ETHEL S DISCOMFORT 4
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The Things We Do For Love free porn video
The things we do for love, by Dorothy Colleen
You want to hear about my first love dear? Well, I guess we know each
other well enough for me to share it with you. You could say I was a
late bloomer. I was 18 before it happened to me. Really? You were that
young? My goodness me.
You will have to give me all the juicy details soon. But you wanted to
hear my story. When I first saw him, I was not really impressed. But
somehow he managed to get me over to his house with some others , after
boasting about his cooking. Well, he was a fantastic cook, that's for
sure. After dinner, he gave us all a glass of wine.
Normally, I am not a drinker, but the meal had been good and I was
feeling pretty mellow. The others started to leave, but somehow, I
didn't want to go. He came over to me, refilled my glass, and after I
drank it, I found myself looking him in the face like I had never really
seen him before, and knowing I loved him. I was head over heels. I
looked down at myself and hated what I saw.
How could he love me? I was out of shape, I was ugly, and worst of all,
I was male. Oh, my, take a breath dear, you almost choked. Yes, I was
male, hun. Well thank you for the compliment. So, do you want me to
continue?
Ok dear, so there I was, hopelessly in love with another man. He came
near me, took my glass away, and I could not stop trembling. He leaned
in close, and I think I would have died and gone to heaven if he had
kissed me. But he asked me what I was thinking instead. How could I not
tell him? I told him everything, and at the end I was crying, thinking
he was going to hate me.
He said to me "Would you be a woman for me?" Well, what could I say? I
promised I would do whatever I took to please him. I would be his dream
girl, anything , if it made him happy. And so my journey into womanhood
began.
On his instructions, I quit my job, said goodbye to the few friends I
had, and even phoned my mom and told her not to expect to hear from me
again. I enrolled in a special school for boys who wanted to be girls
and dedicated myself to the goal of becoming my man's dream come true.
It was an intensive class, like boot camp complete with a drill sergeant
of a teacher. At the end of 3 months, female mannerisms and dress were
second nature. I had changed my name legally, and I was ready for the
next step, hormones.
During my transformation, he would drop in from time to time, take me to
his place for a glass of wine, and ask me how I was feeling about my
progress. Each visit, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to
report I an mastered some new feminine skill, and the day I got my
prescription, I showed him the pills with glee.
By that time I was not only able to pass in public, I was working part
time, and other than my boss, nobody had any idea I had not been born a
woman. And it seemed like I loved him more after each time we were
together .
Finally, the big day came. Re-assignment. After the surgery, I was
laying in a hospital bed with an IV filled with antibiotic and pain
medication reading how I would have to use a device that looked like a
dildo to keep the area from closing up. It took very little for me to
imagine it was my love, entering me, filling me. A few days later he
picked me up from the hospital and had a surprise for me - a engagement
ring. Of course I said yes!
The wedding was a small one. Just him, me, the justice of the peace and
my former instructor from the school as our witness. And the honeymoon?
I don't think we left the room at the hotel. But one thing strange was
he asked me before our first time if I had ever wanted a man before.
I confessed I had never thought of men like that until I had met him.
That answer pleased him, and my nervousness vanished when he began to
explore my body. I was in total bliss.
I had no idea how short our time together would turn out to be. We had
just got back when a knock at the door ended our lives together. I was
totally confused by the way the police were treating him, charging him
with kidnapping me. It took several big strong officers to restrain me
when they took him away, as I screamed at them that it was a mistake, he
was my husband, that I loved him.
I lay in a bed in a hospital with a female police officer when a doctor
came in with, of all things,, a wine bottle. I recognised it as one of
ours, and he gave me a drink, and then he said "remember" And I did. I
looked at my reflection in the mirror as if seeing myself for the first
time. I remembered everything I had done. I had done THAT with a man,
and liked it, begged for more. I threw up.
They explained to me that my folks hadn't believed me when I told them I
was in love, so they had hired a private investigator to find me. When I
applied to change my name, he was able to track me down. He broke into
our house while we were on our "honeymoon", and found his notes on what
he had done to me and had called the police in.
Apparently it was all an experiment, he had just wanted to see how much
a person would do for love. Would they change gender, orientation? His
notes showed that I had exceeded his expectations when I went through
the surgery. The last note was just before we went for our honeymoon,
and it said he was looking forward to seeing if I was as compliant in
the bedroom. I cried as I read them, and the female officer let me hold
her as I sobbed.
So, they finally let me go, and I have made the best of it since.
Becoming a man again seems unrealistic, so I have decided to be the best
woman I can. And I think I am doing pretty good. I have a good job, some
nice friends like you, and if life isn't perfect, its not very bad
either.
It's funny, but I don't hate him. Maybe its some remnant of his
brainwashing, but when I think of him its more with sadness than anger.
Dating?, Well, that took a while. It's hard to put your heart out again
after you have been burned. But a couple of months ago I went to a club
and met somebody fantastic.
We have been an item ever since. He is sweet, funny, treats me like a
queen, and I feel very safe with him. Dating men a surprise? Well more
for me than you, I can tell you. But I figure its what in their heart
and between their ears that matters, not what's between the legs.
Besides, he has got what you would call a strong feminine side.
My only rule about that is no borrowing my dresses without asking me
first. Maybe that's a little extreme for your taste. What? Really? Your
man too? We will definitely have to go out shopping as four girls then.
Maybe next Saturday? I will ask my guy, you ask yours, Ok? We will have
a hoot. Oh, my, look at the time, I better get going. Give me a ring if
it's a go, ok? Love you lots. Take care.
Lynne
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