Ben And Marsha free porn video

Ben and Marsha I met Marsha in the spring of my senior year of college. It was a blind date set up by my roommate and one of Marsha's girlfriends. For me it was love at first sight. I am not sure what was going through Marsha's mind. I suppose you could call her feelings for me love, though of a very unusual variety. We did the usual undergraduate dating ritual; a movie followed by a pizza. I did not have a car at the time so Marsha drove. She drove a new BMW, and it did not take long for me to figure out that she had a rich daddy. After the pizza she took me back to my dormitory and we went up to my room. It was a Friday night and my roommate had gone home for the weekend so we had privacy. Once inside my room, Marsha came on to me like a cat in heat. Her tongue was in my mouth. Her hand wrapped around my growing erection. It was wonderful. I had never been with a woman before who took on the role of the sexual aggressor. In all of my prior dating experiences I had struggled to get to first base. It seems that every girl I dated was either indifferent to my advances or preoccupied with saving their virginity for someone other than me. Marsha quickly undressed me before removing her own clothes. I just stood there a bit dumbfounded, my cock at full mast. Soon we were on the bed. Marsha climbed on top of me and began kissing me hard. Her right hand wrapped around my penis again and in a matter of seconds I was spilling cum all over myself. "My but that was quick. I was hoping you would last a little longer Ben," said Marsha. "I ... I am sorry Marsha. It just felt so good to have you doing that. I better go clean up the mess." I ran into the bathroom and used a wet washcloth to clean myself. My penis has shrunk back to its normal rather small size. When I went back into the dorm room, Marsha was laying on her back on my bed. She was naked, and her legs were spread in a wide V, fully exposing her pussy to my gaze. She wiggled her index finger toward me, beckoning me to come forward. I had visions of mounting her like a stud and driving my penis inside her, giving her a good sound fucking. Sadly, my little member was not up to the task and still hung limply between my legs. Marsha looked me up and down and smiled. "Come here love. Give me a kiss." I went forward and bent to kiss her lips. Her hands went up and she held my face away from her mouth. "Not on my mouth hon. I want you to kiss me down there." She pushed my head down toward her pussy. While I had never actually touched a girl's pussy before, let alone kissed one, I was certainly familiar with such things, as boys my age tend to talk about little else but sex. At first I was a bit repulsed by the smell and taste, since that part of the female anatomy serves a dual role; reproduction and waste removal. She was quite slippery and wet. Soon my cheeks were pressed tightly against her inner thighs, as my lips and tongue explored her vagina. Marsha was rather vocal, telling me what to do; letting me know what felt good and what did not. I discovered her clitoris for the first time and it became apparent that it was the centerpiece of her sexual pleasure. I must have licked and nibbled her sex for at least half an hour. She had several orgasms, or at least I assumed they were orgasms for I had no prior experience with that. I was nearing exhaustion when she finally released her grip on my head and allowed me to come up for air. My lips and tongue were sore from the exertion. My face was smeared with her fluids and the smell of her sex filled my nostrils even after I withdrew from her pussy. I sat on the edge of my bed and looked lovingly into Marsha's eyes. I smiled. "That was nice Ben. With a little training you could become very good at oral service." "Th ... thanks Marsha. I have never done anything like that before and I was not really sure what to do." "You just do what I tell you to do Ben, and we will get along fine." "Yes Marsha, of course. You just tell me what to do, and I will try my best to please you." By this time my limp penis was showing signs of life. It was not as hard as the first time, but it was definitely growing. "Ben, do you ever masturbate?" "Gosh Marsha, that is an awfully personal question." "Ben, we just had sex. We are both here naked. I would say that entitles me to ask personal questions, wouldn't you?" "Yes I guess so Marsha. Yes sometimes I do. Sometimes I masturbate." "I want to see you do it now Ben. Do it for me, ok?" "Right now, in front of you? I have never had an audience before Marsha. I would be too embarrassed." "Look Ben my dear, you have already had one orgasm in front of me. This time, instead of me using my hand, I want you to use your hand. Do not make such a big deal out of it. Just do it." "Yes Marsha, if that is what you really want." So I started pulling on my penis. I squeezed and pulled and ran my hand up and down the shaft. Slowly I got harder. It took quite a while and my arm was starting to tire from all the pumping action but finally I could feel it starting. I began to moan as cum started to boil up inside my penis. Marsha was watching, studying me intently. As I was about to explode she said, "Catch it in your other hand Ben. Do not make another mess." I did as instructed, shooting a good sized glob of semen into the palm of my left hand. I stood looking at Marsha, waiting, not knowing what to do next. "Lick it off your hand now Ben." I looked up startled. "What? You want me to ......" "Lick it up Ben. Clean up your mess now." In hindsight, this was one of those major turning points in a person's life. I could have, perhaps should have, said 'fuck you' and gone to the bathroom and washed my hands. But Marsha was so sexy and she was the first girl I ever had sex of any kind with. I did not want to loose her on our first date. I wanted to see her again. So, I obeyed her. I bent my head down, stuck out my tongue and lapped up the puddle of cum from the palm of my hand. I wanted to gag, to throw up. It was so alien for me to do this. I know some girls like to suck cocks; like to swallow cum, but I am a boy and boys do not do this unless they are gay or something. After watching me swallowing my own warm semen, Marsha got up and put her clothes back on. I stood there sort of dumbfounded. She turned to me and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Good night Ben. I had a nice time tonight. I hope you did too." "Y ... yes Marsha. It was wonderful. It was the best date ever for me. Thank you so much. I hope we can go out again soon." "I will call you. Do not call me, ok?" "Yes ok Marsha. I will wait for you to call. Good night Marsha" "Good night Ben." A week went by as I waited and hoped that Marsha would call me. I had time to take stock of things; to think about the future. I was about to graduate from a third rate college with a degree in accounting. I had crummy grades; my cumulative GPA was 2.2 on a 4.0 scale. I had taken the CPA exam and failed it miserably. The best jobs for accounting majors are with the big CPA firms, but that door was clearly closed to me. I was realistic enough to know that my best shot at employment was as an entry level bookkeeper, the lowest rung in the accounting ladder. I grew up in a small town in Nebraska, raised by a single mom. We survived due to her hard work, but we certainly never prospered. I worked summers for college money and between that and student loans and low income grants, I managed to get through. My college loans were nearly $100,000 and I knew it would be many years before I could ever hope to be debt free. Fully grown, I was five foot six inches tall and weighed 130 pounds. I was anything but athletic. I was healthy as far as that goes, but was certainly not muscular. It is no wonder I never had much luck relating to the opposite sex. I went on line to try to find out more about Marsha. There were quite a few hits on Goggle. She was from Pittsburgh, PA. She was a debutant of sorts. Her family seemed connected with a number of businesses and appeared to be quite wealthy. She had four brothers, all older, and was the only girl in the family. I daydreamed about Marsha. In my dreams we were married and living in a fancy house in Pittsburgh. We had tons of money and drove expensive cars. There were servants in the house. It was a life of luxury such as I had never known. Finally after ten days Marsha called. She made a date for that evening. She picked me up at my dorm and drove over to a small town about ten miles away from campus. We stopped at a store and she bought a bottle of wine and some snacks. She had a reservation at a motel. We settled into the drab room and she poured us each a glass of wine. