Meri Chudai Ki Dastaan 8211 Part XXV 8211 Sagar Kinare Chut Pukare
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You Are Who You Are Chapter 1 free porn video
YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE: Chapter 1
By Tracey Davis
"Alex Davis are who you are," my therapist said. "If you are an
alcoholic and you don't drink, then you are still an alcoholic who
doesn't drink, but you still are an alcoholic."
Susan Andrews sat across from me. I had been seeing her for six weeks. I
needed to get a handle on my situation. She wore a print floral blouse
and a brown skirt that came just short of her knees with hose and brown
two-inch heels. In her late forties with short, slightly grayish hair,
Susan reminded me of a natural hippie-like motherly types.
"I can perhaps modify what you are doing, but there's not really any way
I can stop you from thinking about it. How many times have you told
yourself you were going to stop?"
"Plenty," I said.
"How many times have you tried to stop?"
"Lots of times."
"But you've started up soon afterwards, correct?"
"Yeah, I think the longest I've stopped was maybe three month."
"But you thought about it during that time, right? For those three
months?"
"Yeah, more than I ever did before."
"You are a crossdresser," Susan announced, "and you will be all your
life, no matter if you wear female clothes or not."
It was something I did not want to hear, but already knew. I struggled
with this for most of my thirty years. From the time I was twelve to
now.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Neither," I said. "It's just the way it is."
"Now, with that being said, what do you want to do about it?"
"I'm not sure, but one thing that's great is that I'm able to talk to
someone about it. I've never really been able to do that."
"You don't have any family or friends that know that you do this?"
"No, but I do have some people online that know about it. That's not
really the same. It's different when it's face-to-face."
"If you just need to talk, you can come here or even if you want to
dress up here. That's okay. At some point, I should see who Stephanie is
rather just hearing from her."
"I don't know if you are really hearing from her."
"Well, if you decide to come in here dressed or dress here, this is
always a friendly environment. I want to get to know Stephanie."
"Thank you," I smiled. "I'll certainly think about it."
I shook her hand and left. The idea of dressing for Susan raced through
my mind. I knew I wouldn't be dressing for her, but I knew in my head I
would be.
But now I had to get to work. A city council meeting for the town of
Owensville was calling me. I work as a reporter for the local newspaper
with the circulation of 4,500 papers going out to the surrounding rural
area in north central Pennsylvania.
Not much really happened at the meeting. Not much ever happens at these
meeting, which is good for the community. The council members know what
has to be done and the small community supports their decisions. That's
the way it supposed to run.
The community had been planning, for a couple of years, to build a large
playground in the center park. They finally have collected enough money
and now they were taking bids for completion in the spring. The council
hoped for super low bids to help the community in costs.
The headline: Park Planned for Spring Completion
Nothing exciting. Not every story can be Woodward and Bernstein. After
writing the story, I helped lay out the second and third pages with
police briefs (local arrests) and the community page. It's a Thursday
with no much going on, so we got out before deadline.
"Down to Conway's," Dan, the editor, asked.
"Sure," I replied.
We headed down to a local bar that's not a big hangout with the younger
crowd. I was probably the youngest one there, but I enjoy the atmosphere
and listening to the old men bitch and complain about everything in
their lives from Obama to their wives. They'd talk about the local
football teams like they're the NFL and that's always helps to psych me
up about covering a football game on Friday nights. It's not that I
don't like sports. I'm a huge professional sports fan. I just don't like
seeing these kids pressured to perform like they do.
I don't have the Owensville game. Dan has that one, but I have Jessup -
Owenville's rival. Both teams have only one loss, out of conference, and
face off next week. While everyone else is getting psyched about this
game, I could care less about who wins or losses. I didn't grow up in
this town. I have no loyalties, but then again, I don't have a loyalty
to my own high school.
"I tried to get Jena to come down," Dan said, "but she had to get back
home."
"Thanks," I said.
