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Not What You Expected 3 free porn video
Not What You Expected-3-First Two Days
By Joannebarbarella
There ought to be a law
When my mother entered the kitchen it was just as well I was facing away
from the door. I had already had one severe shock today and this was
heart-attack material. Somebody should tell the gods or goddesses that
they are only allowed to do this to mere mortals once a day. There ought
to be a law.
I knew I was going to have to turn around and I took a couple of really
deep breaths to steel myself for what I was sure would be an unnerving
and possibly disastrous experience.
In the meantime Cathy said, "Hello, Marie, what brings you here?"
"Well, hello, Cathy dear. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you
were off to Sydney for a while and I just wanted to make sure Tommy was
OK while you were away."
There was a little bit of bitchiness in the remark. My mum still hadn't
quite got warm and cuddly with Cathy. A mother with an only son could be
possessive on occasions. She had brought me up on her own too. I never
knew my father, except as a good-looking young man in my mother's
wedding photos and a couple of others of them together. He had gone to
Papua-New Guinea to take up a new job when I was about six months old,
but had been killed in an accident on a construction site before we
could follow him. She didn't remarry, although I could remember "uncles"
calling on her when I was young.
Cathy explained about the airline cock-up and how she had come home
rather than wait for hours at the airport.
"I thought Tom would be here too, when I saw his car in the garage, but
he's probably gone off with some potential client."
"Yes, well I'm sorry about barging in but the garage door was open and
so was the laundry entry."
"It's OK, Marie. You know you're always welcome. Would you like a cup of
tea now you're here?"
What was she thinking?
"Oh, you haven't met Tanya. Sheer coincidence, she's an old, old friend
of mine, and we bumped into each other at the airport. We've known each
other for ever but I haven't seen her since she went overseas, so it
seemed like a good idea to fill in the wait by coming back here to
freshen up and I did so want her to meet Tom. I'm sure they'd have a
lot in common."
I thought I was going to die as I turned to face my mum. I wasn't ready
for this yet. Then I saw she wasn't wearing her glasses. My mum is a
very attractive woman, even at close to fifty, but she's also quite vain
and hates to wear her specs unless absolutely necessary, like for
driving or reading at home. She's as blind as the proverbial bat without
them. We might just get away with this.
"Hello,M.. Marie. It was such a pleasure to meet Cathy again. I'm just
sorry I haven't met Tom yet, but we've been catching up on old times." I
almost called her "Mum"!
She peered at me. "So nice to meet you dear. Have we met before? You
look familiar."
"I don't think so. I'm sure I'd remember if we had, and I only got back
from England a couple of months ago. Can I interest you in a sandwich
while you're waiting for Tom?"
Talk about daring.
"Oh, no. I don't want to be any trouble. Anyway, now that I know Cathy's
here, he'll be in good hands when he gets back. I'll be on my way. Tell
him I dropped by, Cathy." She was looking kind of embarrassed and I
couldn't figure out why.
"I will Marie, but are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea before
you go?"
"No, no, it's all right. I'll give him a ring later. I'll be on my way
and leave you girls to have a nice chat."
So saying she exited the same way she came in.
Cathy was only barely holding herself in check and she nearly exploded
once she had made sure my mum was really gone. She was chuckling away to
herself.
"Did I miss something? I just thought I was dead lucky to get away
without a confrontation there."
By now, Cathy was holding her sides and spluttering.
"Oh, Tanya, darling, we were, but it wasn't only her eyesight. We're
both wearing sexy black stockings and high heels with, in your case, a
pink satin dressing gown, and in my case a housecoat. No woman goes
around the house like that. You know what she thought, don't you?"
"No. I wondered why she seemed to want to get out of here."
"She thinks she caught us in some kind of high jinks, in flagrante
delicto, a lesbian affair!" and she howled with laughter.
After a bit I started howling too. "She doesn't know how close to the
truth she is," I got out with a struggle, and we collapsed in each
other's arms, chortling. I thought how nice it was, woman-to-woman
contact, the delicate aroma of a feminine perfume, the feel of satin and
silk together and the conjunction of breasts, the sensation of my bra
under the dressing gown and the rub of our nylons one against the other,
while my heels tipped me forward into the embrace.
When we stopped laughing we carried on holding each other and the only
male part I had left started to assert itself. She pulled the front of
my dressing gown apart and undid her housecoat, letting it drop to the
floor. I pushed her back against the kitchen table and she guided my
pulsing member into its docking bay. There's something deliciously
wicked about having sex in odd places, particularly when you're wearing
high heels, sheer black stockings, a suspender belt and a push-up bra,
long hair brushing against your cheeks and hoop ear-rings dangling. It
adds that je-ne-sais-quoi to making love and I resolved to do it more
often as she leaned back and wrapped her legs around me.