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed. We kissed. Her hand went into my crotch again. I was very erect and ready. Any hopes I had of engaging in sexual intercourse with her were soon dashed. She undressed me. She played with my erection for a while. I was getting close to a climax, when she replaced her hand with mine. She grabbed my wrist and worked my hand up and down, as I squeezed my penis. When my climax approached I was once more told to catch it, and then to eat my own semen. When I was finished Marsha took off her clothes and spread her legs. Knowing that penile penetration was impossible, I got on my knees on the floor and put my face between her legs. My session of oral servitude lasted a long time. She was relentless. She had many orgasms as my tongue flitted against her little clitoris. We spent half the night engaged in Marsha's unusual form of sex. I was able to masturbate two more times, always licking and swallowing my own emissions. My face was between her legs for hours as her appetite for cunnilingus seemed never to be fulfilled. Finally, both exhausted, we fell asleep on the bed in this seedy motel room. The next morning we showered, put on our dirty clothes and drove back to campus. Once more Marsha told me not to call her, but to wait for her call. We had three more dates before graduation. Each time the sex involved me giving Marsha oral sex, while she watched me masturbate and eat my own cum. I know it sounds strange, but I liked it. I liked licking Marsha's pussy and giving her pleasure. And I liked the pleasure I got from masturbating in front of her. There was something about Marsha that filled a need for me. And I guess I was filling her needs too for she did keep calling and we did keep seeing each other. At the graduation ceremonies Marsha introduced me to her parents. She called me her boyfriend. They were a handsome very well dressed middle aged couple. They took us both out to lunch at the local country club, where her father said he had reciprocal privileges. We had an elegant and very expensive meal. The conversation dealt with our future plans. Marsha was going to Chicago where she would start law school in the fall. It seems her father and grandfather and brothers were all lawyers. I indicated that I would be searching for an accounting job, but had not secured anything yet. Her father asked where I would be settling after college. I said that I was not sure. The local Nebraska economy was not that great, and I thought maybe I would have better job prospects in a bigger city. Her father gave me his business card and said to call him and that he would help me find work. While we engaged in these pleasantries in the country club dining room Marsha, who was sitting next to me, reached under the table and started to play with my penis. I concentrated on acting normally, pretending nothing was happening. She gave me a devilish grin and kept stroking my now hardening cock. Thankfully dinner ended before I wet my pants or I can not imagine how embarrassed I would be. We drove back to campus and said our goodbyes. Marsha would be driving her car back East, while my mother would drive me back to small town Nebraska. My college days were ended. It was two weeks after graduation, and my efforts at finding work in my home town had proved futile. I decided to give Marsha's father a call. I got his secretary. He was unavailable but she took mother's home phone number and said he would call me back. The call back came the next day. He was quite cordial and said that he had lined up a job in the Chicago office of one of his businesses. He quoted me a salary which was a little more than I had hoped for and I immediately said yes. I was told to report for work the following Monday. I had a job! While we lived in a fairly small town in Nebraska, it did still have Amtrak service, so I took the train to Chicago. The company I was to work for had arranged for me to stay at a hotel for a week until I could find an apartment. While I was rather intimidated by the hectic pace of this large city, I managed to get everything arranged without getting lost or mugged. I found an affordable apartment near an L station. After studying public transport maps, I figured out the route to my new job. It involved riding the elevated train to the loop and then changing to a bus that took me to the northwest side where I would be working. It all fell in place nicely. I was able to get around fine without a car. I got settled in to my new job. Thankfully, it was a basic a bookkeeper's job, so it was not beyond my level of competence. The people at work were nice to me, but I suspect some of their kindness was due to the fact that the owner of the company had hired me. At any rate I performed my job adequately and everyone seemed pleased with my work. My social life was non-existent. I lived in a nice area with lots of young singles. At night the local bars were packed with people like me. I tried to play the role. I would buy a girl a drink, and attempt conversation. But in the end, I always went home alone. I could not compete with the lawyers and bankers and athletes. No girl was interested in this short scrawny bookkeeper from Nebraska. Failing to find any females interested in me, I resorted to masturbation to relieve my sexual tensions. The first time I did it in Chicago was shortly after moving into my little apartment. I just sat on the toilet and used my hand to bring myself off. I caught my emissions in my left hand and sat and stared at the puddle of spunk in my palm. I thought about Marsha. I wished that she were here with me. I know it sounds sick and disgusting, but somehow I felt compelled to eat my cum again, knowing how pleased Marsha would be if she were here. I fell into that pattern. Eating it became a part of my little ritual. I started doing it every night. Then it went to morning and night. I would sit in my bathroom twice a day and force myself to swallow the slime which spurted into my hand, as I engaged in this ritual of self pleasuring. I was not happy. I was surviving, making a living. But after all the deductions my pay was barely adequate to pay the rent and buy essentials and make payments on my student loans. There was never any money left at the end of the week for luxuries of any sort. But my unhappiness was not simply due to my economic situation. I was unhappy with my sex life, or lack thereof. I took pleasure in my masturbatory activities, but also felt guilt when it was finished. It is not normal for a 22 year old to do that sort of thing and certainly not normal to swallow his own spunk. I guess I have always been unhappy about my body, my physique or should I say my lack of physique. Over the years I had tried to gain weight and muscle mass by eating more and exercising but it never seemed to make much difference. If I really worked at increasing my caloric intake I could gain two or three pounds but the weight seemed to be manifested in tummy fat rather than bigger biceps. It