The Liberation Of Father Mortimer
- 4 years ago
- 100
- 0
My First Time free porn video
My First Time
This is a true account of my first visit to the wonderful dressing
service I use. Everything happened as I describe, except for the fact
that I have changed the name of the dressing service and the two lovely
people who run it. Over the years they have become good friends and I
want to preserve their privacy from casual readers. If, however, after
reading of my experience, anyone thinks they would like to make a visit
themselves, they are very welcome to email me and we can talk further
off-line.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I have known I was "different" from a very early age. I can't remember
precisely at what age I started trying on my mother's clothes, but I was
young! As I grew older I realised that what I was doing was not usual for
boys of my age and, I guess like many, I was upset and thought there must
be something wrong with me. It was not until the discovery of the
Internet several years later my eyes were opened. Suddenly I discovered
that I wasn't alone; there was a worldwide sisterhood of similarly minded
people - both men and women - who identified themselves with the opposite
gender. I researched avidly and soon came to the conclusion that, within
the whole spectrum of transgender, the term which best described me was
"crossdresser". I started to correspond with a few others who seemed to
be much like me.
Through one of these new friends I learned about "Illusions". This is a
dressing service situated just to the west of London and conveniently
located close to major road routes and Heathrow airport. I spent quite a
lot of time on their website, looking at photos of some of their clients
and reading about how they operated.
After some agonising, I plucked up courage and rang the contact number
given on the website. As the phone rang I panicked and very nearly put
the phone down - boy, am I glad I didn't!! A well spoken female voice
came on the line; "Hello, this is Illusions, can I help you?" My mouth
went dry but I managed to stammer out that I had been recommended to take
a look at their website by one of their existing clients. "Oh, and who
was that?" the voice responded. I gave the femme name of my friend; "Yes
we know her" came the reply, "she is a regular customer and a good
friend." I started to relax a bit. "And what is your name?" was the next
question. I had anticipated that I would be asked this and was able to
reply "Caroline". The lady of the phone continued; "well my name is Anne.
How can we help you? Are you thinking of coming to see us?" I said that I
was interested possibly making a booking for one of their makeovers and
we started to talk about what was involved.
I explained that whilst I had experimented with women's clothing over the
years, I had never before visited a dressing service that offered to
transform me into the image of what I felt myself to be inside. Anne was
very sweet. She was calm, sensible and warm. Our conversation was
entirely professional as she probed my previous experience and the sort
of thing I was seeking. She made it absolute clear that theirs was a
dressing service and that no other services were on offer. That suited me
as the last thing I was after was some sleazy sex venue.
We discussed possible dates for me to visit Illusions and Anne suggested
that, for my first time, I book their basic, 2-hour, 1-outfit package. I
willing acceded to her suggestion and we agreed a date. Anne then gave me
instructions of how to find them. Sensibly they did not give their
precise address on their website, nor did she tell me over the phone.
Explaining that as many of their phone enquires proved to be from time-
wasters, they never gave complete details to anyone over the phone.
Instead she provided very clear instructions of the route from the nearby
motorway to a small shopping complex near to their house. Once there I
was to ring her and, having proved I was serious about the booking, she
would then give me the final directions.
On the agreed date, and at the agreed time, I carefully followed Anne's
instructions and found, without difficulty, the shopping complex. Now was
the moment of final decision. Did I have the balls - (pardon the
expression in relation to a cross-dressing makeover!) - to go through
with this? I knew I would never forgive myself if I chickened out now,
so, taking a deep breath, I rang the Illusions number. Anne answered and
sounded pleased when I said who I was and that I was now sitting in my
car outside the shopping complex. To check I was telling the truth, Anne
asked me for the name of the pub on the corner of the street. I looked
round, spotted the pub, and told her the name. Anne's voice relaxed;
"well so you really are nearby" she said, giving me the final few
instructions for finding them.
The address proved to be a modern detached house at the end of a cul-du-
sac on a small estate. It looked to be a fairly up-market area and I was
somewhat surprised that it was possible to run a dressing service in so
unlikely a location. I parked my car and approached the house. Final
point of decision; I rang the bell.