One night I confessed to Dan how much I liked Jena. She's our community
reporter for the most part, but as witnessed by my assignments, we all
do a little bit of everything.
Jena's a few years older than me. She's full-figured (I'd guess 44-38-
48), but very athletic. Tall (5-10) with brown hair. She wears that
businesswoman look with dress slacks and blouse and heels or a pencil
skirt. Always looking nice and in charge.
That's part of the curse. The curse of crossdressing. When I see a woman
that I'm attracted to, it usually because of the clothes she wears. And
you've guessed it; these are clothes that I would like to wear.
I'm not a drag queen. I don't dress up in gaudy punk makeup with
elaborate hairstyles. The closest I get to something like that is a
French maid uniform, but I think every crossdresser has that in their
minds at one point or another. A French maid uniform is so feminine and
dainty.
I finally rolled out of the bar at a little after one when it closed and
headed home to my apartment. I couldn't wait to get in bed and get some
sleep. I took a bottle of soda with me to bed and undressed to my
panties. I hardly ever wear men's underwear. Today I had on pink pastel
nylon briefs. Nothing fancy, but they made me feel good. I removed them
and put on a black lace boyshorts and a matching babydoll and climb into
bed. I know it's fucked up. I try to accept it, but, like I said before,
for some reason it makes me feel good.
The next morning I woke and showered. The perk of my job is that I can
sleep in. It's almost ten. I picked out one of my favorite panties to
wear; purple satin bikinis with pink and purple lace around the edges
with pink bows along the waistband. I put on the matching bra as well.
Next I slipped on a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. The two-
inch heels completed the outfit. I then venture into the bathroom and
picked out a wig. My usual, a short, brown bob and follow that with
light makeup. I feel so good to let Stephanie come out like this.
I spent my morning and afternoon dressed this way with the curtains
closed. I wondered what would happen if people found out. I'm a public
figure. So many people know me. What would happen?
That night I covered the football game. I changed my clothes before I
left my apartment. I still have the panties on. I put on pantyhose on
too because it's going to be a crisp fall night, but I'm wearing jeans,
a red Cornell hoodie,socks, and sneakers. Sometimes I look into the
stands and wonder how many other guys wear panties. I look out on the
field and wonder how many high school kids crossdress. How many were
like me and were terrified that they, as teenagers, loved wearing female
clothes? Thought they were freaks of society?
There could be some deranged man who holds up supermarkets and runs out
screaming. If they search his house and find women's shoes, they'll say,
"Oh, he's psycho crossdresser. That explains it all."
I've always felt that if I confessed to being a drug addict who deals
weapons, I would be more accepted than confessing to be a crossdresser.
That's what I told Susan just after I confessed that I was indeed a
crossdresser.
Since then, Susan tried to make me feel better about my crossdressing.
"It's no one's fault," she told me. "It's not your fault. It's not your
parent's fault. It is how your nature has mixed with your environment.
It is something within you."
That made me feel better. No one's fault. What a relief.
Jessup won a close game over Oakdale and the story nearly wrote itself.
Jessup rallied in the fourth quarter and won in the final minutes,
driving the length of the field for a touchdown to win by three points.
Those are the easy ones to write. The blowout are the tough.
And it is on these cold nights when satin panties feel even better. The
pantyhose keep me warm and make my legs tingle. I wonder how it would
feel if I walked the sidelines in slacks and a blouse with sensible
women's shoes.
By the time I get back to the office, I only have an hour to write my
story and download my photos. I really pushed deadline and Dan snapped
at me more than once to finish. Jena came over and helped me Photoshop
the pictures. I had trouble taking my eyes off her. She wore a purple
belted dress with buttons down the front. Pantyhose and three-inch
heels. Every now and then, when she turned a certain way, I saw glimpses
of her white lace bra and cleavage.
"Why are you dressed up?" I asked as I typed.
"I had a date tonight with my boyfriend," she said. "I was supposed to
have the night off, but it didn't turn out the way I expected, so I
decided to come in and help out tonight. I knew you guys were
shorthanded."
