BEA S FIRST GANG BANG PART 1
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Leave It To Bea - Part Five free porn video
Part Five
The weather was getting warmer. My new hair didn't cause any major stir.
A lot of girls liked it, and the guys were too busy looking at girls to
notice. I had a standing appointment with Steven every two weeks. He
must have been giving me the "queens' discount" or something, because he
only charged me ten dollars a visit. Visiting Steven was like going to
another college class after he introduced me to makeup. He started out
showing me about eye shadow and mascara, and in later visits, foundation,
blush, and lipstick. He was a harsh taskmaster. Once he showed me a
technique, he removed it and made me reapply it myself, scolding me if I
applied too much. "You don't want to look like a drag queen, Joanne!"
But it worked. After a few weeks, I got really good. With my hair
fluffed out and full makeup, I didn't just look like a girl, I looked
like a pretty girl. The strangest thing was looking in the mirror and
seeing my grandmother looking back at me. Not my grandmother today, but
the one from her old pictures, when she was young and dating my grand
dad. That had been back in the thirties, and she had worn those midi
skirts, sweaters, and knitted hats, just like Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and
Clyde. She had been a real beauty, and it was disconcerting, but somehow
reassuring, that I looked a lot like her.
Every time I tried something new, something more feminine, Stanley loved
it. When we saw each other around campus, it was the same old Stanley,
but on weekends, he treated me like a girl. He was sweet and attentive
and gentle (except when I didn't want him to be.) I still couldn't
figure out if I was just a temporary thing with him, like those guys did
with each other back in Tanzania, or if he saw us as a long term thing.
But I didn't know that about myself, either. I was spending five days a
week in denial about us. What were we doing? Did it matter? Whatever
it was, we spent weekends pleasuring each other, making his apartment our
own little world.
One night in April, Stanley and I were sitting on the couch making out.
I was wearing a pair of short shorts, sheer to the waist pantyhose, and a
crop top. My legs were draped across his. He reached behind himself on
the couch and pulled out a little box. The kind that jewelry comes in.
My heart skipped a beat until I realized that the box was too large for a
ring. But he presented the box to me and said, "This is for you."
"Stanley, what is it?"
"Look inside." I took the box from him and slowly opened it. A
necklace. With a delicate little gold chain, and a green stone in a
delicate pear-shaped setting. It was beautiful. I took it out of the
box. Stanley took the ends of the chain and fastened it around my neck.
"Let me see it," I said. I simply had to see it on me. (Do all girls
act like that?) I looked in the mirror. It was beautiful. And it made
me look beautiful. With the addition of the necklace, I looked
unmistakably female. Accented by the necklace, my hair looked
unmistakably female, no more "androgyny." Somehow, it made my eyes look
bigger.
"It's an emerald, like your eyes."
"Stanley, a real emerald? How much did you pay for this?"
"Don't worry about that; it's good to have relatives in Africa."
"Stanley, I don't deserve-"
"Yes you do. You look beautiful. I want you to wear it and never take
it off."
"Stanley, I can't do that. I have to go back to the dorm and live in-"
"Never take it off."
"Okay. Thank you, Stanley. I... Thank you." Our lovemaking that night
was luxuriously slow. Gentle. I mounted Stanley in the cowgirl
position, undulating my hips, working him deeply in and out of me. I
leaned forward, until my emerald touched his chest.
So I wound up wearing shirts all the time in the dorm, keeping my
necklace underneath. And long pants, hiding my legs. And that one week
when I forgot to take off my nail polish, I wore shoes or socks,
constantly. And made sure my roommate was in class whenever I showered.
I started wondering why I was going to all this trouble, but it was only
for a few more weeks before the end of the semester. Stanley and I had
already invited me to stay with him over the summer, and I was looking
forward to not having to worry about hiding things.
"So... What do you two kids do all weekend?" Steven asked during one of
my appointments.
"What do you think we do, Aunt Stephanie?" (He had me talking that way
now, at least when I was around him.)
"Oh, I know about that, Joanne. I just wondered what you did when you
weren't doing each other."
"Well... I like to cook for him, and we watch TV, and we go to work..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Sounds pretty boring. Listen, Princess,
it's time you went to the ball. Meaning out. On a date. Dressed as a
girl. You two need to get out of that apartment and do something as a
couple."
"Jesus, Steven, I can't go out in public. I can't pass as a girl!"
"Honey, have you looked at yourself in the mirror? I have customers your
age that would sell their souls to look as pretty as you. If you'd only
let me style your hair into something really feminine instead of that
unisex thing you've been forcing me to go with, you'd look totally
female."
"But I could never walk like a girl. And there are mannerisms that would
give me away."
"Joanne, I hate to break it to you, but now that you've been getting
fucked regularly by that large black man you have around, you've been
developing feminine mannerisms. You're no dizzy queen, but you're
halfway to acting like a girl already." Somehow, my manhood was
insulted...
"I am?"
"Funny how walking around with a quart of sperm inside you can make you
act that way..."
"Steven, don't be gross."
"I'm just saying, you'll get the mannerisms. You already have them; you
just need to focus on doing them instead of not doing them."
"But I don't have any nice women's clothes...just shorts and crop tops."
"Yeah, I think Ellen can help you with that..." Steven called her and I
heard him say, "It's GO TIME for the Princess." Ellen arranged a
private, after hours showing for me at Dillards. Steven went into drill
sergeant mode, giving me a list of all the things I would need to get and
what I would have to do and by God, when I would have to do it.
