Andy
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Andy 22 free porn video
The long kiss from Biene had transported me into a euphoria. I was
brought back to reality by this imbecilic bonnet, which really cramped
one's style. We walked hand in hand to the others in the marketplace.
Now I received more attention than I had the first time, and
significantly more than I was comfortable with. Because now everyone
knew that I was wearing the dress. There was a lot of giggling and a few
stupid remarks, but nothing all that bad.
While I was calculating whether I could actually sit down in these
clothes, I thought about the strange situation. Here was I in girl
clothing and no one was getting excited about it after the novelty had
worn off. Should I perhaps go to school as a girl?
And instant later I felt a tug at my waist and my apron fell to the
ground. "You dolts," Biene scolded shrilly, "don't you know what a
costume like this costs? Do you want to pay a few thousand euros?"
Once again I didn't know what to do and simply stood there. Were these
things really so expensive or was Biene just trying to shame Adrian? At
least he was just standing there like a lamb.
"Pick it up," Biene commanded him.
"All right," Adrian said abashed. "I didn't really know these things
were so expensive."
He took the apron from the ground, which in this area was halfway clean.
Under Biene's black glare he put it around me and fumbled for some time
at my back. Biene briefly inspected the result and nodded graciously in
Adrian's direction.
Then she came over to me and fumbled a little more at my back. "So,
another knot and no one is going to get that off again so quickly." Then
she addressed herself to my bonnet and made a little knot under my chin.
"Good, now that's secure, too."
I didn't know whether I really ought to be enthused about the knots. At
least I wasn't going to get out of these things without a mirror or
someone's help. Not that it made much difference, because all the
underskirts were knotted in some fashion. To say nothing of the
foundation which was laced in my back in some way unknown to me.
How was I supposed to go to the toilet? I couldn't get out of these
things by myself, and raising the skirts high didn't appear to be a
practical approach. In addition the stockings were attached over the
underwear and I could hardly unbutton them without seeing what I was
doing.
Just how long was I going to be wearing this costume? Was I going to be
allowed to take it along? And if not, how was I supposed to get home?
Biene had sat down on a little projection of the wall and she was
rubbing her leg. Apparently she had overexerted it and now it hurt.
I looked at Svenja and walked over to her.
"Sexy outfit," she said when I got to her. Then she added softly, "You
just can't live without a skirt?"
I looked at her reproachfully -- what else was I supposed to have done.
Then I asked her, "Can you do me a favor? I can't walk so good in this
dress. Can you ask someone from the museum how I'm supposed to get home.
My dirty clothing is gone."
"Why do you want to take off the dress? You look so sweet. And you've
gotten married," she giggled. (back to the German joke of 'being under
the bonnet.')
"Svenja, that wasn't voluntary! And it's not exactly comfortable. I've
halfway gotten used to the bodyshaper, but the underwear scratches and
everything is so rigid."
"OK, I'll ask what they might have as a substitute. Would you prefer a
dress or a skirt?"
"Svenja!!!!"
Before I could grab her, she quickly sped away.
##
For a few seconds I stood alone on the marketplace, since everyone was
going to the bus. Where was Svenja? At least it wasn't raining any more.
But in spite of all the clothing, I was slowly getting cold. And the
cold was awakening my bladder enough to express his opinion. In the not
too distant future I was going to have to pee.
While leaving a few of my classmate took pictures with their cell
phones. I was curious how I would look. At least my outfit matched the
half-timbered construction style of the houses.
Finally Svenja came back. "What'd they say?" I asked impatiently.
"You can wear the things home and bring them back tomorrow. At any rate
you need to take a big detour around the manure pile, otherwise you'll
be out 1,800 euros."
"1,800 euros! Biene was right that these folk costumes are expensive."
"Actually that is still cheap considering how much you are wearing."
"I'll be glad to let you buy it for yourself," I replied somewhat
acidly.
"It's OK, Andrea. We really ought to rush, if we don't want the bus to
leave without us."
Although it wasn't sooo far, I didn't want to walk home in this get up.
So I scurried along, which brought a smug smile from Svenja.
##
A bus is not built to have a dress like mine on board. I got up the
steps to the driver, but then I stood there at a loss at the end of the
narrow aisle that led to the seats.
The bus driver didn't let that bother him. "You can sit here in the
front." He motioned to the seat at the very front which was folded up so
people get board the bus. "Just yank it out."