"You can dress this way every night," I smiled. "You look great."
"Sure," she laughed. "Shows off my fat ass."
I laughed.
"What's so funny? My fat ass."
"Jesus Christ, you're one of the most beautiful women I know."
She turned in her seat to face me with a grin stretch across her face.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," I echoed.
She turned back around and finished the photos and shouted to Dan across
the office that the photos were in. Dan jogged over to his computer and
uploaded them.
"I need that story now!" Dan shouted.
"It's in," I said. "Give it a quick read."
"We don't have time. I'm sending it."
I hate it when no one else proofs my articles.
HEADLINE: Jessup Ready for a Showdown
Dan sent everything to the presses and waited for the conformation.
"Okay, everyone," he said, only Jena and I were left, "Let's get out of
here. I have a few beers waiting for me."
We left out the back door. Dan dashed to his car and sped away.
Standing next to my van, I asked, "Want to tell me what happened?"
When Jena turned towards me her eyes filled with tears. She moved
towards my car and I climbed in. I reached over and opened the passenger
door for her. We sat in silence as the van warmed up.
"Do you care to tell me?"
"Well, I thought Keith was going to pop the question tonight. He said we
needed to talk. He dumped me."
Jena fell against me; her large breasts against my arm and chest. I
caressed her back, feeling her bra straps.
"Did he give you a reason?" I asked.
"One thing was that he wanted me to quit the paper."
"You live for the paper. Just like me."
"I know. He doesn't get that. He just sees the hours I put in here. He
thinks of it as just a job."
Her sobbing increased.
"He kept insisting that I lose weight."
I quickly piped in, "What an asshole."
She looked up at me. "You really don't think I'm fat."
"My God, no."
She smiled and leaned forward and kissed my lips. Fucking Jena Thompson
was kissing me. I kissed her. My hand slid down her waist, across her
hip, down her thigh, and back up again. Her hand slid under my hoodie
and rubbed my chest. I was making out with Jena Thompson. How far was
she going to go, I wondered, because I was wearing pantyhose and
panties.
"You're younger than me," she panted in my ear.
"Does that really matter?"
"What will people say?"
What would people say? I would say I'm one lucky son of a bitch.
"I hope they would say that I was one lucky son of a bitch."
"God," she moaned as she leaned further and straddled my right leg, now
practically on top of me. Her breast pressed against me as she kissed my
neck. Then pulled away from me and looked at me.
"Will you lay in the back with me?" she asked.
"Sure."
I turned off the engine and followed her to the bed in the back off my
van, thinking that this is my lucky day and I can't let her see my
pantyhose and panties. We slipped under the quilt and I thought that I
could slip out of them under the quilt without her seeing my feminine
clothing.
"I just want to hold you and kiss you," Jena said. "Is that okay?"
"Sure," I said as our faces were just inches from one another.
Jena rolled over on her back and disappeared under the quilt. When she
reappeared she tossed her dress and bra on the floor.
"Can you take off just your hoodie and shirt?" she asked. "I don't want
us to go any further."
I took them off. She snuggled against me and we kissed. We caressed and
eventually I was rubbing and suckling her breasts. I couldn't believe
how huge her breasts were and I couldn't believe how sensitive they
were. She orgasmed twice.
We fell asleep and woke when we heard birds chirping at dusk.
"Oh no," she cried out. "We need to get out of here before the day crew
comes in."
Jena flipped off the quilt and I nearly died seeing her pantyhose and
white linear stripe hipsters and nearly naked body. She climbed from the
bed, her large breasts jostling, and she slipped on her dress. She
slipped into her heels and tossed her bra in her purse. Then Jena turned
towards me and knelt down by the bed.
"I had a wonderful time," she smiled. "Can you call me when you get
home?"
"I will."
"You better."
She slide open the side door and disappeared.
How close I came in so many ways.
Makenna
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