Barbara free porn video

Barbara. Several years ago I was a middle manager in a large company and, like most ambitious people, working my butt off for every promotion I could get. Everything was going quite well until Barbara came on the scene. One day she just appeared, transferred in from a subsidiary, and I saw her walking across the road. Have you ever known Lust-At-First-Sight? I instantly absorbed her red hair framing an imperious face, her lips in a luscious red half-smile that informed the world that she was supremely confident in her looks, manner, bearing and ability. That stunning head - not beautiful in the classic way but instantly captivating to me - was supported by the longest neck I have ever seen which led into a blue silk blouse unbuttoned cheekily low to give more than a hint of cleavage over a very trim waist. She was wearing a navy-blue leather skirt which, although quite short, was fashionable and showed off her incredible long legs which strutted perfectly in high heels. That first glimpse sealed my fate: I was totally smitten with that beautiful creature who oozed more sex-appeal than 50 other women that I knew in the company, put together. As a 'rising star' several of those other women had tried to attract my attention but none appealed enough for me to stray from the straight and narrow. Now my every waking moment was filled with thoughts of this sexy new stranger. I was consumed with thought of her no matter what I did. I quickly found out which department she was assigned to and as it had two entrances, frequently journeyed through it to catch a glimpse of this heavenly creature, to instantly soak in what she was wearing; her heels, her dress and of course those magnificent legs. Oh yes, I acted so nonchalantly, but she knew very quickly and I was rewarded one day by a piercing glance that seemed to penetrate my soul and the faintest of smiles before she looked away, almost in dismissal of me. That look was enough to squeeze my innards so much that I thought I'd never be able to breathe again. I knew I was behaving like a love-struck teenager but I could do nothing to help myself. I soon found out that her name was Barbara, she was married, two years older than me, where she lived, that she was a very efficient clerical assistant and anything else I could glean about her. Whenever my secretary (a lovely girl that just did nothing for me) talked to me or the other girls about Barbara my ears homed in like radar locking a target. For over a year I resisted the compulsion to take things further and, even when we met face to face I tried not to drool and make a complete fool of myself - but I knew that Barbara knew what effect she had on me for she acted so coolly indifferent, like a queen with one of her lesser subjects. I felt so unsure of myself when she was near and, sometimes, even scared of how immature I felt in her presence. Then came another promotion for me and a challenge in creating a new department to face some technological challenges. I managed to pick most of the staff I would need from within the company so I could get things off to a flying start and, because everyone recognized the importance, other managers were happy to give me those people and suggest others that could help me. You guessed it - my boss suggested Barbara be my personal assistant. Those words froze me. I couldn't breathe or think for several moments before my brain began to thaw. Part of my mind was saying NO! You mustn't get that close to her but a bigger part was saying YES - you have to be with her! You know which part won............. We moved into our new location, freshly decorated, within a month and so began my life in heaven and hell at the same time. We all worked feverishly for the first couple of months to set everything up and started to meet our objectives faster that anyone imagined. Barbara was an absolute boon, so efficient and capable of everything I asked her to do, as were all of my team of new staff then, with time and learning we seemed to be over a hill and able to work at a slightly slower pace yet still with a high sense of achievement. Barbara was still as imperious and cool with me but much more relaxed with the other girls on the team. Being in such close proximity, I was always aware of her constant dress in short skirts and revealing blouses which were always fashionable yet usually leaned towards provocative. I studied her walk to understand her perfect posture and poise in such beautiful high heels Like most women, she would address her appearance at her desk whenever she felt the need; glancing in a mirror to adjust her hair, touch up her make-up or, worst for me, apply another coat of gloss to her incredibly attractive lips. The first time I saw her pucker her mouth and stroke her lips with that little tube of red I gazed in wonder, my mind in a whirl of imagining how they would feel against mine, what it would be like to part those lips with my tongue. I was almost addicted to catching her touching up her lips and whenever she did in my view I'd surreptitiously watch without being able to breathe. She just did it so sexily! Of course, I'd learnt so much more about Barbara through her personnel file, direct conversation and snippets of her chat with others. I knew that although she was married, her husband had cheated on her with her sister. I heard that his life was now hell and was scared stiff of what she could