An attractive woman of about my age opened the door. She greeted me with
a warm smile. "Welcome Caroline" she said; "come in and take your shoes
off." I entered and removed my shoes. Anne's house was immaculate and I
could see why she didn't want me walking over her carpets in outdoor
shoes.
Anne indicated I should proceed upstairs where she showed me into her
makeover room. At one time it had clearly been the fourth bedroom of the
house but it was now set up in a way that made my eyes boggle. It was
absolutely packed with feminine accoutrements. Running all round the
room, at high level, was a shelf crammed with wigs of all colours and
styles, each on its own wig-stand. Below that, against one wall, was a
dressing table piled high with boxes of different make-up products. Tubes
of foundation cream jostled with powder compacts; lipsticks; eye-shadow;
and mascara. There was a profusion of different sized brushes and tubs of
make-up remover and boxes of tissues.
The space under the dressing table was full of shoes. Again they came in
a variety of different styles, from tetteringly high stilettos to simple,
low-heeled court shoes. Several pairs of boots, including a gorgeous pair
of thigh-high pvc ones, were stacked in a corner.
Next along the same wall was a chest-of-drawers that I soon discovered
contained a profusion of underwear - panties (in all sorts of cuts and
colours), bras; corsets; and control-knickers. A bag by the dresser was
overflowing with stockings and tights.
Turning to the next wall, there were yet more shoes; a mannequin in a
spangled dress; and a tower photo-frame displaying clients in their full,
feminine glory. The third wall had a sofa against it. Above the sofa were
shelves of boxes containing silicon breast forms and hooks displaying a
wide range of different necklaces.
The final side of the room contained the window. On the windowsill there
were yet more boxes overflowing with earrings, bracelets and brooches. A
mirror occupied the centre of the windowsill, but it was covered with a
scarf, thus preventing anyone from seeing their reflection whilst being
made over. The centre of the room contained a high-seat chair facing the
window.
Anne asked me if I had any special idea about the sort of outfit I might
like to wear for this first makeover. I told her I hadn't a clue and
would be more than happy to leave the decision to her! Anne then pulled
open a drawer crammed with panties and asked me to choose a one. I picked
a fairly plain black panty, trimmed with lace each side of the front
panel, that looked as though it would provide sufficient support where
needed! She then handed me a pink nylon robe, a towel, and a flannel and
showed me into the bathroom, where she told me to undress, put on the
panties and return to the make-over room. I hurriedly did so and,
carefully tying the robe to the correct, female side, carried my pile of
clothes back to where she was waiting.
I put my clothing on the sofa and took my place on the chair. The first
thing Anne did was to apply a pad of cleanser all over my face to remove
any excess oils. She then selected a few of tubes of foundation and tried
them out until she was satisfied she had found the correct one for my
colouring. The foundation was then applied with a small foam pad until
Anne was satisfied that a smooth base had been achieved. She then used a
large brush to powder the foundation down and ensure that it was set.
Next Anne turned her attention to my eyes, applying eye-shadow in various
tones of blue and purple, getting me to stretch my eyelids and open and
close my eyes as required. She explained that she was using a lighter
colour to help mask out my natural eyebrows, before using a brown pencil
to mark in a new arch. Then the mascara; I found it very difficult to sit
still and not to blink as she manoeuvred the brush across my lashes. I
watched with interest as Anne selected a pair of false eyelashes and
carefully applied glue, before fixing them to my upper eyelid. I had to
keep my eyes shut whilst the glue dried. When, eventually, I was allowed
to open them, I was surprised at the weight of the false lashes and the
way they intruded into my line of vision. It did not take long, however,
for this sensation to fade and for me to become comfortable wearing them.
Finally, as far as the eyes were concerned, Anne asked me to close them
once again whilst she applied liquid liner to both upper and lower lids.
Blusher was used to highlight my cheekbones and then, finally, it was
time put on lipstick. Anne took some while to prepare an appropriate
outline. She used a lip pencil to draw a line slightly above and below my
natural lip profile, explaining that this would give me a fuller, more
feminine look. Once Anne was satisfied with the outline, she used a small
brush to paint in a deep pink lipstick, finishing off with a dab of
glossy fixer. Anne smiled down at me, "your make-up is finished; we can
now set about getting you dressed".
