Sarah teaches Bristol BRUTAL Intruders
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The Bristol Job free porn video
I was really pleased when I heard I was being transferred to the Bristol
office. Not only was I being promoted but I was to be deputy area
manager. OK, it was only a small office with only around 10 staff, but
still I was deputy area manager. In a few years I'd be manager of my own
office with a big salary and a company car.
What would the Bristol area manager, Miss Kilbride, be like? I'd never
had a woman boss before. She sounded a bit of a battleaxe on the phone,
but I wasn't worried. I'd always been able to get on with anyone.
When I went to visit the office before I started there, I found she
wasn't at all like my expectations. She was called Liz and was young,
perhaps only four or five years older than me. She was very professional
in her long, smart grey suit but rather attractive.
I was to share an office with her while the other staff worked in the
outer office. We got on very well professionally and I was never
inclined to take it any further. Not that I wasn't interested, but you
should never mix business and pleasure!
One Friday after I'd been there for nearly a year, Liz asked me, "James,
are you gay?"
I was too shocked by the question to answer.
"I said, are you gay?" she repeated louder. "You've been here a year and
you've never made a pass at me."
"No, I'm not gay," I said. "It's just ... well, you know." It was the
best I could do to explain why I didn't want to get involved in a
relationship with my boss, the person who writes my appraisal, the
person who has a big say in how my career develops. One false move and I
could be out of work.
"Well," she went on, smiling a wicked smile, "if you're not gay, perhaps
you can explain why you're wearing women's tights under your trousers."
I suddenly felt that my skin was several sizes too small for me. I could
hardly breathe, my chest felt so tight. I could feel blood rushing to my
head. My forehead felt as though it was on fire and a couple of beads of
sweat broke out and trickled down my face. If this wasn't an anxiety
attack, what was?
"I'll ... I'll explain it to you later," I said. "Can you wait till
after work? You know I'm really busy right now with this report." I was
stalling for time, of course. What else could I do?
"OK," she said. "You can explain it all to me at five o'clock."
What was I going to do? What were my options? Tell the truth? Or pretend
that I had some disease, poor circulation in the legs perhaps, that
meant I had to wear tights under my trousers? Deny it? If I had said
that I wasn't wearing tights I would have been telling the truth. The
fact is that I was wearing stockings and suspenders! Plead the fifth
amendment? That would just prove I had something to hide. I had just an
hour to come up with a strategy.
I wondered what evidence she had against me. Earlier that afternoon She
had asked me to climb up a step ladder to fetch a file from a high-up
shelf. She said that she couldn't get up there in her long skirt.
I was vaguely conscious of my trouser leg riding up as I stretched for
the file, but didn't think Liz had noticed anything at the time. How
wrong could I be? How could I be so careless?
What other evidence did she have against me? Had she spotted some left-
over make-up on my neck or some nail varnish on my fingers?
Once I had left a business card of a shop that caters for cross-dressers
in the drawer of my desk. Had Liz found it while looking for a stapler
or Sellotape?
There was an occasion about six months ago when Liz had (accidentally?)
knocked over a small bottle of mineral water on my desk. It had gone all
over my leg. I had only just managed to prevent her from pulling off my
wet trousers, claiming I had to preserve my modesty. I did. I certainly
didn't want her to see my frilly feminine underwear.
God, I had been careless.
You won't need me to tell you that I could hardly concentrate on my
report. I knew that someone would find out about me some time. I just
hadn't worked out what I would do in that circumstance.
Five o'clock came and I still hadn't decided what to do. I could hear
the people in the outer office clocking out, one by one. Then it all
went quiet. Liz waited a minute and then asked me seriously, "James, how
long have you been a transvestite?"
You'll notice that she was someone who came straight to the point.
"Look, Liz," I said, "I'll answer all your questions truthfully but only
if you promise to keep it within these four walls."
I was really in no position to bargain but I had to try. Liz thought for
a moment. Then her curiosity got the better of her.
"OK," she said.
"Promise?"
"Promise." I hoped that I could rely to her honesty.
"OK. Ask away. Ask whatever you want," I said trying to sound cool, "but
don't breathe a word to anyone else."
"OK. Was I right? You are a transvestite?" she asked.
"I prefer the term cross-dresser," I replied, trying to be matter of
fact. This was going to be very humiliating.
"How long have you done it?"
"Since I was a teenager."
"Why do you do it? Is it a sexual thing?" Liz asked.