do to him. Despite that implied terror I found myself hating the guy I hadn't met yet also feeling a desperate hope that she would be somehow 'more available' to me, that my continual dreams of making love with this intensely feminine woman would someday become reality. Perhaps a little more of me should be understood at this point. I am and always have been a cross-dresser, I was married to a wife who totally rejected my needs as unhealthy kinks that could never be discussed again. Sure, it was my fault to have got myself into such a situation but, like us all as I now understand, I thought those needs would go away after marriage. They did for a while then I was trying on my wife's things when I could, then starting to buy my own frillies again when the need became too strong. Like most CDs I had my stash hidden at home but with a frumpish stay-at-home wife I had few opportunities of dressing for long. My big passions were corsets, stockings and high heels and as you know it takes a while to get those on, so a hurried attempt and a quick wank were not really satisfactory. To combat this problem I had taken to sometimes working late and, when everyone had gone, dressing in garter-belt and stockings under my suit and if I felt daring, adding the high-heeled boots I kept locked away in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet. It felt so relaxing and joyful to step daintily about the office and, of course, my bosses applauded my late working as such a sign of commitment that here was just the guy to be promoted. Having understood that little about me it should be understandable what happened inside me one day when, after touching up her lips without (I think) knowing I could see her, Barbara reached under her short skirt and removed her stocking! I had seen the snag in the dark nylon by her ankle a while earlier, thinking she'd go out lunchtime and get another pair of pantyhose. Yet I now knew this epitome of womanhood wore stockings and I watched in complete sexual fascination as she reached into her bag, took out a fresh stocking and stretched it up her incredibly long leg to attach to the tabs at front and back. I watched in wonder as she did it by only lifting one cheek of her pert bottom off the chair, even tugging down her skirt whilst still sitting. For me she became even more perfect and I began studying the outline of her skirt at every opportunity, seeking out the slight bumps of the suspender tabs and realizing that she wore stockings all the time except in high summer. When I 'dressed' in the evenings I was imagining how Barbara's stocking felt to her, did she love the same tug when she moved? She had a friend in the subsidiary company who used to visit her when she came to head office. Another lovely creature who looked remarkably like Barbara and they were often been mistaken for each other. Whilst she was also incredibly sexy she was nothing compared with 'my' Barbara. However, through my regular skirt 'inspections' both at the office and social events at the company I realized that both of them wore stocking as a matter of course. You can probably imagine what that did to my dreams and daydreams! Sometimes Barbara's friend was also in there with us. And sometimes in the office, working late I'd be thinking of both of them skirt-less in stockings like I was wearing at that moment. Like most CDs I'd ardently watched pretty women, noting every mannerism and learning how they walked in high heels, how they sat and everything else they did so delightfully different from us. In Barbara I had the perfect example and at every opportunity I studied her elegant steps in such high stiletto heels, how smoothly she moved and how she crossed those incredibly long legs as she sat. The start of my downfall was her lipstick, however. She must have realized what a weapon she held as she began to apply her lipstick in front of me when it seemed appropriate, using a small hand-mirror and puckering her lips whilst painting them with the strong reds she favoured, her smokey-blue eyes glancing at me now and again over the mirror. I was helpless when she did that and watched in intense fascination before I could continue the conversation we'd been having. I registered over time the triumphant sparkle in her eyes watching me as she finished by rubbing her lips together then treating me to a dazzling yet untouchable smile - I'm sure she knew how hooked I was on seeing her perform this most feminine of duties. When she did it in her office she pointedly put the gold-and-plastic tube back down in the middle of her desk and my eyes always followed its path before I could continue. Her desk outside my office was a shrine to her for me. It was always tidy after she had gone home yet one late evening as I tip-tapped through in my high-heeled boots my eyes snapped onto the tube of lipstick still sitting there in the middle of the desk. We all know some things are wrong but it felt like I had no control as I reached down and reverently picked up that simple tube. Slowly I pulled off the cap and looked at the bright red shiny stick that had so recently stroked over those incredible lips. An overpowering need swept over me and in moments I was touching my own lips with the colour, desperately trying to imitate exactly the way Barbara did it. As often happens I suddenly felt I had defiled something and guiltily replaced the cap and tried to put it back in the same