Andy
- 2 years ago
- 15
- 0
Andy 2 free porn video
Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German
TWO
Together Svenja and I had almost no room in the small garden house. I
thought she would help me, but she merely said, "Tomorrow you have to be
able to do that yourself."
Changing clothes went fairly well without serious problems. Getting the
hairnet off was more difficult with the many little clips to deal with.
Would I be able to get all this done alone tomorrow? I was unsure about
the make-up, I couldn't see for sure in the little hand mirror whether I
had gotten everything removed. And then, too, the cloth from the single-
use pack left a disagreeable feeling on my skin. And even worse, a strong
smell that reminded me a little of oranges. I had to figure out a way to
avoid that.
I said good-bye to Svenja and went home.
As I unlocked the door Mom greeted me. "And how was the first day?" When
I took off my jacket, she mentioned with a glance at my pullover, "Ah, I
see that babysitting has left traces behind."
"It really wasn't simple. I hope I can do it tomorrow by myself."
"Yes, babysitting sounds simple, but it isn't. But if you really have a
problem, you can call me."
What was I supposed to say to that? That was the problem, Mom would see
me in girl clothing. "Eh, thanks, Mom. If it's necessary, I'll call you.
Right now I have to go quick to the toilet." And I took off.
In the bathroom the first thing I did was wash my face. In the corner of
one eye there was still some mascara on two or three lashes. Had Mom seen
that? And my eyes were faintly red, probably the results of the tissue
used to remove the make-up. Maybe I had rubbed too vigorously. But my
fear of not having removed everything had not been unfounded. It just
couldn't go on this way.
I went back to Mom. She interrogated me thoroughly over the next hour.
##
Between classes in school, it occurred to me how I might solve my problem
for now. I was just drinking from a small plastic bottle. I could fill it
with water, and take two cloths from home: One to wipe off my face with
water, and the other to dry off. The damp cloth could be dried in the
garden house. I hoped.
I worried more and more. Just what had I let myself in for? Constantly
new problems arose. I was repremanded by a teacher, because I had been
unattentive. "Day dreaming" he called it. I wished it were so simple. But
I concentrated now on our instruction and put my problems on the shelf
for a time.
Later I met Svenja. I would have preferred to see her again in a short
skirt like yesterday, but in school she wore jeans like always. But with
her boots it really looked neat. Could I wear pants with such boots? How
would that look?
I shook my head. I really needed to think less about girl clothing and
especially not about how I'd look in it. She greeted me happily, "Hi,
Andy. Good news, I bid for a great package of clothing."
I looked around to see if anyone was listening. "Shh. If anyone hears
that!"
"Oh, don't get excited for nothing. I didn't say they were girl clothes."
I got red in the face. "But now you have," I whispered energetically.
Again I looked around.
"Oh, don't be such a worry wort. OK, we'll talk more later at my house."
"I thought you weren't going to be there?"
"I begged off from Babs. Tomorrow we have a test in physics which we just
heard about in class. And so you have some work to do."
So much for my free time today. But I owed Svenja, I couldn't simply say
no. "OK, I'll come. When?"
"Best would be right after school."
"Good, I'll ask Mom." I pulled out my cell phone.
##
After school on the way to Svenja's house I went into the drugstore to
buy some more make-up tissues. At the cash register there sat a rather
young girl, heavily made up. Curiously she observed my approach. "For my
sister," I lied, happy about not having just stuttered.
As I left the store I felt quite prepared. Actually I had intended to buy
more make-up, but I didn't trust myself. What would the cashier have said
then? I'd have to ask Svenja for help.
When I got to Svenja's, she saw the paper sack from the drugstore and
asked, "Well, you bought some make up?"
"No, just tissues."
"And why not? My stuff won't last much longer, the mascara especially is
almost all gone."
"I, eh..."
She looked at me closely. "You didn't trust yourself," she determined.
I did what I had been doing constantly in the past few days: I blushed.
Before now, when was the last time I had blushed? I couldn't remember.
"Can't you ..."
"I'm supposed to help you? Hmm...?" She thought about that for a moment.
"Let's see, maybe tomorrow. We'll talk about it at school."
"And, something else..."
"What else could there be? Do you need more shoes?"
"No, but the skirt from yesterday is dirty, and I ..."
"And you want to have another one of my skirts again," she confirmed.
"It's really time that you get your own things. Good, put on your
lingerie."
"Already?"
"You're a very comical fellow. I thought you were elated to wear girl
clothing."