It had taken Anne about three-quarters of an hour to do my make-up. When
she started I was still quite nervous and tense but, as she chatted away
to me, I started to calm down and found myself enjoying the experience. I
had never had someone pampering me like this before and it was very
pleasurable. I loved the smell of the various products, the weight of my
false eyelashes, and the greasy feel of the lipstick.
As we talked it emerged that Anne and I had several interests in common -
apart from cross-dressing! - and I started to feel as though we were two
girlfriends who had just settled down for a chat.
Having completed my make-up, Anne asked me to stand and slip off my robe.
(Remember I had still not been able to see the outcome of her work at
this stage and thought I must present a pretty odd sight standing in
front of her wearing only a pair of skimpy knickers on my hairy male
body, with my face all painted under a short masculine hair cut!) I guess
I should have felt embarrassed standing there with almost nothing on, in
front of a woman I hadn't met until one brief hour before, but I didn't.
Anne was very matter-of-fact and I now felt very much at ease.
Anne looked me up and down in a critical way. "Well, we will need to trim
something off your belly" she announced, "and you have rather a lot of
body hair. I have a dress that has a high neckline that will conceal your
chest but I you will definitely need to wear opaque stockings". Turning
to her underwear dresser, she produced a deep, black suspender belt with
six garters hanging down. I held this in place, slightly above my waist,
whilst Anne fastened it at the back. She then handed me a pair of black
60 denier stockings and I sat down to roll them up my legs. I clipped
them to the front suspenders and Anne helped do them up at the back. "You
will know you have arrived as a woman when you don't need help fastening
your stockings" she joked.
Once the stockings were securely fastened, Anne had me stand again and
wrapped a short corset round my torso. Having clipped it on at the front
she started to tighten the laces. "I won't pull them too tight on this
first occasion" she said "but I do need to give you some shape to your
body." Well she might have not thought she was lacing me tightly, but boy
did my breathing suddenly get shallower! Once tied-off, I found I quite
liked the sensation of firm control around my tummy.
A front-fastening, long-line, black brassiere was next. I pulled the cups
together whilst Anne fiddled with all the hooks-and-eyes. She then
produced a pair of silicon breast forms from the boxes on the shelf in
front of me and inserted them into my bra cups. She spent some time
pulling at the loose flesh of my chest and, when she had finished, I
found I boasted quite a respectable cleavage! Finally, in the underwear
department, Anne produced a pair of high-waist control knickers. They
were quite tight and difficult to get on, but once in place they evened
out the edges of the corset and bra and ensured that no unsightly lines
would be visible through my dress.
Before getting my dress, Anne asked me my shoe size and, kneeling down,
rummaged amongst the pile of shoes in the corner and handed me a couple
of pairs. "Try these," she said, "not too high a heel for your first
time." The first pair I tried was a bit tight, but the second pair fitted
perfectly. I looked down my body, past my wonderful new breasts, over my
corseted waist to my tightly gartered black stockings and my feet,
daintily shod in simple black court shoes with a 3 inch heel. I literally
reeled with excitement.
Anne produced the dress she had selected for me. It was a simple, dark-
grey, velveteen sheath that fell to my knee. This was worn with a
matching, similar length, coat. I bent my head as Anne gathered the dress
and slipped it on me. She pulled and tugged it into place and then helped
me into the coat.
"Nearly there," she announced. "Now back to the chair." I sat down and
Anne proceeded to put a wig on my head. She asked me to hold it at the
front whilst she tugged it into place at the back. I could feel that it
was a long wig from the weight and sensation of hair falling over my
shoulders. However, Anne wasn't finished yet. She started piling the hair
on top of my head, fastening it in place with a multitude of hairpins.
Eventually she seemed satisfied and tidied a strand of hair which she had
arranged to fall each side of my face.
Turning, Anne selected a simple silver chain necklace with a little heart
pendant from the vast number that hung on the wall. She fastened this
round my neck before clipping a pair of silver, diamante, hoop earrings
to my lobes. A black, beaded bracelet was slid onto each wrist and I
though we were finally finished. However, standing slightly back with a
thoughtful look on her face, Anne announced, "It just needs one finishing
touch." She produced a beautiful, swirly, silver brooch which she pinned
to the left side of my coat.