I did that and sat down. Even that wasn't so simple, since the seat had
two arm rests. I just barely fit between them. All the time I was afraid
that I might damage the precious costume. I was accustomed to the fact
that my entire earnings were consumed by girl clothing, but I would have
to work a long time for this.
Then something occurred to me and I spoke to the driver, while I
observed the "No talking with driver" sign. "Ehh, could I perhaps get
off a little early?"
"Girl, I'm not a taxi!"
"But - if I show up like this in school..." My voice faded.
"Well, girl, why'd you get dressed up like that then?"
"That wasn't my idea. I had to demonstrate this wedding dress."
"What, you're a bride as well?"
I could actually hear the malicious laughter of my classmates behind me.
At any rate the bus driver didn't know that I was a boy -- if Klaus &
Co. would keep their mouths shut.
"Couldn't you simply stop a bit before we get there?"
"OK, you are a pretty smelling bee that I can't turn down."
I hoped he didn't mean "smelling" literally, because it reminded me of
the blossom water. Once reminded I could detect my flower aroma again.
Yet another reason not to go to school again.
The driver stopped the bus a few blocks before the school and let me
off. Even that wasn't so simple, because standing up out of the seat was
significantly more difficult than sitting down.
Finally I had freed myself and could get off. When Biene tried to
follow, the driver said, "No, my girl, I have to deliver all students in
an orderly manner."
Suddenly he was halfway able to speak the Queen's English.
A minute later the bus was gone and I stood alone on the sidewalk. Now
my idea didn't look so good in that I was visible in my costume to all
passersby. It certainly wasn't inconspicuous, the bonnet alone insured
that.
When I started out to walk home, something else occurred to me, and I
came to a quick stop. My key, like everything else in my pockets still
lay with the dyers at the museum. I couldn't go home, because I couldn't
unlock the door.
I had to support myself by leaning against a house, because I suddenly
didn't feel very good any more. And I needed to pee more urgently than
ever.
I pulled at the bow of my bonnet to at least loosen it a bit. Not a
chance. Even meticulously examining the knot brought no improvement.
Biene had meant well.
What was I supposed to do now? One thing was clear, I couldn't simply
stand here in this folk costume. Go to school? Home and wait until my
mother came? Back to the museum to get the contents of my pants pockets?
##
I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks. In my confused
condition I was happy that this time no black tracks would be visible.
For some unknown reason that halted the river of tears.
But more than ever I still had to take a leak. At the intersection there
was a corner planted with a few high bushes. I pushed through to the
back always worried that something might happen to the costume.
The bushes covered me halfway decently. I had attempted to grasp my
skirts, but there was simply too much material. I only got my hands up
over my knees.
Then I had tried to untie the knots in the apron. I had tried to twist
it around onto my belly, but it was tied to firmly; it wouldn't budge.
And to untie the knots on my back was hopeless.
That was the moment at which the first tears came. Out of hopelessness
and from rage that I couldn't help myself.
Suddenly a small child was standing in front of me. I hadn't noticed it
through my swollen eyes earlier. I still couldn't see well enough to say
whether it was a boy or a girl. At any rate, kindergarten age. I hadn't
dared dry my tears on the sleeves of my blouse.
The child looked at me a few seconds and then said "Here," while it
pressed something into my hand. A paper tissue.
I dried my eyes and could see better then.
"Thank you."
"Why are you here in the bushes?"
"Because I really need to pee."
"And did you?"
"No, it won't work."
"Why not?"
"I can't untie the knots."
"Let me try once."
Naturally the child couldn't do it, the little hands couldn't open these
heavy knots.
"It really won't work."
"I know."
"Why don't you just pee? Your skirt is open at the bottom."
Perfect children's logic. "Because my underwear will get wet."
"Then take it off."
"I can't get to it."
"I'll help you." Before I could answer anything, the child had knelt and
was groping around under my skirts. I was really feeling strange when a
voice came from under the skirt, "Don't wriggle so much." At the same
time I felt the little hands on my upper thigh.
I had become completely rigid from fright. The child couldn't ....!
"There is something over your underpants."
"That holds the stockings. Can you unbutton it?"
"Don't know. I'll try."
I felt the hands touching me. "Yes, it's working." Then I felt as first
one stocking, then the other slid down.
But even then the problem wasn't completely solved. I couldn't reach my
underpants. But then I felt how they were being drawn downward. I was
paralyzed.
Now the child under my skirt had come out. "It's really dark under your
skirt. You can't see anything. But now you can pee. I have to go,
Mommy's waiting."