Oops, I almost blew my cover again. I just kept my mouth shut, went into
the garden house, changed clothes, and then pulled my jeans over the
lingerie. It looked pretty funny with the ballerina flats.
In Svenja's room I had to take off my jeans right away again. I stood
there in my tights and looked at Svenja as she went through her closet.
"No, no, no, maybe, no no. The leather skirt might be good, because you
can wipe it off clean, but it's too sexy. But here, that's good. Matches
your pullover."
In a short time I had on a long skirt reminiscent of the Romantic Look.
It was a bit too frivolous, but it did in fact look good with my sweater.
Then I helped her with physics, but not before I was made up. Svenja
grumbled again because I was using her make-up. I really didn't pay her
much attention. I was contending with a contradiction in my head: How can
a boy be proud of the fact that he got his make-up on right?
##
I don't know how I got home yesterday without having clothing problems.
Now I hardly dared go out on the street. Only the time shown on my watch
drove me outside.
I would have liked to walk with long steps, but the skirt was too
confining for that. It wasn't really all that narrow, it was simply that
my strides were too long. With shorter steps I gradually calmed down. It
was a kind of mantra, walking with normal shorter steps produced a
background for the unaccustomed clamour of the hard soles; it was a kind
of mantra. In addition to that came the feeling of the skirt as it
caressed my legs.
Actually the awareness of wearing a skirt ought to have made me crazy.
But astonishingly, it was this particular feeling that calmed me. I guess
that isn't so crazy, I thought. A hand can hit you or stroke you. And
right now the skirt was stroking me.
##
Mrs. Weber greeted me in a friendly way. And then came a shooting rocket
by the name of Mark, and with one leap was high in the air. I thought in
horror of my balloons. Carefully I set the squirrelly monster down.
Immediately he fastened onto my leg.
Mrs. Weber came to my rescue. "Mark, you can't do that. You'll ruin the
poor girl's tights."
Mark looked totally without comprehention. There I could identify with
him, my own familiarity with tights was only two days old. But now I was
really happy that he wasn't under my skirt again. And my balloons were
still in one piece (or two if you will).
Two hours later everyone was satisfied. Lena had been fed and freshly
changed, and Mark had fallen asleep in front of the television. Actually
he was supposed to be in bed, but I decided not to take the risk. It was
just so peaceful. And since I'd only done physics with Svenja at noon
today, I still had homework to do.
There wasn't so much today, and so it only took an hour to finish it off.
I really had nothing more to do than wait for Mrs. Weber. I'd better get
Mark into his bed before she came early and saw him there.
Everything nearly went right. Nearly. After all I was a beginner. I
thought it would be a good idea to carry Mark up to his room. But as I
left Lena, she didn't like that at all and screamed out her siren.
Naturally Mark was now awake, too.
It was a struggle to get the recently so dead-tired Mark into bed. And
Lena was screaming the entire time. What a chaos!
Finally I sat on Mark's bed with Lena snuggled on my arm and read him a
story. He'd probably already heard it a thousand times, because he always
knew what came next. Finally he dropped off. Oh man!
I carried Lena to the couch and sat down carefully. In my arms she was
calm, but I didn't dare lay her someplace else.
I was awakened by Mrs. Weber. "You both make such a sweet picture. You're
going to be a terrific mother some day."
What was I supposed to say to that? Nothing came to mind inasmuch as I
was still half asleep. Carefully she took Lena from me and unbelieveably
she didn't wake up.
"I'll go quickly before Lena wakes," I said softly.
##
It had definitely become colder. Under the skirt I felt the cold air. In
the apartment the thin tights were almost too warm, but now I could have
wished for heavier ones.
Heavier tights? I couldn't comprehend my own thoughts. I needed no
tights, I needed jeans. Or my other pants that were meant for winter. In
addition to other things they were made of wool, and I didn't like the
scratchy feeling at all. What would it be like if you put on some tights
under such a pair of pants? Then it couldn't scratch any more. Strangely
enough the thought of putting on a pair of feminine tights bothered me,
but in this connection not at all.
In the little house I swore about the poor illumination. Naturally it was
already dark in this season of the year. That was probably why I had
fewer problems walking along the street in a skirt. In the darkness no
one was likely to recognize me.
But now I would have liked bright sunlight. In the mirror I could barely
see anything of my make-up. Suddenly it became clear to me, why women use
different make-up for daylight and for evening. Unaware I had often
picked up information from advertisements and conversations, things that
naturally didn't interest me. Now, looking at myself, I saw where the
differences lay.