was early September when Marsha called. I had been in Chicago for the whole summer and was well settled into my pathetic routine when one Friday night I got a call from her. "Ben? It's Marsha. I am in Chicago, getting ready to start law school. I want to see you." "Hi Marsha. That's great. I have really missed you. I was hoping I might hear from you again when you started school. Where are you?" She gave me an address on Lake Shore Drive. I splurged and took a taxi. It was a very upscale condominium building with lake front views. There was a doorman in uniform. He showed me to the elevator. Her unit was on the top floor. I had barely said hello when Marsha was on top of me right on the floor of her entryway. She was pressing her body against mine, sliding around and rubbing as she kissed me deeply. Her hot wet tongue reacquainted itself with my mouth. I immediately got an erection. She pulled herself off me and, grasping my wrist, pulled me up and led me to her bedroom. It was palatial. I swear her bedroom was bigger than my whole apartment. She quickly undressed as did I. My rather small penis was as hard as it gets but she was focused on her own pleasure so mine would have to wait. I was between her legs with my mouth for most of the evening, taking her to several orgasms. Finally she relaxed her legs, allowing me to withdraw from her wet pussy. I sat back and reached for my penis which remained hard. Marsha reached out and pulled my hand away. "Naughty naughty! Don't do that Ben." "But Marsha my love, isn't it my turn? Didn't I please you?" "I will let you know when it is your turn Ben. If you persist in touching that thing, I just might have to give you a spanking." Her words gave me a rush. An image flashed through my mind. I was on Marsha's lap being spanked on my bare bottom. I felt my penis throb. I had read about such things, but never before considered that I might actually like it. With a grin on my face I purposefully reached down and began to stroke my penis. In an instant I felt the sharp sting of her palm as she slapped my face. I was startled. There were tears in my eyes. "Ben, I told you to leave your nasty thing alone. I am not going to tell you again." I hesitated. It was another of those critical moments when I could have gone down one of two paths. Whether right or wrong, I choose the path of least resistance. I let go of my cock and got back down between her legs, using my lips and tongue as best I could to please my beautiful princess. I spent most of the night that way. I lost track of the number of times Marsha climaxed, but I certainly knew the number of times I had an orgasm; none. I spent the night in her bed, serving her insatiable lust. On Saturday morning she filled her sunken bathtub with warm water and bubbles and heady feminine smells. It was a huge tub; large enough for two. Marsha bathed me lovingly. I just relaxed and let her pamper me. It was such a nice contrast to our night of sexual pleasure for her and denial for me. It seems that it was finally my turn to receive some pleasure. She carefully washed my penis, handling it in a business like way and not causing me any more sexual arousal. When she finished soaping me, Marsha took a razor and shaving cream. As we sat in her bathtub she lathered my face and very carefully gave me a nice close shave. I do not have much of a beard and usually only shave a couple times a week, but she said she wanted me nice and smooth so that my whiskers would not scratch her pussy. After finishing my face Marsha shaved off the handful of hairs sprouting from my chest. I started to object but decided to remain passive and let her enjoy pampering me. Then Marsha slid down to the other end of the tub and pulled my right leg out of the water. She lovingly lathered it using both hands to encircle my leg. Then she carefully shaved off all my leg hair. She repeated the process with my left leg. She came back up to me and shaved the hair under my armpits. When she was finally finished the only hair left was that on my head, my eyebrows and lashes, and my pubic hair. Thank god she did not want to shave me there. She drained the tub and brought several large fluffy bath towels to dry us both. Again, I stood passively while Marsha carefully dried me with the towel. It felt different to be smooth in places where I previously had hair. After toweling me dry, Marsha took a powder puff and patted powder on my skin. The powder was scented. It smelled nice. I ran my hands down my bare chest and legs. The smooth silky feel was not unpleasant. Marsha combed out and blow dried my hair. I normally part it on the left, but she fussed with my hair, combing some hair forward into a little bang and putting a part down the middle of my head so my hair came down to just cover my ears on both sides. When she was finished Marsha stood facing me and pulled me into a deep kiss. It felt so nice, with my newly smooth and powdered body pressed tightly against Marsha's soft feminine curves. "Ben darling, I want you to stay with me for the weekend. I assume you have no other plans." "No Marsha, there is nothing on my schedule except doing laundry and ironing and maybe buying some groceries." "That can all wait Ben. I want us to have fun this weekend." "That sounds wonderful Marsha, you such a very special girl to me. I would love to stay the weekend with you." "You are a very special girl to me too Ben. We can have so much fun together." "But Marsha, I did not bring any change of clothes with me. The only clothes I have are what I wore all day yesterday." "Oh that's no problem Ben. I am sure am sure I can find some of my stuff that will fit you. We are about the same size." "But Marsha, I can't wear your clothes, even if they might fit alright." "Don't be silly Ben. Of course you can wear my clothes. Haven't you ever heard of the unisex look? Don't be so old fashioned Ben. This is not Nebraska. We are in Chicago. People are more sophisticated here. You see guys wearing unisex clothing all the time." "Well, I guess it would be alright then Marsha. Jeans are jeans, as long as they fit me. Yes! I will stay the whole weekend and borrow some of your things to wear." "Good girl! We are going to have so much fun Ben. I can't wait to get you dressed so we can go out and hit the shops together." We went back to her bedroom and Marsha began to rummage through her closet and drawers. She was humming a tune as she sorted through piles and racks of her clothes. Her closet was huge and every space in it seemed to be filled. I sat on the bed as Marsha picked out something for me to wear. The first item she tossed on the bed was a pair of pale blue satiny panties. "I can't wear those Marsha. Don't you have any cotton underpants?" "Sorry Ben, but I do not wear cotton panties. Mine are all like this. If you like I can give you a different color." "No that's ok Marsha. If it is all you have, I guess I can wear these today. It's not like anyone will see them after I am dressed." "Good girl! Here is the matching bra." "A bra? I don't wear bras. I don't have breasts. Why would I wear a bra Marsha?" "They are a matched set silly. All of my panties and bras are matched sets Ben. That is what I wear in case you have not noticed." "But can't I just wear the panties, and not the bra?" "No, you certainly may not Ben. It is a matched set and the bra and panty are made to be worn together. You should be thankful that I am letting you borrow them and not be so picky about it." "Ok fine. I will wear the damn bra if that is what you want." "Yes Ben. That is what I want. Now try them on for fit." I pulled the smooth shiny panties up my freshly shaved legs. As I pulled the panties up over my hips, my penis was pulled up until it rested against my lower belly. You could see the outline of my male equipment under the nylon panties. "That will never do Ben. Push