Eventually we got our sandwich.
She made a phone call to a beautician she knew who did house-calls and
arranged for her to come to our house at ten the next day, fully
equipped to give me hair extensions and new nails. She took me upstairs
to go and get dressed (again).
At first I didn't know why. Then she told me we were going to get
collagen in my lips, have my ears pierced, and buy me some shoes. There
was no way I could last any longer without shoes. I begged her not to
make me go out but she insisted, reminding me I had promised to obey
her.
"But I can't," I pleaded. "I've never spoken to anyone outside. They'll
pick me in an instant."
"You really are a scaredy-cat, aren't you? Look, we just fooled your
mother. You spoke so like a girl. She may be blind but she's not deaf. I
was amazed how girly you sounded. You just have to do more of the same.
Anyway, I promise you I won't put you in any situations where you have
to say very much."
So I acquiesced weakly, allowing her to take charge of me. She let me
wear the same skirt that I had on this morning, making me blush when she
told me how nice it was and making me promise to let her borrow it
sometime. She gave me one of her tops, a sexy coral-pink job to match my
lipstick, with a scoop neck and three-quarter length sleeves with a
flare at the ends and "GRRRL" in sequins across the front. I put it on
and fell in love with it. It was really fun having somebody to share
with. I had never had a fashion consultant before.
She lent me a big black bag, filling it with make-up and tissues and a
purse with money (in case of emergencies) and tampons for authenticity.
She insisted I had to be a girl from the skin outwards. Even though I
knew I was a girl I had to admit that I lacked some of the training that
females absorb from infancy.
She lied to me. Yes, the first things we fixed were my ears, and I
admired the diamond studs we bought and inserted. Then we went to a
salon and I had my lips filled with collagen. It was strange at first,
but after the therapist had spent a few minutes massaging the injections
into my lips I was admiring these pillows that made me look like
Angelina Jolie or a super-model and when I applied my lipstick to them I
was in ecstasy. What with the transformation of my eyebrows and now
these magnificent lips I knew there was no going back, not that I had
any wish to do so.
It made me as vain as hell. Talk about my mother. I stopped at every
mirror we passed and admired myself. Cathy said she was wetting herself
looking at me, I was so gorgeous. She couldn't wait to kiss me.
Then we went shopping for shoes. I had to talk in the stores, because
the assistants would comment on my choices and I had to say whether I
liked this pair or that. After a while I realized that no-one was
commenting on my voice and I relaxed a little. I ended up with fifteen
pairs from three stores. They were absolutely divine, nearly all heels,
pumps with pointy toes, sandals, strappy, you name it, and a couple of
pairs of flatties. Cathy paid with her credit cards and said I could pay
her back when mine were changed to "Tanya".
I thought we would go home then, but she dragged me into store after
store and we bought underwear and skirts and tops and dresses. I was
mortified at first when I had to use the changing rooms to try on
outfits, but again, after the first three or four times I realized that
nobody was running screaming for the police because a man was in the
ladies' dressing room and actually began to enjoy myself. Primping and
preening in front of the mirrors in the stores gave me a real thrill and
parading around for my wife while she all but clapped and whistled and
cheered (a slight exaggeration) was a blast.
Finally we went into a smart little caf? and had a nice meal with a
couple of glasses of wine. The waitress treated me as just another
female customer. Yes, there is a difference between the way they treat
men and women. Obviously they don't flirt with us, but they do discuss
the order in more detail and pay attention to our choices.
Eventually we headed home weighed down with all this stuff that we had
bought for me. It was amazing, though. She had proved to me in one
afternoon that I could pass as a woman in ordinary circumstances. Even
though I had done that before, but without speaking to a soul, she had
liberated me.
"I'm going to make you give me a fashion show," she said, "but not
tonight. Tonight I want to make love to you again. You make me so
horny."
She helped me take off my make-up and moisturized my face. She turned me
to the glass.
"Look," she said.
I looked. Even without the cosmetics I looked like a girl. The job she
had done on my eyebrows had transformed my face and the collagen in my
lips seemed to have doubled their size. Only a girl could have lips like
that.
We showered together. She insisted that I kept my wig on and used a
shower-cap to protect the adhesive. It was all I could do not to take
her there and then, but I knew there were special things coming. We
dried each other and she went and got two baby-doll nighties from her
drawers. She gave me a lemon one and kept a black one for herself. I had
worn a nightie before of course, but it's special when you have someone
to show it off to and with my breast-forms still in place my shape was
so female.