I had put on make-up in bright sunlight and was very satisfied with the
results. But now you could scarecely see anything. Did too much boy come
through now? Could someone suspect?
Although I had been proud of my make-up artistry today at noon, I noticed
now, that in fact I really knew nothing.
I removed the make-up without looking at what I was really doing. Then I
washed my face with the cloth made wet from the water in my bottle. Then
I dried my face with the second cloth.
I looked critically into the mirror. No make-up to be seen. That didn't
really mean much. Once again it was becoming clear to me, that I
shouldn't continue this game. But several objections to this idea were
present: I had debts, which I had to work off. And I simply wanted to
earn some money. Even if it wasn't as simple as I had thought at first,
it was still the best-paid job that I could imagine.
That made up my mind. For the money I could continue to disguise myself.
##
As I greeted my mother at home, one thing became clear to me: I still had
my tights on. At first I had just wanted to try out how a pair of pants
would feel over them. I had taken off the skirt and pulled on my jeans.
The sweater was mine. With all my thinking about make-up I had totally
forgotten my lingerie. I still had everything on, including the teddy. I
had merely removed the balloons.
Suddenly I got hot, then began to shiver. Could any trace of the bra part
of the teddy be seen? I still had my jacket on, but it was already open.
Would Mom notice if I went into my room with my jacket? I normally never
do that, just hang the jacket up in the hallway.
For a few split seconds I thought and then decided to take off my jacket.
After all I had worn a bra to school, and no one had seen it. And at home
I'd already worn it, too.
I ought to have given less thought to the teddy than to my legs. In
walking, my pants sometimes moved up somewhat high and my socks could be
seen. More accurately the absence of socks and instead of them lightly
gleaming nylon was to be seen.
As I went to my room, Mom followed me with her eyes. Something had caught
her attention, but she wasn't sure, what it was. That brought the look of
inspection. But I was already in my room and with a heavy sigh fell onto
my bed.
##
Crap! I forgot to set the alarm. I wanted to get started somewhat earlier
than usual so I could leave my lingerie in the garden house at Svenja's.
Now I didn't have enough time for that. I couldn't leave the things at
home, so there was nothing else I could do other than to go to school in
my sexy lingerie. At least I was mentally alert enough to pull on a pair
of socks over the tights.
Relieved I said good-bye to Mom, happy that she hadn't noticed anything.
Or at least almost nothing. I sat at breakfast differently than usual in
the effort to make sure that nothing of my lingerie could be seen. You
see, if the material of my sweater got pulled tightly across my chest,
then the semi-circular metal frame of the cups can be seen, and the
crumpled material above.
Mom noticed something as I sat there with slightly squeezed-together
shoulders, of that I am almost positive. I was looking for an excuse and
was about to say something about a scratchy pullover. At the last second
I dropped that idea. What if she were to get another one for me, and I
had to change right there before her eyes?
The problem with school of course was still there. An there was something
more added this time: In the over-heated classrooms the combination of
pantyhose and jeans were too warm. Again I was unattentive and again the
teacher noticed. But in contrast to yesterday I couldn't bring myself
back to paying attention, the feelings in my legs diverted me too much.
In the break after class I plunged to the restroom and removed the tights
and stuffed them into my pants pocket. I should have done that right away
this morning! But how was I to know, that something so thin and delicate
could be so warm?
Today was Friday, and I didn't have to work again until Monday. Mrs.
Weber didn't live alone as I had thought at first. Her husband worked out
of town and was at home only for the weekends. But I had to think of
something. The teddy wasn't really very fresh after having been worn for
several days. I couldn't put it on Monday without it having been washed.
But to solve this problem I had the whole weekend.
After school Biene and I were meeting, and I looked forward to that. Then
the world would once again be running right; Biene would be wearing girl
clothing and not I. Like it was supposed to be. And even stood in the
Bible.
##
"You're mean!" Biene shouted.
Oh man, why were girls like that? I'd really looked forward to our being
together.
"The whole time you dress like a girl, and I don't get to see it. Svenja
told me about it."
"Isn't that enough?"
"No! I want to see it for myself! I can't even imagine it." She stuck her
nose in the air.
When I went to comfort her, she turned away.
"Svenja also told me, that you like to dress like a girl. It's just me
you won't show. In case you've forgotten, I am supposed to be your girl
friend."
"But that's..." I'd intended to say 'not right.' But I recognized that I
had lost the battle. If I wanted to experience a nice, friendly Biene,
discussion wasn't going to get there. "OK, what do you want me to do?"