place I had found it. I strutted into my own office to find a tissue to scrub my lips, later flushing the tissue to hide the evidence. However several times a week that lipstick or its kin would remain on her desk overnight and, as I was always the last to leave, even when not 'working late' I was compelled to pick it up, read and admire the colour. It became almost a fetish for me of the untouchable Barbara. Over a week or two I succumbed to the overwhelming desire to feel the smoothness of the lipstick again, to smell and taste its unique qualities. Somehow I felt closer to Barbara and her ever-present hint of perfume in the office only added to my passion. It was a Friday afternoon as we were together discussing performance figures, knowing we'd achieved them easily, that she again lifted her hand-mirror and lipstick to her lovely mouth in the midst of our conversation. As she capped the tube, worked her lips together to smooth them, then smiled at me the triumphant gleam appeared again in her eyes. "Do you really like this colour?" she asked me as the smile faded. "Oh yes!" I answered immediately. "It really suits you and your matching silk blouse and shoes," I said, realizing perhaps it was wrong to show how well I would notice such 'feminine' things. "No," she responded after a moment's thought. "I asked if YOU like it. You see it is indelible and I could see a vague hint of the colour on your lips this morning so I knew you'd tried it again as you have several times before." I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach and couldn't respond for several moments, all the while feeling her cool gaze like a spotlight on me with nowhere to hide. My mind was in a whirl testing all sorts of denial but, knowing she was seeing right into my soul and a lie would somehow destroy any feelings she might have for me I just mumbled "Yes, it is a nice colour." Barbara didn't smile but, after a long silence, said "Be at my house tomorrow at one. Goodnight." She turned on her elegant red heels to collect her coat and bag from her desk and went home early before I could think of any reply. Almost winded, definitely deflated, I collapsed into my chair and tried to think. I felt cornered, trapped and very, very vulnerable. I considered everything from resigning to running away; from feigning sickness to suicide. Slowly part of my brain came to the fore as it considered the possibilities of what might happen if I actually went as Barbara had commanded. By the time I left work I was no nearer a decision but, entirely unnecessarily, had checked her address. That night was a torment with little sleep. Even what there was left feelings of doom and gloom. However, just after mid-day I left the house, clubs in the back of the car as most Saturdays, then phoned one of my golf partners to say I wouldn't be able to make it for the game. Making up lies and excuses is not easy for me and I kept thinking of all the horrible things that could go wrong - but at least I now knew where I was going (physically if not mentally) and that was to Barbara's house. I made it there only a minute late, having to hunt through her suburb for the modest but well-tended single-story home similar in design to those around it. With a knotted stomach and feeling like I was going to wet myself any minute, I forced myself out of the car and tried to walk normally through the gate and up the short drive to her front door. All the while I was trying to think of what to say when I saw her, whether to act guiltily or try to gloss (pun intended) over my foible as an act of the moment, but my mind refused to engage any gears. As I reached up to knock the door it opened and I was face to face with Barbara. She didn't say or do anything for almost a minute, just standing, a slight hint of a smile and studying my eyes and face. Eventually her smile grew and in a very low voice she said "I knew you would come - but I'm also glad you did. Come inside." She turned and only then did I realize I hadn't absorbed what she was dressed in as I always did. Now I saw her knee-high boots, stiletto- heeled as always, their white leather in contrast to the navy-blue leather skirt she had worn that first time I saw her. Her blouse was a lighter shade of blue and semi-transparent allowing the feint hint of a blue bra beneath to be seen. As I hadn't seen the skirt since that first time nor had she worn the boots or blouse to work I remember thinking this must be her 'at-home' clothes, which suited my fantasy of her; I had never imagined her in sloppy slacks or jerseys. She led the way into a comfortable lounge and indicated for me to sit in one of two spacious leather chairs on opposite sides of a coffee table. That she really was confident I'd come was shown by the two beakers of steaming coffee already on the table in front of us. She sat after I did and I couldn't take my eyes off her long, stocking-clad legs as she faced me. I was almost scared to look at her face. "You and I need to talk, Dave," she said softly. "And the office is not the place for this conversation. Please look at me while I'm talking because I want us both to talk truthfully and not hide anything." I looked up into her eyes and was surprised to find them smiling and friendly, without even a hint of the aloofness she wore with me at work. I began to relax a little as I understood Barbara was not 'out to get me' for my indiscretions. I tried to smile