"Now let's go and see how you like it," Anne said, with a smile; I could
hardly wait. Anne ushered me out of the dressing room and into the next
door bedroom. One wall was lined with fitted cupboards, each with a full-
length mirror. I turned and looked at myself in one of them. My jaw
dropped; I could not believe what I saw. It wasn't my reflection looking
back at me, but rather that of a youngish, fairly attractive woman!! I
very nearly burst into tears, but remembered in time that I was wearing
mascara!
Anne stood smiling in the doorway. Clearly my reaction was not untypical.
"Do you like it?" she asked. "Like it; I love it!" I responded. "I never
thought in my wildest dreams that I could ever look like this. I can
hardly recognise myself."
"Well come downstairs and meet my husband, Simon. He will take some
photographs if you like so that you have a souvenir of today."
We carefully descended the stairs. They weren't particularly steep but
Anne cautioned care in my unfamiliar heels. It certainly felt odd walking
in heels, but I was quickly finding that I could manoeuvre in them.
Anne called out to her husband that I was ready and downstairs and Simon
came out of his study and said hello. Like Anne, I guessed he was about
the same age as me. "You look lovely," he complimented me. "Would you
like me to take some photographs?"
"Oh no," I stammered in reply, "I couldn't. There would be too much risk
that someone might see them inadvertently."
"I can show you how to hide them on your computer" Simon responded, but
he quickly realised I was too scared to have my photo taken and did not
press the point.
"What would you like to do now?" queried Anne. "You have another hour
left on your booking. We have a special lounge for our guests and, if you
like, you can sit in there, admire yourself in the mirror, read tranny
magazines or watch a video. Alternatively, if you would prefer, we can
offer you a drink and we can all chat together." Well I didn't want to
sit by myself so I eagerly accepted her second suggestion. Simon poured
us each a glass of wine and we retired to their sitting room where we sat
sipping our drinks and chatting about all sorts of subjects.
Both Anne and Simon were careful not to pry and did not ask me questions
about my personal life and situation. However, as I had already
discovered, we all had several interests in common so conversation was
not difficult. All too soon Anne announced that it was, regretfully, time
for me to get changed back into my own clothes. I really didn't want to
and resolved, there and then, that just as soon as I could I would make
another booking and for a longer session!
I reluctantly followed Anne upstairs, where she helped me out of my
clothes and back into my robe. She then proceeded to clean my face of all
the make-up she had spent so much time and care in applying. Once she was
satisfied she had removed all the make-up, I was sent into the bathroom
with instructions to wash thoroughly and ensure that all residual traces
were removed. "If I find any trace when you come back" Anne announced
"there will be a 20p fine!" Fortunately I managed to avoid being fined!
Once back in my own clothes, I paid Anne what I owed her and went
downstairs to say goodbye to Simon. As I left Anne kissed me on the
cheek; "we look forward to seeing you again," she said. "Well it won't be
long, if I can organise myself some free time!" I replied.
I got back into my car and drove off. I was in a bit of a daze. I found
it hard to comprehend that I had just spent two glorious hours as a
woman. I had found my "Caroline" persona, and once out of her box she
wasn't going to go back in anytime soon! Needless to say, I was already
regretting that I hadn't got a photograph to remind me of the day, but
that really was a risk too far.
(However, as you may imagine, it only took another couple of visits to
Illusions for me to summon up the courage to have my picture taken and,
true to his word, Simon did, carefully, explain how I could minimise the
risk of my photographs being inadvertently discovered by burying them
deep in the file structure of my computer.)
I returned to Illusions many times and became one of Anne and Simon's
favoured customers - one of the "Illusions Girls"! On about my fourth
visit I asked Anne if she could repeat the outfit I had worn on this
first occasion and she readily agreed. This time I did allow Simon to
photograph me in my lovely grey dress and coat, so I do, finally, have my
souvenir!
Mikayla
- 25.04.2021
- 19
- 0