I looked down ashamedly, "Yes," I said.
"And do you wear women's underwear all the time?"
She knew me better than I thought. "Yes," I replied briefly. I owned
nothing else.
"What about skirts and dresses? Do you wear them?"
"Only occasionally," I lied.
"Are we talking sober suits and sensible shoes or high heels and higher
hemlines?" she went on. She did know me well. I must have blushed before
I could reply as she went on to add, "I think I can guess. Any special
little outfits. A French maid's costume? A sexy schoolgirl, perhaps?"
I shook my head, lying again. I'd promised to tell the whole truth but
Liz seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
"Do you wear make-up? Wigs?"
"Sometimes," I said trying to play it down.
"Do you have a name for yourself when you're dressed?"
"Yes. Belle."
"Belle. That's a beautiful, feminine name." she said smiling. "You said
you weren't gay. What about girlfriends? Have you had many and what did
they think of Belle?" She was probing here but I had promised to answer
all her questions.
"I've had a few girlfriends but none of them has liked Belle. It's a
shame because one of my fantasies is to make love as Belle." Why did I
say that? I was giving too many of my personal secrets away.
"You want to make love as Belle? To a woman or a man?"
"To a woman, of course. I told you I wasn't gay."
"James, can I beg a favour? Can I meet Belle?" Liz asked.
"Oh no, Belle is a very private person. I'd prefer to kee it that way."
"I'd still like to meet her," Liz said insistently.
"I'm sorry but you can't." I said, putting my foot down.
"Look, James, I've got to write your appraisal next Monday. You wouldn't
want it to be anything less than positive."
"Are you blackmailing me?" I asked.
"Oh, come on, James, I wouldn't go as far as to say that. It's just that
if I met Belle I might be in a good mood when I write that appraisal."
"You are blackmailing me," I said.
"What about me coming round to your place, tomorrow?" Liz asked. "It'll
be very discrete."
So soon? Still it would have to be before Monday. "All right," I said
giving in. "Come round to my flat about seven o'clock. I'm sure that
Belle would like to invite you for dinner. She's a very good cook. Do
you know the address?"
"Yes. Seven o'clock. Tomorrow. Tell Belle I won't be late."
She stood up and prepared to leave the office. "Good night," she said.
"Good night." Did I say good night? Good night? This was a disaster. I
packed up slowly and locked the office carefully behind me. All the way
home I was thinking of my conversation with Liz. How could I have been
so careless as to get caught? How could I have agreed to meet her
dressed as Belle? Hell, what would I wear? As Liz had guessed all
Belle's dresses were somewhat on the short side. You could make three of
Belle's skirts from one of Liz's.
Perhaps I should go shopping for a longer skirt to wear tomorrow night.
Perhaps I could find some ladies" trousers. I certainly could do with
some male underwear. No, I will not be brow-beaten by Liz. She may be my
boss but she can't dictate what I do in private. I didn't become a
tranny to wear trousers. I've been starving myself for years so that my
legs look thin and attractive. I'd be stupid not to wear my favourite
little dress tomorrow, however short it is. I need to look as feminine
as possible, even if this means I have to wear too much make-up!
The next morning I woke up nervous but excited. I always looked forward
to dressing as Belle but I was more than a little nervous about the idea
of Liz's company that evening. I went to the supermarket to buy some
food and wine and then to the video store to hire a movie. If Liz wanted
to stay all evening, I thought that it would be easier if we passed the
time watching a video. I spent the rest of the morning tidying up the
flat and preparing the food for the evening. At last I had it all ready
so that I'd only have to put it in the oven and open the wine.
After lunch I started to get myself ready, even though Liz wouldn't be
coming round for five hours. I wanted to make sure I looked my best and
that I would be ready even if she was early.
I took a bath and shaved my whole body, something I did about once a
week. After a long soak, I got out, dried myself and put on Belle's
favourite robe. It was a deep burgundy colour.
I searched Belle's wardrobe and found four possible dresses to wear.
They were all rather short. I held each one in front of me in turn and
looked in the mirror. It was a tough decision, but I settled on a black
mini-dress with a tight waist and spaghetti shoulder straps.
What would I wear with the dress? Stockings? Or tights? Was it too short
for stockings? Would my suspenders show? It would have to be tights. No.
I'm getting paranoid. I'll wear what I want to wear. I'll put on the
stockings to see if they are OK. I found various pairs of shoes and
handbags before settling on a pair of black, strappy stilettos and
although I didn't really need one, a little black handbag.