I paraded around the bedroom in the floaty little chiffon garment,
mentally picturing the day when my breasts would be all me and my bum
and hips would be all curvy. And a vagina as a centre-piece, neat and
smooth, waiting to be penetrated and filled, waking every morning to be
my true self for the rest of my life, no more hiding in the shadows.
I just had to go to Cathy and give her the biggest hug and kiss ever.
How lucky I was to have such a wonderful wife and lover. What I expected
to be a calamity had become the best day of my life. My heart brimmed
over and tears ran down my face, tears of pure joy, as I used my new
lips on her, and then I pulled her into bed and we made love again. But,
you know, the best part was lying in each other's arms afterwards and
cuddling and holding her precious face in my hands until we fell asleep.
I woke up before she did the next morning and did my business,
luxuriating in a shower with lavender bath gel, making myself smell the
way I always wanted to. I slipped into a silky dressing gown borrowed
from her side of the wardrobe, a vibrant royal blue. I didn't think she
would mind.
I selected a brand new pair of mules bought yesterday, wriggling my toes
into them. I brushed my hair and just couldn't resist coating my
wonderful new lips with that coral pink colour. I smiled at my
reflection and saw that she liked me too. It's so good to finally be
comfortable in your skin after so many years of distaste.
Tripping oh so lightly down the stairs I made us coffee and poured
juice, taking a tray back up to my still-sleeping darling. It's so hard
for me to describe just how wonderful I felt that morning, in love with
her and in love with myself. I didn't know there could be so much love
in the world.
I put down the tray and stroked her cheek gently to wake her. As soon as
she opened her eyes she came into my arms and embraced me.
"I can take this every morning," she said. "You look so pretty and you
smell so nice. Sit here and let me enjoy looking at you."
So we sat there, me on the bed and her in it, and drank our juice and
coffee, all the while gazing at each other like Juliet and Juliet.
Then she got going, a human dynamo. She showered and dressed and then
she gave me a plain white bra and panty set, no stockings this morning,
just a fairly demure summer dress with a wide boat neck and short
sleeves, knee-length, full-skirted and patterned in black-and-white
swirly spiral thingies. It was one of hers that I recognized and really
liked. She finished my clothes with a pair of white sandals with a low
heel.
"God, it's going to be fun," she said. "I've got all these clothes we
can share. We're just about the same size, you know, except for the
shoes."
Then she sort of shocked me by pulling off my wig, leaving my fairly
short male hair-cut exposed. This was something I never wanted to see
again, but she managed to comb and brush it into a style that looked
vaguely unisex, if you had eyes like my mum's that is.
"It's only for a little while, darling. When the extensions are done
you'll know it was worth it. All right, do your eyes and brows and
that's enough make-up for now. I think we might ask her to do a glam job
on you when she's finished and maybe we'll go out tonight."
"Cathy, please don't make me go out tonight. I need time to get used to
all this."
"Tanya, dear. I won't force you, but wait till you see yourself when
it's done, and I have a perfectly super little dress and some great
shoes in mind for you. I don't think you'll be able to resist showing
yourself off to the world."
Soon after, the doorbell rang and two girls came in with loads of gear,
trays and packets and boxes and hairdryers and things. Cathy greeted
them and introduced me as the victim of what they were here to do. They
looked me up and down.
"Whatever persuaded you to do THAT to your hair?" asked the one called
Sandra.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I sort of mumbled, shamefaced.
"OK, well, what do you want us to do with it?" This was Liz.
Cathy jumped in and said we had talked about it and what did they think
about something a little shorter than shoulder-length, framing my face
on both sides, with a fringe across the forehead, but short enough to
leave my eyebrows exposed, and with maybe a bit of a curl under, oh, and
we thought honey-blonde.
They walked around me and ran their fingers through my hair and allowed
as how that would probably work quite well.
"What about the nails?" asked Liz, sort of turning up her nose at what I
had. "How did you ever get them in this state?"
I improvised. "I was having all this trouble with them chipping and
cracking while I was overseas and one day I just got frustrated and cut
them right back."
Cathy jumped in again.
"She used to keep them about half-an -inch long and they were very nice.
Could you restore them to that in a nice shade of burgundy? Oh, and
don't miss the toes."
I'd never given a thought to my toes.
"Do you think you could give her a nice evening face when you've
finished with her hair? We might want to go out tonight."
"No problem," Sandra and Liz sort of leered at each other. They had us
sussed as lezzies. Maybe they were of the same persuasion.
Then they started in on me. The next five hours were a mixture of heaven
and hell.
To be continued.
Mei
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