you penis down between your legs so that it does not bump out like that." I slid my hand down the front of the panties and tucked my penis and balls down between my legs. The front of the panty looked smooth. There was no indication that they were being worn by a male. "That is much better Ben. Now put on the bra please." I remembered Marsha would put her bras on backwards so she could hook them together in front and then rotate it all 180 degrees before putting her arms through the shoulder straps. I tried that with the blue bra and it worked fine. There were three hooks and eyes to fasten and then I was in. It felt strange having something tight and compressing around my chest. It was not uncomfortable; just different. "Turn around Ben. Model your pretty underwear for me." With considerable embarrassment, I did a little twirl so she could see me from all four sides. Then I sat back down on the bed as Marsha resumed her closet search. She came out of the closet with a white blouse and a pair of blue jeans each on hangers. She handed me the blouse first. It was a heavy white cotton oxford cloth very similar to the fabric in the dress shirts I wore to work. I started to put the blouse on as I would my own shirts but something was wrong with the fit. Marsha started to giggle. "You have it backwards silly. It buttons in back, not in front." I realized my error and pulled my arms out of the sleeves, turned the blouse around and slipped my arms back into the opposite sleeves. There were nine buttons in back and it took me some time and fumbling to get them all buttoned but I did manage. Why on earth would they ever make a shirt with buttons in back? No wonder it takes girls so long to get dressed! The blouse had a high collar which Marsha called a Mandarin collar as it was similar in style to some traditional Chinese fashions. The long sleeves ended in wide cuffs which had four buttons. Once the sleeves were buttoned it fit rather tightly around my wrists. Overall the blouse fit fine although it was rather loose at the bust line for obvious reasons. I sat back on the bed and began to pull on the jeans. They were very tight going up my legs, but unlike the denim in my old jeans, this fabric seemed to have a little stretch to it. I managed to get the jeans up over my butt. I stood and tried to zip them up but they were about two inches too small at the waist. "These are too small Marsha. I can't get them zipped." "The jeans are not too small Ben. You are just too fat. I know just the ticket. Let me find a waist cinch." That is the first time anyone accused me of being fat. I have always been this scrawny underweight guy. I mean I only weigh 130 pounds soaking wet. How can she accuse me of being fat? Marsha came back and handed me the waist cincher. It was a stretchy spandex and nylon thing about a foot wide which wrapped around the waist and fastened with about a dozen hooks and eyes. Before I could put it on, I had to pull the jeans down and unbutton the lower buttons of the blouse. Once that was done, I sucked in my gut and wrapped the cinch around my waist and began the slow process of hooking the two ends together. It was very tight and my waist was considerably compressed by it. Finally I got everything back in place and buttoned up. The jeans fit much better now that the cinch had better defined my waist line. I stood up and as I started to walk I nearly fell on my face. The jeans were much too long and my bare feet kept stepping on the cuffs of the jeans. "Marsha I do not think I can wear these jeans. They are way too long for me." "They will be fine once you put shoes on Ben. They are meant to be worn with shoes with a heel." "But even in my sneakers I think they will still be too long." "Well you are not going to wear sneakers Ben. I will find something with a little more heel for you." Next Marsha handed me a pair of socks, or I should say stockings. They were a white nylon stretch fabric and came up to my knees. I realized it would have been easier to put the stockings on first before my jeans, but I managed to get them on eventually. What Marsha found was a pair of front lacing black oxfords which almost looked like a man's dress shoe except they had a four inch block heel. I sat back down on the bed and let Marsha put them on my feet. They seemed to fit fine. She laced them and tied the bows just like a salesman would do at a shoe store. I stood up. The jeans hung fine now. They covered most of the high heel and the cuff was about an inch off the floor. I took a few tentative steps in the four inch heels and managed not to fall on my face. It was challenging to walk in them, but after a little practice I seemed to find my balance. I was very aware of my added height. Having always been self conscious of my small stature, it was sort of nice to be five foot ten instead of five foot six. Then she got the phone call. "Hello." "Hi Daddy. Yes Daddy. Yes he is here. Yes all night. No. No he did not do that Daddy. I am fine. I won't get pregnant Daddy. Yes Daddy. Yes, I understand. No, I promise Daddy. It will not happen again Daddy. Yes Daddy. I love you too Daddy. Bye." "It was my father. That bastard doorman sold us out to him. He knows you spent the night with me and he is furious. You have to get out of here Ben. Right now please. If you are not gone in five minutes the doorman will call my father again. I am sorry Ben. But you have to go. Please hurry. I grabbed my wallet and house keys. I could not get them into my jeans pockets as the jeans were skin tight. I stood looking helplessly at Marsha. She handed me a black leather purse. "Put your stuff in this Ben." "Yes good. That will work. Goodbye Marsha. I am sorry about your father. I do not want to make trouble for you and your family." Marsha was practically pushing me toward the front door. "Bye Ben. I will call you." I took the elevator down to the lobby. I walked quickly hoping to avoid the doorman. My high heels clacked noisily on the marble floor of the lobby. He was there still wearing the silly doorman's uniform. He stared at me with an odd grin on his face. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and I exited the building. I walked up to the corner to get away from the doorman's eye. I opened my purse and checked my wallet. I had enough money for a cab so hailed one and gave him the address of my apartment. I got back into the safety of my apartment without anyone I knew seeing me wearing girl's clothes. At first I wanted to just get out of Marsha's clothing and put on something masculine. But I hesitated. I walked into my bedroom and looked and myself in the long mirror. The way she had styled my hair looked distinctly feminine. The blouse I was wearing was unmistakably feminine. I could see the outline of the bra even through the heavy oxford cloth. I looked at my tightly compressed waist which seemed to help define my hips and certainly made my tight jeans fit. I looked down at my feet. You could not see much of my shoes but it was clear that I was wearing high heels, even though the styling of them was rather masculine. I decided to stay dressed for a while. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of white wine. I normally do not drink that much and it was still morning, but today it seemed appropriate. I looked in the black leather purse which Marsha had given me. In addition to my wallet and keys the purse contained a number of Marsha's things. There was a tube of red lipstick, several containers of eye makeup, a condom, two tampons, and a compact with mirror and some kind of caked powder. I suppose most men are curious about all the feminine things which girls get to experience but we do not. At any rate, on a whim, I decided to put on a little of her makeup, just to see how it felt. I went to my bathroom and set the contents of her purse on the vanity. I tried the lipstick first. My hand was shaking and I did a pretty messy job of it, but I did manage to paint my lips bright red. I could taste the lipstick. It was sort of a waxy taste, neither good nor bad. There was some purple eye shadow in the purse which I used next. I was unsure how to apply it. Just using my index finger I rubbed some onto my eyelids. It did seem to enhance my eyes, making them look bigger and I guess more attractive. I put some powder on my cheeks and a little blush to give them more color. So this is what a girl experiences every day when she "puts on her face". It sure is time consuming. Everything about being a girl seems to take longer, and cost more than just being a guy. But it was rather fun to literally "walk in her shoes" just once to get a feel for what femininity is all about. I stayed dressed until bedtime. I busied myself tidying up my apartment, washing all the dirty dishes and doing two loads of laundry and ironing. It felt good to do these chores which I normally tend to put off. There was something about doing "feminine" household chores while dressed in girl's clothes which seemed to fit. I actually enjoyed the work instead of dreading is as was usually the case. At bedtime, I carefully got undressed and put all of Marsha's things in an empty drawer of my chest. The panties, the bra, the blouse, jeans, waist cinch, stockings and high heels were all lined up neatly in the drawer. I took a shower and scrubbed off the makeup before hitting the sack. I gathered all the makeup and put it back in Marsha's purse, placing that in the drawer as well. As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I kept thinking of Marsha. I saw myself between her legs again. Except I was not wearing my clothes; I was dressed as a girl. I was her lesbian lover in a way. The scene kept repeating itself in my mind; always I was making oral love to my darling Marsha, but the outfits I wore kept changing. I was wearing jewelry now. I had earrings. My ears were pierced. I had breasts. My bras were filled now. Thank god it was only a dream, or so I thought at the time. I hung around my apartment Sunday, hoping Marsha would call. She did not. Monday morning I got dressed for work as usual, did my morning commute and walked into the office about twenty minutes before starting time. My boss was already there. He called me into his office. He told me there was a budget cutback, and they had to let me go since I was the most recent hire. I was shocked. Things had been going so well at work. The last thing I expected was to be unemployed. I asked about references and my boss said that they would be happy to verify my prior employment. I was not quite sure how to interpret that. It did not seem like a very resounding endorsement. I was given a severance payment of three weeks pay; one week for each month I had been employed. While it was not a lot of money, it would help tide me over until I got another job. Tearfully, I packed up the few personal items on my desk, said goodbye to my co-workers and was back out on the street by nine a.m. I spent the rest of Monday morning updating my skimpy resume, adding my summer of employment to my college student resume. I printed out a hundred copies and began an intense job search. I used newspaper want ads as well as several on-line job markets. I composed a series of cover letters to be enclosed with my resume in order to try to customize it to the particular help wanted ad I was replying to. By Monday night I had thirty responses ready to mail. The next morning I went to the local post office branch, bought 100 first class stamps and mailed the resumes I had prepared the day before. I went back to my apartment and scanned the morning newspapers and on line markets for any new postings. There were several which I prepared responses to. It was lunch time and there did not seem to be much more I could do about a job until I started getting replies and hopefully interviews. I took a nice long shower and washed my hair. I had not had it cut in a while and it was getting long and shaggy looking. I thought about how Marsha had fixed my hair on Saturday morning. I got out my blow dryer and attempted to duplicate her styling efforts. It did not look quite the same, but it did look more feminine, which was clearly how Marsha preferred me to look. I felt my face. There was a little beard stubble so I decided to shave. I shaved my face in the usual way. I could not feel anything on my chest, but there was some stubble in my armpits and on my legs, so I lathered and shaved there as well. I opened the drawer where Marsha's things were stored. I put on the knee high nylon stockings and waist cincher first this time. Then I put on the blue bra and panty set. The bra cups did not look right since my breasts were incapable of filling them. I pulled a pair of old cotton socks from my underwear drawer. I folded one and stuffed it into my right bra cup. It pretty much filled the cup and gave the bra a more natural look or so I thought. I stuffed the other cup the same way. Now I actually had something sticking out there, like any girl would. I put on the white blouse, slowly buttoning it in back and at the cuffs. I pulled on the jeans which seemed even tighter than before. I guess Marsha was right. I am too fat. I better start dieting and try to loose a few pounds. I slipped the high heeled oxfords on my stocking feet and laced them tight. I got up and walked around a bit. I looked at myself in the mirror. The blouse looked much better now that I had stuffed my bra, or should I say Marsha's bra. I got out her makeup and applied lipstick, eye shadow and this time some eye liner as well. I powdered my face and worked in a little blush. While still not perfect, I was pleased with the results. As I stood admiring this feminine image reflected back from my mirror I could feel my penis getting hard. It seemed that I was turning myself on! I really liked what I saw in the mirror. I hated to admit it, but with my body and face I made a much nicer looking girl than a man. I rubbed my hand at the crotch of my tight jeans as my penis attempted to expand in its tight confines. Finally I unzipped my jeans and peeled them down to my knees. I pulled my panties down, and my cock bobbed up at full mast. It took only a few strokes before I exploded. I caught my emission in my left hand, brought that up to my face and licked it clean just a Marsha had taught me. It was not the same as when I was with Marsha. Not as good as when she watched me do it. But, it did feel nice, and it got rid of the swelling at my crotch. After cleaning myself, I pulled the panties back in place and pulled up my jeans as well. I stayed dressed as a girl until bedtime. I liked wearing Marsha's clothes and makeup. It made me feel closer to her somehow. I sensed that if she were here, she would have been pleased. A week passed before I got my first replies to the resumes I had mailed out. Each letter was different, but the messages were the same. "Thank you for your resume. Your qualifications do not fit our current requirements. We will keep your resume on file ...." By the end of the second week I had gotten replies from most of the resumes sent out. I continued to look for new ads and sent a dozen more resumes, but nothing seemed to come of it. I was spending nearly all of my time at home now. My money was running out. The rent was due. I was starting to panic. Marsha never called. I knew how she had always insisted that she call me, and that I was not to call her, but I was getting desperate. I tried her number and got voice mail. I left a message asking her to please call me. Another day passed and she had not returned my call so I left a second message and then a third. Still she did not return my calls. As a last resort, I took bus to her Lake Shore Drive condo. I dressed