Tupperware Meeting
- 3 years ago
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The Tupperware Queen free porn video
The following story was inspired by 'Tupperware!', a documentary film
that aired on the PBS show American Experience. The film featured
dozens of clips appealing to those of us with an appreciation of and
attraction to female dress of the fifties. At one point in the
documentary, there was a brief discussion of "Tupperware ladies",
husbands of authentic (for lack of a better term) Tupperware ladies who
would appear in rather clownish drag at the ladies' meetings. One
contemporary authentic Tupperware lady revealed that her husband was
one of the men who continued this tradition.
What follows is a period piece of sorts. Set in the fifties, it deals
with one woman's reaction to "Tupperware ladies"
***
We had struggled so at the beginning of our marriage. I had attempted
something of an acting career, while Bob had concentrated on his
painting. Jobs were few and far between. More often than not, I fell
back on the occasional modeling stint, while Bob was forced to accept
work contracted out by a local advertising firm. We were happy with
each other, but miserable about our surroundings. My chance attendance
at a party changed everything for us. I was introduced to the world of
Tupperware and, seeing a way out of our financial difficulties, threw
myself into its orbit. To say that Tupperware was good to us would be
an understatement. In little more than a year we had moved out of our
squalid cold water apartment, and had taken out a mortgage on a
spacious new house in a new suburb outside Philadelphia. I believe my
rapid rise up the ranks was due to two factors: my belief in the
product, and the enjoyment I felt in working with other women. It was
nice, for once, not to fall under the leering gaze of men, something I
had experienced time after time while modeling.
As I say, Tupperware had been so very good for us, and yet there was
one thing about the company that I wasn't too pleased with: these were
the "Tupperware ladies", husbands who appeared at our local meetings
dressed as women.
The "Tupperware ladies" had, without exception, presented unattractive
images. They wore their wives' old clothes and ill-fitting shoes,
topped off by ratty wigs and, most often, a silly looking hat. The last
I had seen was a hairy man who had worn an old gown that was ripping at
the seams in order to accommodate his boxy body. He spoke in a high
pitched voice, shrieking as he related stories of his successes. While
the rest of the ladies seemed to find his performance amusing, I felt
offended by the spectacle. I had shuddered at the thought that Bob
would be expected to join their ranks at the next meeting. I was
determined that my Bob would not follow this example. My husband would
present the image of a confident, cheerful, attractive, proper woman;
in short, he would reflect the very image of the true Tupperware
ladies.
These thoughts in mind, the following month I set out to Hathaway's, my
very favorite women's clothing shop. I would like to say that I bought
all of my own clothes at the Hathaway's, but as good as Tupperware had
been to us, I was limited by my pocketbook to shopping at the store
only on special occasions. I had a sense that Bob's first experience in
ladies' clothing might rank as the most special occasion of all.
I began, as one might expect, in the lingerie department. Bob is a very
trim man, not at all like the "Tupperware lady" who had offended me so.
I was confident that with a little nip here and a little padding there
Bob's form could look convincingly female. My first purchase was an
open-bottom girdle. It was rather elaborate in its beauty, featuring a
series of contour bands to shape the waist, hips, back and derriere. I
must admit I smiled when I read that the "flexible spiral boning"
provided back support. Bob would occasionally complain of a bad back.
Must remember to tease him, I thought. I'd tell him to put on his
pretty girdle the next time his back bothered him.
The girdle had a fourteen-inch front hook and eye opening; a feature I
felt Bob would be able to manage. It was available in black, rose and
white. As this was to be Bob's first time, I felt white was
appropriate.
The girdle's four detachable garters served to remind me that Bob would
require stockings. I found a pair that was absolutely lovely, in beige
with a hand sewn back seam and finishing hole at the top of the welt.
They were expensive, but I justified the cost by telling myself, once
again, that this was to be Bob's first experience in feminine finery.
The bra, I realized, was to be my most important purchase. The last
thing I wanted was for my Bob's breasts to look like the large,
clownish protrusions of the other "Tupperware ladies". I spent a great
deal of time going over racks and racks of brassieres, inspecting cups,
straps, gauging shape, comfort and support. What I was hoping for was a
bra that, combined with falsies, would be helping provide the look I
was after, without sacrificing beauty. I finally settled on a white and
floral lace Charmante bra by Corette. Low cut, it featured net lined
breast cups with boning with powernet sides and back. The front, sides
and back also featured boning. There was a three-tier hook and eye
closures, so I felt confident that it would fit Bob.
At the risk of repeating myself, it truly was a beautiful bra, the sort
of bra which, had I worn it, would have made Bob drool. I hoped he
would be pleased.
I next purchased next a beautiful satin camisole that featured
intricate embroidery on a soft baby net. I was confident that the
combination of my husband's new camisole and bra would be quite
breathtaking.
I'd already decided that Bob would wear a petticoat to the meeting, so
many of us did. This meeting being so special, I had planned on wearing
my favorite petticoat. The petticoat I chose for Bob was similar: two
layers of petti, the bottom layer of paper nylon, with a bottom ruffle.