Immediately her face brightened. "I just want to see how you look as a
girl. Svenja says, that you can even do a good job of putting make-up on
yourself."
"I got the technique from watching Tokyo Hotel," I mumbled.
"Do you use nail polish, too?"
Nail polish? This type person even used nail polish? "Uhh," was my highly
significant response.
If I had said anything else, then I wouldn't have these fingernails in
such deep glowing pink. I could see them especially well, since just now
my hand was in front of my face applying mascara to my eyelids.
I didn't just stand around, because I had to get used to her mother's
pumps. Why did this woman have to have such large feet so that her shoes
fit me?
Well, 'fit' wasn't really the right word. They were a size too short, but
I could deal with that. The three-inch heels were not even SO bad. No,
that's not what I mean. The heels were so high that I stood there with
bowlegs. But I hadn't yet found a way to stand on the stiletto heels in a
relaxed posture. The shoes were constantly tipping to the side, and I had
to correct them with muscles that had never been used for anything else.
Even after a comparatively short time, they showed their objections to
this uncharacteristic usage with a throbbing in my calf.
I blinked and looked down at my shimmering legs. Today was a day of many
mistakes, and one of those was to tell of the disagreeable tights. Biene
thought that that had to do with the hairs on my legs. Full scale protest
didn't help, the hairs were removed. And I must admit my smooth legs, now
freshly treated with lotion, really felt good in tights.
I'd also unknowingly committed an earlier mistake. I had often told Biene
how great she looked in her jeans-miniskirt. She wore it far too
infrequently, she didn't like it. For that reason I constantly tried to
convince her to wear it. Now I had to live with the consequences, because
I was wearing it now.
I rubbed my eyelids artistically with my fingers. I'd never before
succeeded so well. I washed my hands and walked over to Biene.
"Wow!" she said when she saw me. Then she stared at me for some time. "I
can hardly believe it. Andres, you look great. You definitely have to
show me how you do that." She meant my eyelids, I thought. Or something
else?
Apparently I was right, for now I stood in pumps and mini-skirt next to
my girl friend and showed her in front of the mirror how to rub her
eyelids artistically.
"How can you do that so well?" she asked me distrustfully, as we finally
looked almost identical.
"Oh, that's nothing special. Whenever I sketch, I rub the penciling with
my fingers. It's just about the same with eyelids."
"Ahh," she went, but she didn't necessarily seem to believe me.
Then she found it inappropriate that she only had jeans on. I almost had
the feeling that she was jealous of my appearance. At any rate she
changed and then had an outfit on that wasn't much different than mine.
She wore her tartan kilt, which she loved. I liked the jeans skirt
better. Too bad for me as I was to learn.
"Andrea, I never liked that skirt, but it really looks good on you. Know
something? I'm going to give it to you. Then you can wear it more often."
Just great. Now I was the owner of my first skirt and was to supposed to
wear it often.
##
Biene was in a very good mood. Finally came the part of my visit that I
had longed for. We set about removing our make-up with a mouth-to-mouth
technique. While that was going on we were rubbing our tights against
each other. I have to say, it was a fabulous feeling. The intensive
kisses and add to that the erotic sensations of my legs. I didn't regret
having a skirt on now. I would do it again at the drop of a hat, I knew.
In the middle of our best cuddling, the doorbell rang. "Ignore it," I
whispered in Biene's ear.
But she loosened herself from our embrace and stood up. I used the
opportunity to go to the toilet. As I left the bathroom, there were two
people in the room. My heart took a nosedive into my pants -- eh, skirt.
But then I recognized Svenja. "Hi, Andrea," she said. "I hadn't expected
to see you here."
What did she mean by that? She knew that I was Biene's friend. Or did she
mean that I was wearing a skirt? She'd already seen me several times in
girl clothing. Or did she mean that I was at my girlfriend's house
looking like a girl?
Biene went into the bathroom and repaired her make-up. When she came back
out with a motion of her head she made it clear to me that I needed to do
the same. Dutifully I followed her behest.
Now developed a typical girl conversation. Both expected me to
participate. But I wasn't a girl, even if I did look like one.
A couple hours later I figured out that something wasn't right. I had
conversed with the two of them in fine fashion, and it was really fun. To
talk with two pretty girls is certainly nothing bad - or even unusual.
It's just that I chimed in on all the topics. Several of the themes,
however, were classical feminine ones. Naturally girls talk about more
than just fashion and make-up, but unlike boys, those are still some of
their favorite topics. And I spoke right along with them as if it were
the most natural thing in the world.