back but my face muscles didn't want to behave and I could feel the heat of a blush. I felt my palm sweating and would have run out of there if my legs could have functioned. "We are alone," she said in a quiet but firm voice. "Please talk honestly so we can both find the best way forward for each of us. Will you do that, for me if not for yourself?" I nodded and found my throat starting to ease the constriction, allowing me to say "Yes, Barbara. I don't think I could ever lie to you." "Then start by telling me how many times you've used my lipstick," was her simple opening gambit and I said I didn't know but probably about a dozen times. She nodded and simply asked "why?" Can any CD ever answer such a question? All we can truly do is tell of the forces which drive us, the feelings we have when driven and the completeness we feel for getting into our 'forbidden' side. I thought for several minutes because this incredibly lovely woman who was the focus of my life deserved the best answer I could give. I started at the beginning with how spell-bound I had been at first glance and how she had become almost a drug for me despite my fighting it and how she was the epitome of femininity for me. I told her how I knew it was wrong because she was married and I was too and it was also wrong to lust after someone you work with and all those confusing thoughts just came tumbling out. Mouthful after mouthful directly from the heart - or was it the psyche? I told her about how I loved to see her putting on lipstick and, for the first time in ten minutes, she interrupted my out-pouring with "I know that part you silly man! It was so much fun to have you almost falling at my feet every time I did it." I continued after her words had sunk in and told her that I had just been compelled to smell and taste her lipstick because it had seemed a way to become closer to the unobtainable - her. My mouth was bone-dry as I talked and I was glad when she reached for her coffee for I suddenly was able to do the same. Between sips I apologized to her for my stupid behavior in not being able to get her out of my mind and my unprofessional way of treating her, that I thought of her all the time and she had become a major part of my life since the moment I saw her. She smiled warmly at me, put her mug down on the table and spoke. "Thank you for telling me all that without trying to justify it. Now let me tell you something: what you have for me is not love but total infatuation. I know from what you have said - and from the way you behave at work - because most girls go through it at least once but usually in their teens. Men, on the other hand, just fall in love or more often than not just think they have. You have not once said you love me so you obviously know as well as me that it is what I've said, just an overdose of infatuation." "However," she continued a moment later. "That you know and feel the difference also confirms for me you are not as macho as you like people to think, especially all your men work-friends. You are a nice man, Dave. You always treat everybody properly, fairly and make people feel good about themselves. We all love working for you but you and I cannot pretend there is nothing between us any longer. I've loved having you worshipping me and being able to make you go ga-ga when I paint my lips or adjust my stockings - Oh Yes, I've seen and felt you watching me so don't look so surprised. I'll even be honest to admit that I wear skirts and high heels because I know I have you under my spell and it is very flattering - and very naughty of me," she added with a slight blush. "I shouldn't have encouraged you but I did love your attention." Her words unburdened me of all much of the guilt and anguish that had been burning me up inside and I suddenly felt incredibly good to know that she understood and forgave my foolishness. I tried to thank her for telling me, for knowing what I was feeling when she interrupted me again. "You are a nice person," she said again. "You also have a very feminine side to you that is very appealing to me and I want to see more of it." Although this was a compliment it also hurt a little as 'we men' don't like to be thought lacking in any 'macho' area. But it did make me see that Barbara was a very insightful woman with a depth of compassion that I knew nothing about. In that moment of comfortable silence she reached beside her and retrieved her compact, opened her lipstick and applied it while her eyes mostly watched me staring at her glossy red lips. She chuckled a sexy, throaty laugh and said "Lean forward," as she also leaned over the table towards me. I did so without thinking and she was suddenly coating my lips with the same cosmetic! Then her eyes stared into mine with frank understanding. "I hope that make you feel even more feminine so we can talk some more of that side of you." I couldn't move nor could I think. I was just aware that this wonderful vision who I doted on had just applied her lipstick to my mouth after doing her own - and she wasn't mocking me! I was trying to think of something - anything - to say when she chuckled again. She cleared her throat then fixed me with her eyes. "I know more than you think about your feminine side too, Dave." She let me ponder those words for a second then added "Do you really think we could work so closely and I wouldn't know about your stockings and heels in your filing cabinet? Did