The top layer consisted of a crinoline net with five rows of lace trim
with an extra ruffle of crini net at the bottom. It was adorned with
more than two dozen cute little bows of pale pink ribbon. As I'd looked
it over, the paper nylon had made a pleasant rustle that was simply
irresistible.
I'd seen the dress I wanted for Bob in Hathaway's window as I'd been
running errands the previous week. In fact, it had stopped me in my
tracks. There was just something about the dress that told me it was
perfect for my husband and I'd been thinking about it ever since. It
was a lovely red shirtwaist dress with three quarter length dolman
sleeves and full skirt. It had a false inner sleeve at the elbow and an
inner collar at the neck, both in white. The optional fabric belt I
felt was a must, as it would help to show off Bob's new figure. Added
to all this was a white tulle lining, which would only serve to
accentuate the effect of the petticoat that had captivated me so.
One would think I would have trouble in buying shoes for my Bob. In
fact, this was the easiest part of the whole trip. You see, Bob had
very small feet for a man, while mine are slightly large for a woman.
In fact, I would occasionally wear his sneakers when gardening.
I settled on a pair of pumps with three-inch heels in a shade of red
that matched his new dress.
I was about to leave the store when I realized I'd forgotten to buy
Bob's panties. I headed back to the lingerie department. In doing so, I
came across a display of bridal finery. My eyes were immediately drawn
to a pair of divine ruffled white satin bridal panties. I simply
couldn't resist. I made arrangements for the entire purchase to be
delivered the following morning, a time when I knew Bob would be out. I
didn't want him to have the slightest inkling of what wonderful things
were in store.
The next day, I waited at the window, coffee in hand, for Hathaway's
delivery van. For some reason, my heart started racing when it finally
arrived. I suppose I was simply so excited, recognizing that the
arrival of the pretty clothes were the first step in what I hoped would
be a wonderful transformation.
It took me several trips to carry all the packages upstairs. I lay
Bob's new clothes out on our bed, beginning with his girdle, followed
by stockings, his bridal panties, Charmante bra, camisole and, of
course, the intoxicating petticoat. Finally, I laid out the dress,
spreading the skirt to its full width. I'd only just finished when I
heard Bob walk in the front door. I skipped down the stairs and threw
my arms around my husband.
"A man from the store delivered your new clothes while you were out,
darling." I said, giving him a kiss.
Bob immediately became flustered. Perhaps it was the thought of a
delivery man carrying in boxes of feminine clothing meant, not for a
woman, but for another man; perhaps it was the realization that he
could no longer deny that his debut as a lady was close at hand.
We ate a light lunch. I was so excited. I must have seemed a non-stop
chatterbox. Bob was quite silent. My poor husband became even more
silent when he learned that the meeting was to be in late afternoon,
not in the evening as he'd thought. When he did speak he revealed that
he'd been expecting to travel to the meeting in darkness, not under the
glaring light of a late summer afternoon.
We left our plates and headed upstairs. I asked Bob to shower and shave
his face. The previous day we'd enjoyed a rather amorous evening, which
had begun when I'd joined Bob in the bathtub, helping him to shave his
legs and arms.
As I waited for my husband, I prepared my vanity table and checked my
makeup. After some reflection, I decided to change into a fresh blouse.
I was already dressed for the occasion in my favorite matching bra,
panties and garter belt. Of course, I was wearing my favorite
petticoat, covered by a very full, calf length skirt with crinoline net
for extra fullness. I was particularly fond of the flat waistband,
which had to be undone as I substituted the cotton blouse I had been
wearing for a slightly dressier one of satin.
It wasn't long before I had Bob sitting at the vanity in his silk
bathrobe. The last article of masculine clothing you'll be wearing
today, I thought mischievously.
It wasn't at all difficult to make up my Bobby's face. Previously I had
considered his fine features to be boyish. Now I thought of them as
girlish. He didn't struggle, or raise any sort of fuss, even when I
took the liberty of plucking a few hairs from his eyebrows. Nor did he
complain when I painted and buffed his fingernails. I was so pleased
with my husband. I applied a ruby lipstick, kissed him, and then
reapplied it.
I finished my work by placing a shoulder length blonde wig on his head.
I had worn the wig on a few modeling assignments, whenever the photo
shoot had called for a blonde, rather than a brunette. The wig seemed a
natural fit, perhaps in part due to the fact that the color was almost
identical to Bob's own hair.
"You make a lovely looking woman, my love," I said, and kissed his
forehead. "I'll leave you now, darling. Your clothes are all laid out
on our bed." Though I so wanted to see Bobby's reaction to his pretty
new clothes, I had decided to leave him as he entered our bedroom. I
wanted him to be alone with his thoughts as he dressed in feminine
finery for the very first time. I made my way downstairs, cleared our
lunch dishes, and made a pot of tea. All the while I listened carefully
for any sounds coming from above. I was disappointed when I heard
nothing, not even the delicious sound of the petti's paper nylon.