in my "interview" suit with a white shirt and tie. When I entered the lobby of her building the same doorman stood blocking my entry. "Miss Marsha is not in." "When do you expect her? I can wait." "No Sir, you can not wait here. Miss Marsha will not be having male visitors no more Sir." "What do you mean she will not have male visitors? She is 22 years old and she has a right to see anyone she pleases." "No Sir. Miss Marsha's Daddy owns her condo and he say that I am not to let any mens up there no how no way Sir." I was at a loss for words. He stood like a pillar blocking my entry. I gave up. I turned and walked out of the building. I took the bus back to my apartment. When the door closed behind me I started to cry. No job. No money. My girlfriend does not return my calls. I am not allowed into her building. No one wants to hire me. I am fucked. As I sat on my couch sobbing over my misfortune my phone rang. One of my resumes had hit pay dirt. I had and interview the next morning. The interview went well. I was told the job was mine, subject to reference checks. I was elated. A day later they called me at home. "We are sorry, but your last work reference was not acceptable. We have decided to hire someone else." I asked what the problem was about my reference. They refused to go into detail except to say that I had been fired for "cause". On my resume I had said I was laid off due to budget cuts. They assumed I had lied on my resume. I was fucked. It was clear now that it was Marsha's father who had just fucked me. In the fourth week of my unemployment, my credit card was cancelled because the bill was overdue. I got an eviction notice from my landlord. I did not have enough money to even buy groceries. It looked like a good time to go on a strict diet. Finally on a Tuesday night out of the blue Marsha called. She wanted to see me. I told her how the doorman would not let me, or any other men, into her condo. She said she would come to my place. She asked me if I still had the clothes she had lent me. I said yes. She asked me if I would wear them again for her. I said I would. I dressed as quickly as possible. I stuffed my bra with socks again. I did full makeup, using everything in her purse. I styled my hair. I thought I looked pretty good, for a boy trying to look like a girl. The doorbell rang. It was Marsha, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her. "Hi Ben. You look good. I am glad you used makeup. That makes such a nice difference." "Hi Marsha. Oh god I really have missed you. I lost my job and I have not been able to find any work, and I am about at wits end." Marsha embraced me. We kissed. I could taste her lipstick, and I am sure she could taste mine. Our tongues danced. My faux breasts pressed against her so very real ones. "Oh Ben don't worry. Everything is going to be alright. Mistress Marsha will take care of you. And I know how much you like taking care of Mistress Marsha. Now get down on your knees and show me how much you enjoy worshiping my pussy." I bent to my knees while Marsha stood towering over me. I unzipped her skirt and let it fall to her ankles. I pulled down her panties. My tongue went to work. I stayed on my knees paying homage to her most feminine pussy for nearly an hour. She had at least five orgasms, maybe more. Finally Marsha stepped back and motioned me to rise. She sat on my couch and told me to fix her a drink. I did not have any wine, but there was a little bit of scotch left in a bottle I had bought earlier in the summer. I emptied the bottle into a glass and added ice cubes. Marsha was sitting on my couch when I returned with the drink. I handed it to her and she motioned for me to sit on the floor at her feet. "Marsha I am about to be evicted from my apartment. I have no money left. My last employer is giving me bad references so no one seems willing to hire me. I do not know what to do." "Why don't you move in with me Ben?" "Really Marsha? You want me to move in with you; to live with you? That would be great." "Then it's settled. Tomorrow you move into my condo." "But what about the doorman? What about your father? The doorman told me he will not let any men into your condo. It is impossible for me to live with you under those circumstances." "You will not be living with me as a man Ben. Daddy and the doorman do not mind me having female guests. If you dress as a girl, and act like a girl, everything will be fine." "But Marsha, even in the girl's clothes I am wearing, the doorman will spot me." "Yes he probably would Ben. You really still look like a boy wearing girl's clothes, not like the genuine article. But I know that with a wig and a little more work on your makeup and some different clothes and jewelry you will be able to walk right past the doorman and he will never know the difference." "Do you really think I could pull that off Marsha?" "Yes Ben I do. It will take some work on your part, and of course you must never again wear male clothing, but I am certain that we can pull this off and Daddy will be none the wiser." "That would be wonderful Marsha. I am not sure about having to wear girl's clothing all the time, but frankly I do not have much choice. It either that or start sleeping on the street, and I sure do not want to do that." "Then it is settled Ben. ....Ben. I can not call you Ben anymore. You need a girl's name. Ben, Bren, Brenda. Yes Brenda. I like that name. Do you like it Brenda? "I guess its ok. Close enough to my real name that I will probably respond to it. Yes, I suppose I can be Brenda for a while, until I get back on my feet." I went down on Marsha two more times that night. My tight girl's jeans never came off, and my little penis stayed trapped between my legs, but my girlfriend got a lot of pleasure from me. It was the least I could do, considering she was going to bail me out of being homeless. The next Morning Marsha picked me up and we went shopping. I wore the same blouse and jeans and heels which she had lent me a month ago. Marsha's credit card got well used as we spent most of the day shopping for new clothes for me. She bought me five matching bra and panty sets, another waist cincher, a high waist long leg panty girdle, a garter belt, and six pair of nylon stockings. At a shoe store Marsha picked out three pair of dressy high heels. These were all stiletto heels with narrow pointed toes. When I tried them on, they pinched my feet some, and the heels were higher than those on my oxfords, but they looked good on my feet and I managed to walk in them without falling down. At a clothing store, I got three skirts, three more blouses and one slinky black dress. Then she pulled me into a beauty shop. We tried several wigs. Finally Marsha chose an auburn wig cut to about shoulder length. It made a huge difference in my appearance. Then I got a manicure complete with bright red nail polish. They did my makeup. I looked in the mirror when they were finished. I had to admit that I was starting to look like a real girl. Our next stop was a jewelry store. She bought me a silver choker necklace with a matching bracelet. I got three finger rings. Then Marsha had them double pierce my ears, installing two silver ball studs in each lobe. My earlobes were burning from the piercing, but the pain was not really all that bad. Marsha drove us to her condo. We both had our arms full of packages as we entered the lobby. The doorman was at his usual station. "James, this is my friend Brenda. She will be staying with me for a while." "How do you do Miss Brenda. If there is anything I can do to help you, then you just give me a call please." I tried to speak in a higher octave so he would not recognize my voice. "Thank you James. That is very kind of you." And with that, we walked into the elevator and up to Marsha's palatial condo. We had pulled it off! I never once went back to my old