I was unspeakably relieved that there had been nothing to see.
This was no time for reflection, I had to piss! The underpants lay
around my ankles. I stepped out of them and squatted. Then I absolutely
couldn't hold it any longer and just hoped that nothing was getting wet.
Immeasurably relieved I stood up again. Quickly I stepped aside so that
nothing would get wet. Then I picked up the underpants. I had no chance
to put them on. That was the release for a new spate of tears.
##
Somewhat later I had calmed down. I had to get out of this clothing.
This just couldn't go on.
Now first of all I rolled the stockings down neatly around my ankles so
that they lay there like pads. That was difficult enough, but now I
could walk without steping on them.
While accomplishing that it became clear to me that I really didn't have
any place to go. There was only one practical solution: to school. I
should never have gotten off of the bus. I walked the short distance
carrying my underpants.
The schoolyard was desolate, which was what I wanted. Naturally all the
students had gone home, because today there were no regular classes.
What now? I could check to see if someone was in the office. But who
knows to what kind of new problems that might lead. I didn't
particularly want to turn up there in a wedding gown, even if it was a
really old one.
Maybe the locker room? There was often stuff left lying around. With a
little luck I might find something suitable.
The entrance to the gym wasn't locked. I walked quickly to the familiar
boys' locker room. Nobody there. Just like it was supposed to be.
I looked around in the lockers. I did in fact find a pair of gym shorts
and in another one a jersey. So far, so good. Now I just had to get out
of these things.
In the toilet there was a mirror over the wash basins. For the first
time I saw myself, even if only my upper body.
It was a miracle that anyone had recognized me at all. My head was
completely changed by the bonnet, and the super tiny waist could never
belong to a boy.
Now, since I could see the knots under my chin, I could untie them. Not
really all that simple because everything was reversed in the mirror. I
was immensely relieved when I finally got the bonnet off.
I hadn't noticed that I was sweating so much. My hair was wet. In the
mirror I looked significantly weird. Without the bonnet my head did not
match my upper body.
I hoped that things would go with the knots in the apron strings like it
had gone with the bonnet. Then I'd have a chance to get them undone. But
it wouldn't work; they were simply too tight. Possibly my own attempts
were at fault for this.
So I was stuck. A ballpoint pen that someone had lost gave me a new idea
for trying again.
And it went shockingly well. I poked it into the knots and pulled a
little, and right away it began loosening. In short order the apron was
off. I gave a sigh of relief. Still it took a long time until I made it
out of the dress, and then came the five underskirts. I didn't have a
watch, but to get this far had taken at least a half hour. Just to get
half undressed!
With the body-shaping foundation I gave up. I couldn't even find the
knot or knots. Well, OK, I could keep that on. It really hadn't been
bothering me much; I'd become used to it.
I pulled my underpants on again and felt almost normal again without the
enormous quantity of material. I picked up the gym shorts I found and
pulled them on. Oh, oh, that won't do. The legs were nearly ten inches
too long, and I would have fit in the waist several times over. Because
the material was made of slick artificial fibers I couldn't even roll up
the legs, they just wouldn't stay. And the pants wouldn't stay up
anyway.
The jersey was the exact opposite: It was so small, that I couldn't
squeeze into it.
After the job of getting out of the costume, now this flop! I couldn't
go in my linen bodyshaper and woolen underpants out on the street!
I went through all the lockers again. Nothing. There was just one more
possibility: The girls' locker room. Maybe there was something
inconspicuous there. A gymsuit would be the greatest.
I actually did find something. In one locker with a lock that wasn't
completely shut. But it was what I wanted least of all. At the Christmas
festival there had been a dance number by the girls. What I found was a
costume from that. I surely couldn't put that on!
I looked at it again. It was made of black Lycra. That was positive,
because I liked that very much. Black wasn't bad either, because it
wasn't very conspicuous. But with that the inconspicuous side of things
came to an end. The sleeves at the top ended in large puff
constructions. The hem had a bright red glistening band of sequins and a
couple inches higher and parallel a silver band of sequins. The zipper
was in the back and in front it diverged in a triangular shape downward.
Not exactly an inconspicuous silhouette. And then there was still a
large white gleaming stalk of flowers across the breast, which
contrasted powerfully with the black. I could still remember how great
that had looked on the stage under the spotlight.
At that time the skirt had also fascinated me. Naturally it was just as
black and had below on the hem the same red and while sequins. But it
was very short and bell-shaped. In dancing it had flown high, I liked
that very much.