After what seemed like a very long wait, but was really less than half
an hour, Bobby appeared at the kitchen door.
My husband was a vision of loveliness, from his shoulder length blonde
locks to his shiny red pumps. He stood still, seemingly paralyzed, his
hands clasped in front of the skirt of his dress. I smiled and, taking
his hands, lead him to the table.
"Please, darling, sit. I've made us some tea."
I wanted his entry into womanhood to be as gentle as possible. I placed
my hand upon his, giving it a loving squeeze. We sipped our tea. I
spoke of fragrances, fashion, gardening and cooking, in short,
everything that two girlfriends would be expected to discuss over tea.
Bobby said very little and I could see him squirm every once in a
while.
"A new girdle does take some getting used to," I said reassuringly.
"And, of course, you are wearing your very first bra."
Bobby blushed.
After tea I suggested to Bobby that he might like to relax in the
living room. We still had an hour or so before we would have to leave.
Again, I looked after the cups and saucers, pretending that Bobby was a
girlfriend who had come to visit. It was a fun type of thought.
I dried my hands, grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and went to
join Bobby in the living room. But the room was empty. For a moment, a
very brief one mind you, I had the horrible thought that he had decided
he simply couldn't go ahead with it all. I had the awful image that he
might be upstairs taking off his dress.
I needn't have worried. I caught sight of him standing before the large
hallway mirror. Bobby turned this way and that, looking at his rather
curvaceous form from all angles, inspecting my handiwork. The paper
nylon of his petticoat produced such a pleasant swishing sound. I was
so pleased.
"You look lovely, Bobby."
He lowered his eyes, appearing quite sheepish. He looked so vulnerable,
so adorable. I sensed something was troubling him.
"What is it, my love?" I inquired. "Is it nerves? You really shouldn't
worry your pretty little head."
It took a few minutes to get Bobby to tell me what was troubling him.
It seemed that he had an erection. In fact, he'd been in a constant
state of arousal since he had laid hands on his open-bottom girdle.
Before he'd even started getting dressed! He was concerned that the
ladies would be able to tell, that they would be able to see his
erection pressing against the skirt of lovely shirtwaist dress. He was
so cute in his embarrassment. I couldn't help but smile.
"Oh, Bobby, you are so cute." I tried to dispel his fear. "You know I
wouldn't let you appear in public as anything but a proper lady."
Stepping back I studied the front of his skirt. I could see no sign of
his problem.
I placed a hand on the front of his skirt. At first I felt nothing, but
as I applied pressure I could feel his hardness beneath the skirt,
tulle, crinoline, paper nylon and frilly panties. He shook, seemingly
unable to contain himself.
I felt such power, as if I was firmly in control.
I dropped my purse and, placing my other hand in the small of his back,
feeling the structure of his girdle, drew him towards me. We kissed
tenderly at first. I forced my tongue between his lips, something he'd
never before allowed.
We were soon on the floor, side by side, searching through each other's
petticoats. With the layers of crinoline, lace, tulle, ribbons, bows,
it took me longer than one might expect to find my Bob's pretty bridal
panties. Drawing my fingers lightly over the ruffled satin front, I
could tell they were already quite wet - as were mine. I allowed Bob to
play with the lace hem of my own panties before, reluctantly, drawing
his hand away.
"Bobby, we must be careful. We mustn't mess ourselves up before the
meeting."
I knew to be cautious, lest he have an accident and spoil his pretty
new outfit. I reached across the floor to where my purse had fallen and
drew out a clean handkerchief. He shivered as I placed it around his
cock, moving it up and down his shaft, ever so slowly, ever so gently.
He whispered how good it felt.
"Does it feel as good as you look, Bobby?" I teased.
He nodded yes.
"You really look beautiful, Bobby. So desirable. The other ladies will
be so jealous."
Bobby moaned. He was so passive. As I continued to gently stroke, I ran
my free hand over Bobby's beautiful dress, thrilling to the feel of the
confining underwear beneath.
"Oh, Bobby, you really do look pretty. Do you feel pretty, Bobby?
Aren't your new clothes wonderful? Don't they feel good, Bobby?"
I unbuttoned his shirtwaist part way, just enough to slip my hand
beneath. His camisole was slippery, sliding over his floral lace bra
and his falsies. The feeling was delicious. Bobby placed his hand over
mine and had me squeeze his left breast, moaning with pleasure as I
did.
"I love your breasts," I whispered. "You're breasts are so beautiful,
Bobby."
At that moment, Bobby climaxed, shooting wave after wave of cum and I
could feel my silk hanky grow warm and wet. In fact, it as completely
soaked. When he'd finished I reached for a second handkerchief, which I
used to slowly, carefully, wipe up the semen.
Though I knew no one would see, the last thing I wanted was for Bob to
attend the Tupperware meeting in a cum-stained petticoat.
"Lie still, my love," I whispered.
Mei
- 08.02.2022
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