I looked at my watch. It was quarter to four. I'd spent nearly two hours
getting ready and I hadn't started getting dressed or doing my make-up
yet!
I took off the robe and started to get dressed. First a pair of black
panties, making sure I tucked myself under as I pulled them up. Then a
black corset, which reduces my waist to a sylph-like 26 inches. I've
worn a corset for years but it's still agony every time I put it on.
After a few minutes I get used to it but I could hardly bend to put on
the new pair of seamed black stockings I had chosen.
No matter how often I wear stockings or tights, I love the feeling as I
pull the nylons up my thighs. I carefully clipped the corset's
suspenders to the stockings, checking in the mirror that my seams were
straight. I admired my slim, hairless feminine legs. Next I found a
black strapless bra. I hooked it up at the front and twisted it round so
that the cups were at the front. I took two breast-forms out of the
drawer, glued them to my hairless chest and adjusted the bra round them.
So far so good.
Now it was time for the dress and I passed it over my head and pulled it
down. Not that far down, mind! I did up the zip and looked in the
mirror. Was it OK with stockings? I think so. I pulled up a chair and
sat in front of the mirror. Can I see my suspenders? I don't think so.
My outfit looked so good, I was becoming a little aroused so I tried to
think of something else by looking in my jewellery box. I found a gold
broach, three rings, a watch, a bracelet and an anklet. I put them all
on. They were very feminine. Then I found some clip on ear-rings (my
ears aren't pierced - worse luck) and a lovely necklace which completed
the ensemble. I stepped into the stilettos and stood and admired myself
in the mirror again. Only the wig and make-up to go.
I was feeling really good but still nervous as I adjusted the wig on my
head. I had decided to be the cool brunette rather than the ditzy
blonde. In a shoulder length bob - not so long that it gets in the way.
As for my make-up, this always takes hours. The nail varnish has to be
just right. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, really. Then it was red
lipstick, pale blue eye-shadow, mascara, eye-liner and foundation. I
must say here that I thought I looked gorgeous! A little slutty? Perhaps
but Liz, I'm ready.
I looked at the dainty watch on my wrist. It said 5.50. I was early. I
put the food in the oven, checked my face and hair in the mirror for the
hundredth time and sat down in the lounge to read a woman's magazine.
Help. This dress is short. Still, in for a penny...
Time passed quickly as I read the mag. I forgot that I was dressed as
Belle and it was a bit of a shock when the door bell rang. I jumped.
Suddenly I felt very nervous. What time is it? 6.45. Is it too early for
Liz? No, it's probably her.
The smell of the food drifted in from the kitchen. The bell rang again.
"Come on then, girl," I said to myself and stood up, tottering out to
the hall in my awkward stilettos. How do girls walk in these things?
I'd taken the liberty of putting the security chain on the door earlier
so I only opened the door a crack in case it wasn't Liz.
"Who is it?" I said in a whispered genderless voice and peeped through
the crack.
"It's me, of course, silly," came back Liz's unmistakable voice. I could
see Liz in the darkness outside. "Hurry up it's cold out here," she
said.
"Hang on," I breathed as I shut the door, undid the chain and opened the
door wide. In came Liz. She looked me up and down. I looked her up and
down. No wonder she was cold. She was wearing a tiny dress, very
different from her professional wear. Her make-up was a little over-
stated, but who was I to talk?
"Oh, Belle, tu es belle," she said and gave me a hug and a kiss of the
cheek.
"Merci," I replied as she rubbed a lip-stick mark off my cheek. "You're
gorgeous too."
"You are so pretty. And so feminine," she said.
"I do my best," I said with false modesty!
The evening had started well. It continued with the meal which we both
enjoyed. Then the video. We both sat on the sofa. It was a romantic
movie. I hadn't intended it like that. Some the couple on the screen
were snogging. Liz and I inched closer together.
I don't know who started it first but we were soon holding hands. Then
she had her arm round me. Then I felt her breasts and she felt mine.
Next she had her hand up my dress and was feeling my "pussy." I don't
need to tell you that she too was wearing stockings. I soon found that I
was feeling her pussy too. I don't remember the second half of the film.
I do remember that I broke one rule that night. I got involved with my
boss. And Belle found out what it is like to make love to a woman.
Cheryl
- 24.05.2021
- 9
- 0