But could I go outside in something like that? Above all not across the
school yard in the girl things. This time I wouldn't have a bonnet to
hide me, and I would be wearing clearly identifiable girl clothes for
anyone to see. And emphatically sexy items.
I felt a chill. So I picked up the dance tights that lay there, the last
of the things I found besides the shoes, which at first glance were much
too small. Good quality nude tights, which gleamed brightly. But that
was a lot better than the scratchy wool stockings. But first that meant
I had to take off my little boots and my stockings -- and put on the
tights and then the shoes with their long laces again. When I had
finished that I had become really warm and had just barely managed it.
Hmm, the black boots would go well with the dance costume. Should I at
least try it? In the final analysis had had no other choice, if I didn't
want to have to put on the folk costume again. And there was no way I
was going to do that. I was happy to be free of it. Even if I regretted
only being able to see my upper half in the mirror.
The skirt with its broad rubber waistband was simple, but the jacket had
the zipper in back. But since it was made of Lycra and easily twistable,
I managed it with some tugging.
In the mirror I could just see my upper body again. The elastic material
showed two things much too well: That my waist was much too slender for
the costume and my rather prominent breasts which were emphasized by my
foundation garment totally without any stuffing required. I hoped that
once the body shaper was gone everything would resume its original
position.
Looking down and around me I was only aware of the skirt standing out
fairly far, which didn't allow me to see my gleaming legs. With every
movement the skirt would swing along.
Could I go outside like this?
But what other choice did I have. I had to get my things that were in
the museum. Above all my keys and wallet.
I just couldn't drag along the folk costume. I had no pockets, and there
was just no way to move the many parts involved. Certainly not on a bus.
Finally they were very valuable, and I really didn't want to work to pay
for a folk costume that I would never wear again.
At least that wasn't a problem. I had an empty locker and a lock. Since
it was open I could put in a new combination. That way the costume
wouldn't be injured. In fact the things barely fit into the locker. I
had to push pretty hard. I hope nothing was hurt by that.
I looked at myself in the mirror one more time. Again, my head didn't
fit what was under it. But I had no make-up. Could I do something with
my hair? It had gotten dry again. I wet it down a bit and tugged it
around into something halfway like a girl's hair style, more fitting to
the costume.
Then I went to the door. In the flexible costume I could move with ease,
certainly in comparison to what I'd just taken off. That was so good,
that I felt much better than was really called for.
It was so wonderfully easy, the skirt swang so beautifully....
Suddenly I found myself on the street. Absentmindedly I had exited
without bothering to check out around me. Now my courage left me, but
there was no going back. In no way self-assured I went to the bus stop.
I had no money, and my student bus card was in my wallet. This was
illegal. I'd never done this before.
A bundle of nerves, I sat on the bench at the bus stop. It wasn't just
my outfit that worried me, but the getting a bus ride without paying for
it. I had a valid card, but I didn't have it with me.
Anyone could see me sitting here. And not just a few did see me. Till
now, praise God, no classmates. I really wouldn't have known how to
explain why I was sitting her in a show dance costume. In a very
feminine, sexy costume. No girl would have gotten on a bus dressed like
this.
The bus came every half hour. Naturally I had to wait 25 minutes. Far
too many people saw me there. Oh man, I hoped this would work!
I even got a few attentive whistles from some older youth, but that
didn't really bother me much. At least they didn't come up to me, that
would've been all I needed.
I had scarcely had that thought, when someone sat down beside me.
"That's a great costume."
I looked at him. A boy, two or three years older than I and considerably
taller. And from those considerations I answered, "Thank you."
He was more than just a little curious. "What's that for?"
"Showdance group at our school," I said truthfully.
"Have you just been practising?"
In order not to have to lie aloud, I just nodded.
"You look great in that. I know just a few girls who have such a great
figure," he said as he was looking at my narrow waist.
Once again I didn't know what to say. By now I had already spent a lot
of time as a girl, but I was still completely awkward. It's true, I'd
hardly had any experiences with boys apart once with Ken.
It didn't bother him that I hadn't answered. "What are you doing
tonight?" he asked straightway.
"Sorry, I have no time."
"Maybe tomorrow."
"No."
"Saturday?"
"N..."
"Please, don't say 'no,'" he interrupted me. "I'm inviting you. What
would you like to do?"
"I don't know, my mother won't allow me to."
"Just how old are you?"
"Fifteen."