you think I'd never spot a glimpse of hose above your socks when you stretched back in your chair?" The bottom dropped out of my world with her revelations but still she kept the soft friendly smile on her face and her eyes didn't loose their friendly compassionate gaze. Again I was without words, my mind stuck once more in a soggy morass of guilt and shame. And still wearing the lipstick she had put on my mouth, that was in my smell and my taste didn't ease the situation. Suddenly she stood up and left the room. Her move released me from the spell and I was able to stop leaning forward and let go a tiny bit of the tension that gripped me. I sucked in air as though it was the first breath in ten minutes. The sound of her heels announced her return and she stood beside me, still with the same smile on her face. What commanded my attention was the cardboard box she held in her hands. I recognized it immediately as the one from my office that held my white boots and hose. "Don't be scared," said beautiful Barbara. "I really do want to see more of your feminine side so take off your slacks now and put on your stockings and boots." I was no more capable of doing what she said that simply disappearing - which is what I would have chosen at that precise moment. She reached down and took my hand in hers and gently pulled me up to stand facing her. I was strangely aware that this was the very first time we had actually physically touched and how soft and warm her skin was against mine. I didn't move as we stood toe to toe looking into each other's eyes. I felt her hand undo my belt and the clip at the waist without registering what she was doing. She let go of my hand and undid my zipper and almost in slow motion I felt the material slide down my legs to puddle about my shoes. She kissed me very softly, our lips barely touching but her eyes locking mine. As she pulled back she said "Take your shoes and socks off, Dave, and do as you are told." Her words were scarcely more than a whisper but the command was only to be obeyed so, with trembling hands I sat and removed my lower clothes. She raised the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head to drop it on the chair back. With me almost naked She opened the box and passed me the garter belt and stockings. Holding my eyes she said "Put them on now." With shaking hands I complied, sliding each stocking into place then standing to hook the belt around my waist and tab the tops of the stockings to the belt, all in total silence broken only by the whisper of nylon and satin sliding over my skin and my raspy breaths. "Now the boots please," was also accompanied by the same confidential smile and the same warm, sexy voice. I complied immediately by sliding each foot into the pointed toe of the white boots then lacing up the fronts to my knees. Barbara took my hand and pulled me to my feet again, looked slowly down my body then told me "Walk round the room so I can see how you do." To say I was self-conscious to be dressed like this in front of this incredible woman - in front of any woman for that matter - would be the understatement of the century, but I did as she said. "You handle such high heels very well, Dave. Your walk is very feminine and I'm glad you don't try to step too wide. However a couple of things spoil it. Just walk a bit more," and she left the room for a minute or two. On her return she told me to take off my jockeys, saying they were just out of place and held up some sexy black panties that really caught my eye. I had to unhook the suspender tabs to comply but was soon sliding the satin panties up my nylon-clad legs to settle about my hips. By this time, despite my inner turmoil, I was starting to erect with all the stimulation. Barbara smiled and told me "Seems you might need a bigger sized pair of panties!" Next she handed me a black leather skirt and, finding the zip already open, I drew it up my thighs. Although it was too small for me to do up the clip at the waist the zip came up with no problem. It all felt so incredibly sexy! I smiled tentatively at Barbara and she chuckled again. "This is more fun than I imagined," she bubbled as she handed me a black bra. She helped me put it on, even clipping up the back. It was very tight and rode a bit high but she soon adjusted the shoulder straps and tugged it into place. She ignored the empty, limp cups and held up a gauzy black blouse and, with my arms inside the long sleeves, did up the black pearly buttons on the front. "Come with me," she said leading the way out of the room and up the hallway. I looked at her beautiful figure and realized she had dressed me very similar to herself. Moments later we were in her bedroom where she sat me at the dressing table but facing into the room. "Lipstick obviously makes you feel good but let me show you how proper make-up works!" She began working on my face with a fine skill and an array of cosmetics. After about ten hedonistic minutes she was finished but reached for a blonde wig from a Styrofoam head. She pulled it onto my scalp and critically adjusted it before teasing it with the handle of a long comb. She took both of my hands and pulled me to my feet, smiling all the time, then led me to a full-size mirror on the bedroom door. "This is your true feminine side," she announced pointing at me in the mirror. I'd never win any prizes but how I looked at that moment - even more, how incredibly sexy