apartment. The only things there of any value were a few pieces of cheap furniture, my male clothing, and a few books. As I could not wear male clothing while staying with Marsha, there seemed no reason to move it. I assumed that the landlord kept or discarded what was left of my prior life. Marsha was kept busy with her law school classes and studying. I rarely left her condo, since I was still very uncomfortable as a female in public. Marsha had been using a maid service three days a week, but suggested that I could do that work and save her some money. It seemed like a fair exchange, so while Marsha spent her days at the law school, I kept busy with cleaning and dusting and mopping. She stopped sending her laundry out and I started to do all the laundry and ironing. Again, it was a way for me to help pay my way until I could find a proper job. About a week after moving in with her, Marsha came home with a package for me. It was a dress. Really it was more of a uniform than a dress. It was gray with white trimming. It was tightly tailored and I needed to wear my girdle in order to get the back zipper closed. As I modeled the new dress for Marsha, I realized what it was; a maid's uniform. I wore it all the next day as I did my household chores. Since I had no low heeled shoes, I wore the black oxfords with the four inch block heel. I had mixed feelings about wearing the maid's uniform. It was more practical than wearing my dressier outfits, but there was a certain stigma attached to it. It made me feel sort of low class and inferior, but then compared to Marsha I guess I was pretty low class. At mid day Charles the doorman called to tell me there was a delivery for me. There were two packages. One was from a uniform supply company. Inside were an additional three gray maid's uniforms identical to the one I was wearing. There was a forth uniform which was much less modest. It had a very short hem line, and was low cut in front, but still it was unmistakably a maids uniform. The other package contained three shoe boxes. Inside each shoe box was a pair of high heels. They were identically styled but three different colors; red, white and black. They were classically styled pumps with stiletto heel and pointed toe. What was unusual about these shoes was the extreme height of the heel, and the wide ankle strap. When I held one of the new heels next to my foot I could see that the heels were half again as high as the four inch heel on my oxfords. They had to be six inches or a bit more. Upon further inspection I saw that the leather ankle straps were designed to be closed with a small padlock. Indeed there were two padlocks and keys in each shoebox. I assumed that Marsha ordered these for me because it would please her to see me thus dressed. So, I went ahead and took off my oxfords and put on the black stilettos. I locked the ankle straps snuggly. There was no way I could then remove these heels without the key. I put the keys on the hutch where Marsha normally would leave her keys and purse when she was home. I spent the rest of the day trying to master walking in these extremely high spike heels. By the time Marsha got home, my feet were painfully sore and my calf muscles seemed tight as well. Marsha greeted me with a big smile. "I see your new uniforms and shoes arrived. Thank you for taking the initiative to wear them Brenda." "Yes I thought that might please you Marsha." "Brenda, since I am the head of my household, and you are my maid, you need to be a bit more respectful of me. I do not think it is at all appropriate for a servant to be on a first name basis with her Mistress." She said I am her maid. So that is how it is. Even though my tongue is inside her pussy nearly every day, she thinks of me as nothing more than a servant. Damn. I offer her my love and she kicks me in the balls. "Yes Mistress. Is that what you want? You want me to call you Mistress?" "Yes Brenda, Mistress will be fine. Thank you." "May I bring you your glass of wine Mistress?" "Yes. I will have red tonight. There is a Napa Cab in the wine rack. Open that and bring me a glass." "Yes Mistress." My heels clacked as I quickly walked back to the kitchen to get her wine. My feet felt awful, but I did not want to show any weakness in front of Marsha so I sucked it up and did my job without complaint. After serving her wine, I went back to the kitchen to prepare our supper. I set two places at the dining room table. I placed the opened bottle of cabernet next to Marsha's place and put an empty wine glass with my own place setting. She was still in the living room when dinner was ready. I walked into the living room. "Dinner is ready to serve Mistress." "Good girl Brenda." Marsha walked directly to the dining room, while I went via the kitchen to bring the food. I started to set the food dishes in the center of the table to serve family style as had been our practice. "Brenda, I want to make some changes in our dining routine. I really do not think it is proper for a servant to share the table with her Mistress. Henceforth you will serve my meals in the dining room and when you are finished serving, you may eat your meal in the kitchen. Is that understood?" "Yes Mistress, I understand." I served Marsha her meal. Then I cleared my own place setting and took it back to the kitchen. I returned to the dining room and stood at the side board awaiting any requests she might have. Her wine glass was empty and she tapped on it. "May I fill your wine glass Mistress?" "Yes girl." I took the bottle which was sitting within her reach and filled her glass. Then I returned to the side table. I stood on my painfully sore feet for another twenty minutes as Marsha took her time eating. I knew that my own meal was sitting in the kitchen getting cold. Finally Marsha rose from the table. "You may clear now Brenda. I will be in the den studying. Do not disturb me. I will call you if I need your assistance." "Yes Mistress." Tears started to stream down my face the moment Marsha left the dining room. I had such high hopes when Marsha asked me to move in with her. I actually thought we would be a couple; a pair of lovers although our love had always taken on a rather odd twist. I had never had my penis insider her. My orgasms were always at my own hand, while Marsha got her pleasure from my oral ministrations. Yes it was not normal sex, but still for me it was the closest I had ever come to having a real girlfriend and one who seemed to enjoy my company. But now things were different. We were not boyfriend and girlfriend. We were servant and Mistress. In exchange for room and board and basic necessities I worked very hard for Marsha. It was not love. It was simple commerce. When I thought about it in those terms, I realized Marsha was getting good value for what she was spending on my upkeep. I know my new clothes and uniforms and high heels were not cheap, but then it is not cheap to hire a full time live in maid these days either. I managed to eat a bit of dinner sitting at the kitchen table. It was a relief to be off my feet if only for a few minutes. Then I cleaned up in the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and ran it. I was just ready to sit and relax when I heard Marsha's voice from the den. "Brenda, come here. I need you." "Yes Mistress." I walked as quickly as my high heels would allow and entered the den where Marsha was pouring over a stack of law books. "Brenda, up until now I have been sharing my bedroom with you. I really should have done this sooner, but as you can well imagine it is very inappropriate for a common servant to be sleeping in the bed of her Mistress. I want you to move your things out of my room and into the small bedroom in back. I am sure that will be more than adequate for your needs." "Yes Mistress. I will move everything to the back bedroom immediately Mistress." "Good