I was sure the whole program was just one
more alphabet soup of letters with no real benefit except
to the people selling the plan, so I had little interest in
the seminar. However, we both searched the program,
looking for the next movie and she smiled at me as she
pointed it out.
This time we sat in the back of the theater and as soon as
the lights dimmed, I pulled up her skirt and began to play
with her bush. I took out my moti