and feminine I felt - will stay with me forever. I stared in joy and wonder gripping Barbara's hand tightly with mine for several minutes. Eventually I turned to her and pulled her into my arms to hug her. "Thank you! Thank you so much for this Barbara. I cannot tell you how special you have made me feel." She hugged me back for a while then sprayed me on the neck with a little of her perfume before leading me into the kitchen. She put the kettle on and prepared more coffee then told me to sit down and enjoy being a girl for a while. I did just that. We spent the next hour or two with her teaching me the little female mannerisms and correcting when I wasn't doing right with my 'feminine side.' She treated me as another girl and suddenly there was no barrier - I was starting to learn about and understand the real Barbara, not the artificial image I had created of her in my mind. We talked about important things, we gossiped and we laughed. I have never felt so free or so alive as I did that afternoon. Everything comes to an end and I knew this would before Barbara said it. She knew I knew. She retrieved my clothes from the lounge, put them into a plastic bag and led me to the front door. Before I knew what was happening she opened it, pressed the bag into my hand along with a little plastic purse, kissed me on the cheek and said "I'll see you on Monday. Thank you for coming and I hope you've enjoyed yourself as much as I have. You can keep the clothes as a present. Now don't look so worried because everything will be OK." The door shut slowly in my face and I suddenly realized that it was six O'clock and I was dressed and made up as a woman and standing outside a house in a strange neighborhood. I hastily found my car keys in my pocket and hurried into my car where I felt a little safer. Gradually my thoughts became clearer so I started the car and drove to a deserted, wooded area where, after several minute luxuriating in how I felt and admiring my face in the mirror, I began to look to tissues to clean off the make-up. It was then that I discovered again the little plastic purse Barbara had given me. Inside were cleansing cream, some lipsticks, mascara, face powder and tissues, along with a little note bearing one word: "Enjoy!" Well, I cleaned myself up and changed back into my shirt and slacks then drove to the golf club where I showered. I did bump into one of my friend who asked why I hadn't made the game then, leaning closer and sniffing at the perfume still lingering on me, smiled knowingly, touched the side of his nose and walked away. I had a solitary beer at the bar then drove home. Sunday was filled with mixed emotions of joys, memories and guilt - especially of guilt! But the day was soon over. Monday I really wondered what the day would bring as I strode into the office, first as usual, and hid my stash - including the wonderful new items - in my filing cabinet, wondering as I did so how Barbara had managed to open it. I never found out the answer. She breezed in a few minutes after me with a penetrating smile and a cheery "Have a good weekend?" as she took off her light jacket to display a fawn leather skirt and matching silky low-cut top. White heels completed the sexy picture. I smiled back and said "The best I've ever had. I met someone extremely special who taught me so much about myself and how I should live life." Barbara smiled again with incredible warmth and with "You must tell me all about it some time," went off to get some coffee brewing. From that moment on my trance was broken. I could treat Barbara as a very dear friend and a colleague and we worked incredibly well together. I no longer virtually stalked her or studied her every movement although one highlight of my day was seeing how ravishing she looked each morning and I had no fear of complimenting her on her appearance. That time was never mentioned after I said a very big and sincere thank you again to her that evening before she went home. I gave her a large bottle of the expensive perfume of which she had worn a cheaper copy, telling her it was to make up for how much she had wasted on the weekend. She replied that it was far from wasted, kissed me on the cheek and, giving me the cheekiest of smiles, told me not to work too late! I was still fascinated to watch her apply lipstick - and the wicked light in her eyes as she gazed into mine always caused a chill up my spine. Eighteen months later Barbara's friend left the subsidiary for a much better job and two months after that poached Barbara from me. We had a tearful few moments alone in my office but I made sure she had a bonus for all her work and a great leaving party. We keep in touch every now and then and I'm often told not to work too late - at least not too often. Every time I think of that era I thank my lucky stars for Barbara's compassion and maturity. My obsession with her could have ruined her life as well as my own and those close to us. Instead she gave me a beautiful memory and the strength to grow to more promotions. I still treasure the skirt, blouse and wig she gave me and I will never part with the black satin bra and panties. I still 'dress up' when I can but no longer feel the freak my misguided wife described. I fear we will divorce soon for if I try to enforce my dressing at home I'm sure she will make a public fuss in spite. Whatever happens, through and because of Barbara I can now accept who I am.