girl. You are dismissed." What ever did I do to deserve being treated like this? She has turned into a complete bitch. But, I suppose in a way she is right. After all she is the Mistress of the house and I am just here to serve her. At least I still will have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head. If Marsha had not come to my rescue I would probably be sleeping with the winos at some mission by now. I gathered my limited wardrobe and moved everything to the small back bedroom. It did not take long as at that point I had very few possessions. My new bed was a rather small single, in contrast the king sized bed in Marsha's room. It was about ten pm by the time I had everything organized in my new room. I was ready to sleep. I started to take off my new high heels when I realized that I needed the key to unlock the ankle straps. I walked back to the foyer where I had left the keys earlier, but they were gone. She must have taken them; put them in her purse. I walked back to the den. The door was open and Marsha was still studying. "Excuse me Mistress, but do you have the keys to my ankle strap heels?" "Yes I do have them. Now please go. You are breaking my concentration and I still have a lot of reading to finish." "But I need the keys to take my high heels off and get ready for bed Mistress." "Did you hear me girl? I said please go. I will unlock your heels in the morning before you shower. You are dismissed." "Yes Mistress. I am sorry to have disturbed you Mistress. Good night Mistress." I slept fitfully that night with my sore feet still locked into the ever so high heels. In the morning Marsha did unlock them, allowing me to shower and change into a fresh clean uniform. I carefully applied makeup and put on my jewelry. The ankle strap heels were once more locked on, so I knew that I would be in them for the full day again. Before she left for classes that morning I was told to kneel and serve her pussy. My own sexual needs were ignored and my erection untouched. When Mistress Marsha left for the day, I immediately went into my bathroom and quickly masturbated. I ate my own emissions as had become my habit. Then I repaired my makeup and got busy with the day's household chores. Upon her return that evening I served her a glass of wine which had become part of our daily routine. While Marsha sat sipping her wine, I stood in my maid's uniform and locked on high heels awaiting further instructions. "Come here Brenda. There is something I need to discuss with you." I walked over to stand facing her and she motioned for me to kneel, which I did. "Yes Mistress, what is it?" "Did you masturbate today Brenda?" "Yes Mistress." "Did you ask my permission to do that Brenda?" "No Mistress, I did not realize....." "You did not realize that I might disapprove of your wasting time in self-indulgent perversions, when you are supposed to be working for me?" "In the future Brenda, you will not masturbate without my permission. Is that understood?" "Yes Mistress, I understand." "Now, come over here and put that tongue of yours to work. Your Mistress had a hard day and needs to unwind." "Yes Mistress." The next few days passed uneventfully as I was busy with my household chores and with sexually servicing her most mornings and evenings. Of course the erotic stimulation of being with Marsha on such an intimate level caused my own sexual arousal as well. I fell back into my habit of masturbating. I could not help it. My needs were too great, and Marsha would not fulfill them for me. Then one evening as I served her customary glass of wine she again asked the question. "Brenda when is the last time you masturbated?" "I can not be untruthful Mistress. I did it this morning." "And when before this morning did you engage in that disgusting act Brenda?" "Well I guess it was yesterday morning Mistress. I do it most mornings, after you go to class." "Do you by chance recall a discussion we had a couple weeks ago. It dealt with you not masturbating without permission." "Yes Mistress I remember. I know I did not have your permission to do it Mistress. I am guilty. I am sorry. I knew I should not have done it Mistress, but I just get so needy and ..." "So you openly defied me. You disobeyed a direct order. Tell me Brenda, what do you suppose I should do about this little problem of yours." "I ... I don't know Mistress. I do not seem to be able to control myself sometimes." "You lack self control Brenda?" "Yes Mistress, I am weak willed and lack self control." "If you can not control your base urges Brenda, then it seems I must control them for you. Don't you agree?" "Yes Mistress, I guess it would be good if there was some way for you to control it." "Indeed there are ways to prevent a girl like you from self abuse. There are several ways in fact. Would you like me to arrange it for you Brenda?" "Arrange what Mistress Marsha?" "Arrange things so you stop masturbating like some common slut." "Yes please Mistress. If there is something you can do to help me stop, I guess that is what I need Mistress." "Good girl. I am glad you agree with me on the need for me to take action. We will deal with your problem on two levels Brenda; one physical and one chemical." "Physical and chemical? I do not understand Mistress." "It is really quite simple Brenda. I will have you fitted with a physical device which will prevent you having access to your little Willy; your clit. And there are certain chemicals; drugs which will also diminish your desires for self abuse." "A device Mistress?" "Yes girl, a device. They are commonly called chastity belts. They cover up your naughty parts so you can no longer touch them. It's quite simple really. You will agree to wear one of course?" "Yes I guess so Mistress, if you think it is necessary." "Yes Brenda. It is absolutely necessary if you wish to continue living here. Of course you are free to leave any time Brenda. No one is keeping you prisoner here." "Yes Mistress I know I am free to go, but I really want to stay, to take care of you." "Good girl. I will get the ball rolling tomorrow. The sooner we can stop you from all this nasty masturbation the better. Right Brenda?" "Yes Mistress." The phone rang the next morning about 10 am. It was Marsha. She made me two appointments for that day. The first was at 11:45 am with a Doctor Meyers. The second was at 3:00 pm with a man named Ralph at a company called Metalwerkes. I changed out of my maid's uniform into a nice skirt and blouse. I had to wear the ultra high heels as they were locked on and Marsha had the keys. I checked my makeup and hair and headed out for the first appointment. I was still very self conscious about appearing in public dressed as a girl, but after weeks of practice inside Marsha's condo I was a little more confident about passing. Doctor Meyers' office was only a few blocks from the condo and it was a nice day so I walked. My feet were pretty sore by the time I arrived. The sign on the door said "Dr. Helen Meyers DDS, MD, PhD." I entered an empty reception area and went to the window. There was no one around. I was about fifteen minutes early so I took a seat and waited. At precisely 11:45 the door opened and a middle aged woman wearing a white lab coat looked at me and simply said "Brenda?" "Yes, I am Ben, a ... Brenda." I was taken to an examination room and told to undress completely. I took off my skirt and blouse. I removed my padded bra. I was wearing a panty girdle with garters and stockings. I unfastened the garter tabs and let the stockings fall to my ankles where the locked on heels prevented any further removal. I unzipped the girdle and pulled it and my panties down and off. I stood there naked but for my heels and stockings. My penis was still tucked down between my legs and was soft. Dr. Meyers spoke with a thick German sounding accent. She asked me the usual m