As quickly as he had come, that's how fast he left again. I wasn't clear
on exactly what my opinion was. Whether I was relieved or not. Or
bitter.
Hmm, he really had looked good.
Nonsense, what's that supposed to mean? He was just another guy.
##
In boarding the driver looked me over and waved me on. Surely he hadn't
recognized me? I knew him of course, there weren't that many bus drivers
around here.
What would happen if he had recognized me? I always rode the bus as a
boy, and now I was wearing a skirt. Not just any old skirt either, but a
sexy costume. People didn't make allowances for something like this so
easily.
With very mixed feelings I got off. Thank God the ride had been very
short. I noticed that the driver followed me with his eyes. I walked
away quickly. At least that had gone off quite nicely. It was actually
fun. How would it be to stand dressed like this on stage? Could I do
that this Christmas...?
No, that wouldn't work. Everyone in school knew me only as a boy. No,
that wasn't right. My class had seen me in an old wedding dress. Did
that change things? What would they say, if they were to see me like
that?
Now I had to cope with one more problem. The gate was closed. Of course,
the museum was closed in winter except for groups. What now?
I saw someone carry supplies into the restaurant. I walked over to him
quickly. "I forgot my stuff earlier."
"I can't help you with that. I'm just delivering beer here. But go on
in, the manager is around somewhere."
That's exactly what I did. I quickly found him. In contrast to the
deliveryman he stared at me. "Well, what do you want?"
"I left my things in the museum."
"There's no one there now."
"But..."
"Young lady, I can't help you."
"But my keys are in there, and without them I can't go home." My voice
was surprisingly whiny.
"Why didn't you pay attention better?"
"Somebody pushed me into the manure pile!"
"Oh, that was you?" All at once he looked less dismissive. "That's
another story. Come, we'll look for your things. Where did you lose
them?"
"At the dyers."
"Good, that's not so far."
We went through the restaurant into the museum. He walked quickly but I
didn't have any trouble keeping up. A couple minutes later we were at
the house in front of which everything had started. Distrustfully I
looked at the manure pile - and shuddered.
"Cold?"
Only now did it occur to me that the thin costume wasn't exactly warm.
Till now I had been too diverted. But earlier with a little sun it
hadn't been so cold. I nodded in agreement.
Inside we found my things. Naturally without any clothing.
"Don't you have a jacket? You're shivering!"
It wasn't just the cold. Most of all it was fear. With my girl friends
or with Mrs. Weber my costume didn't really make any difference. But
here I was afraid. For some reason I couldn't fathom that anxiety had
gotten stronger, although school had really been the most dangerous
place, and after that the bus stop. Here I was actually safe.
But talking to myself didn't help anything. My anxiety got worse and
worse. After all fear isn't logical.
"You can't go home like that. You'll catch your death of cold."
In spite of my need for warmth I thought, 'Just don't come up with a
costume, homemade or not.' Of course I didn't actually say anything. I
was totally intimidated. At the same time it didn't occur to me that I
was behaving completely normally. For a young girl.
I hadn't noticed that he had walked on. Now he returned with something
in his hand. "I couldn't find anything else that would fit you. You're
so slender. Here is a poncho; it'll keep you warm."
He game the a classic poncho in the typical colorful South American
style. I liked it right away. And it was SOFT. I pulled it over my head
immediately.
"Homemade?"
"No. I don't belong to the museum. That's a souvenir from a South
American vacation. Pure alpaca wool."
"That's great! So soft!" At least I sounded as enthusiastic as I felt.
"I'm glad you like it. It looks good on you. You look better in it than
my daughter."
That sounded very sad. Was she maybe...? I asked him, "Is she...? I
mean..."
"No, nothing happened to her. It's just that we've argued. Now she has
taken up with a ne'er-do-well and is gone."
"Oh." Nothing more came into my head.
We walked back and were soon again in the restauant. There I pulled the
poncho off again. "Thank you very much, I'm a lot warmer."
"No, keep it on. You need it for your way home. And actually you can
keep it. For me it is a disagreeable memory and it really does look good
on you."
I couldn't see myself of course. Only later did I figure out what he
meant. The way the poncho ran down to a point emphasized my broad,
swinging skirt and really showed my narrow waist to good advantage. If
you didn't look at it just right, you got the impression it was even
smaller than in reality.
"But I can't accept that. That was surely very expensive..."
"Nonsense." And with that he shoved me along out through the front
entrance.
Trisha
- 18.12.2020
- 7
- 0