Finally Svenja spoke, "Oh, Andrea, before I forget it: I have a package
for you. That really went quick."
"A package?" I asked, not understanding.
"Absolutely. I bid it for you at the auction."
"Oh, yes, the clothing."
If only I hadn't said anything! I could have said: Oh, that. Or: Yes, I
know. But no, I said the magic word: clothing. My bad luck.
"Unfortunately it's too late now," said Svenja. Biene looked sad, and my
mood became suddenly better.
"But tomorrow I have the whole afternoon free," she added.
"Great, me too," Biene beamed. "You come to my house, and then we'll go
together to Svenja's."
Just perfect. The first thing to die is hope.
##
There is something positive to report about that Sunday. My teddy had
been newly washed, for a new week in lacy underwear.
That was the positive news. But this was the way the day unrolled. When I
walked to Biene's I didn't know yet that the stopover there was to change
my clothes. Into MY skirt.
But when Biene kissed me then, I wasn't upset about it any more. For such
kisses I'd gladly put on a skirt.
But to wear it on the street on a Sunday afternoon was another thing. "I
can't go outside like that!"
"Why not? You look good."
"But with my short hair everyone can see that I'm a boy." My wig was
residing in the garden house.
"Now don't make such a fuss. Your hair style isn't so great, but with the
make-up no one is going to see that you are not a girl."
"I don't believe you. No girl has a style like this."
"That's not a problem. It's cold enough for a hat, so that nobody can see
your hair."
The hat was a typical girl's affair, fluffy and bright lilac. I have to
say, with my hair brushed out of my face and with the hat, I really
looked more like a girl than with my wig. Why did my face have such a
feminine effect with a hat and a little make-up?
Biene loaned me a jacket, which only reached down to my waist. Gloves and
scarf that went with the jacket completed the outfit. Against my will I
had to admit that it looked good. Very good. Too good.
My first long walk in high heels destroyed the remainder of my male ego.
And my calf muscles. I was really happy when we arrived at Svenja's.
"Never again high heels," I swore. The two just grinned diabolically.
##
After a little small talk Svenja pointed to a box. A LARGE box.
"That..." I hesitated. "That's surely not all...?"
"Oh yes, those are all your new things. I myself haven't even seen
them. Well, open up YOUR box."
"Mmm, about MY box. How expensive?"
"I'll tell you later. Now let's first of all look at the things. Hier."
She handed me a knife.
Carefully I opened the box. In it I found innumerable plastic bags. While
I hesitated both girls attacked the contents. Soon mountains of clothing
lay on the bed.
I had to try them on. All of MY clothing. There were actually dresses in
there, but mainly it was skirts of every variety, tops, blouses and
sweaters. And stupidly enough most of the things fit me.
There were even two pairs of pants. The first was confiscated by Biene
right away. "That wouldn't look good on you." The other pants had a sewn-
on skirt. I had to try them on, and so I for the first time I became
acquainted with the first pants that had the zipper in the back. The
pants were black, made from a smooth fine material. A skirt of the same
material reached down to the middle of my thighs.
"What is that? I asked. "A pants skirt?"
"No, Dummy. Those are skirt-pants."
Oh.
##
I didn't dare count. However, I was sure that I owned more skirts than
Biene. Presumably more than both girls together. The stack on the bed was
gigantic.
"What am I supposed to do with all these things? I won't be babysitting
forever."
"Just wait a bit. A girl cannot constantly be wearing the same things."
I never got to express my point that I was no girl. It was strangled
before it came to my tongue by a glance from Svenja. It wouldn't have
even been germaine since right then I was wearing a party dress in whose
corsetlike upper half my breasts were clearly delineated. And in addition
the skirt was much wider and fuller. Not exactly a very masculine sight.
"And where am I supposed to take all these things? I can't take any of it
home, and the garden house is full of stuff."
"I've already thought about that," Svenja said. "In our attic there is
more than enough room."
"And how do I get access to the stuff to use?
"I'll always lay one or two outfits in the garden house. Then at least
the things will match each other."
"I have few worries about her," Biene threw in. "Just look how well she
uses make-up. Earlier she showed me how to do it."
That's a fine kettle of fish! Not only did she call me 'she,' she had to
add that I could use make-up better than she could. Svenja glanced in my
direction, which as much as said, 'Doesn't surprise me.'
How was I ever going to be taken seriously as a boy again? Here I was, in
a party dress and all around me girl clothes. MY clothes. And my pants
were far away - at Biene's.
Haven
- 19.05.2020
- 3
- 0