We decided to keep my "debut" a secret from Stanley. That meant that I
would be keeping my outfit over at Steven's salon, which was fine because
he refused to let me do my own makeup for my first night out as a girl.
He and I went over to Dillard's and met with Ellen. There was so much to
buy! Not just an outfit, but a "real" bra, and shoes, a purse, and other
accessories. First stop: shapewear. I had always been skinny
("delicate," as Ellen described it) which was great, but, except for my
butt, I didn't have much of a girlish shape below the waist. Ellen
selected a padded girdle to give me more pronounced hips. Then she took
all kinds of measurements: waist, hips, chest, middle chest, upper
chest... Finally, she pronounced me a 36.
"A 36 what?" I asked.
"A 36 whatever-you-want, but don't go overboard, honey. We want you to
look like a girl, not a drag queen." Steven brought out three pairs of
breast forms he had brought from the salon. I tried on several bras,
inserting different breast forms to see how each one looked. After that,
I tried on a dress just to see how my new boobies looked fully clothed.
After several different combinations of breast forms and dresses, and
lots of intense scrutiny from Steven and Ellen, we decided on a 36 B.
The bra we decided on was a pretty white one with lace-trimmed cups,
nothing fancy or outrageous. Steven said I needed to worry about
practicality for my first "real" bra. Ellen gave me a full slip to wear
while we looked for dresses. But then Steven put dress shopping on hold
while we sized shoes.
"You're going to need some heels wear while we look at dresses, Sweetie."
(Were we EVER going to get to the dresses??) Steven picked out a pair of
simple black pumps with a 2 1/2" heels just to give me the right posture
while we shopped. Finally, Ellen led me over to the Juniors section. It
felt a little strange walking through Dillards wearing heels, stockings,
and a slip, but there was no one there but Ellen and Stanley, and I was
preoccupied looking at all the cute outfits. Some were dressy, some were
casual, others were hideous. I was overwhelmed by all the choices.
Solids, patterns, big prints, small prints, wrap dresses, a-lines, short
sleeves, long sleeves, no sleeves, scoop necks, v-necks... Oh, and they
all came in different colors!
I just wanted to pick out a nice dress, but Steven and Ellen had a
system. They had me try on some different styles so they could see which
shapes were most flattering. I liked the look and feel of the wrap
dresses, but the A-Lines made me look more curvy. I kept getting
distracted by things like ruffled necklines and leopard prints, but
Steven kept steering me back to more simple styles. Finally, we had it
narrowed down to ltwo: a dark blue stretchy polyester knit with mid-
length sleeves, a v-neck, and a gorgeous flouncy skirt, the other a
pastel green cotton-polyester blend with cap sleeves and a very feminine
lace overlay. Both hemlines fell to about two inches above my knees.
Steven and Ellen had me walk around in the blue knit dress while they
scrutinized me.
Walking around in a dress while wearing high heels was a whole new
experience. I had worn my heeled sandals on weekends for months now, so
I was accustomed to the different balance and posture needed to walk in
heels, but this was different. With each step, I felt the hemlines
flounce around my thighs. The fabrics were softer, and they tickled
my...well, they tickled everywhere. I liked it. But the biggest change
was in my walk. All my life, even over the last few months with Stanley,
I had had a straightforward male walk. That was impossible dressed the
way I was now. The heels shifted my weight forward, and I had to take
delicate steps, not strides. And once I figure that out, I realized that
my upper body couldn't sway from side to side, and then I figured out
that my hips were supposed to sway. All this took place in the space of
about 30 seconds, as I took a few halting steps, then turned, readjusted
my posture, then took a few more steps, internally analyzing my
movements. Steven was (uncharacteristically) silent while I did all
this, but he was watching me closely with a very satisfied half-smile on
his face.
"You're a natural, girlfriend."
I allowed myself to feel flattered. The truth is that it felt natural,
even though I had never moved or walked like this before. Was it
possible to feel familiarity with something that you had never done?
"Take a seat in that chair, cross your legs, then get up and walk again,"
said Ellen. I walked, sashayed, over to the chair, sat down, and crossed
my legs, loving the feel of my hosiery and my slip and the hemline of the
dress all drape around my thighs.
"Almost perfect, but remember to reach back and smooth your dress under
you when you sit down," she said. I tried it again, then got up and
walked around some more, refining my movements.
"Let's try the green one now," said Steven, and he unzipped me while I
stepped out of the blue one, then tried on the lacy green one. The
flouncy little cap sleeves tickled my upper arms, and the lace overlay
felt very feminine. I walked around again, practicing, avoiding any
boyish lurches and trying to flow...to undulate...across the room. I
noticed that my lower back became more fluid, allowing my hips to sway.
Forcing myself to carry my body in such a feminine way did something to
my attitude. I realized that when I did go out in public dressed this
way, I'd be very purposefully presenting a feminine image to the world,
not just in my clothing, but in my movements, and most important, in my
frame of mind. What was a feminine frame of mind? It was more
vulnerable, more exposed, more emotional, more...motherly...and a million
other things that I was going to have to learn. I wondered if it might
turn out to be a lot easier to change back into boys clothes than to
change back into a masculine frame of mind. Would I even want to?
Because I was intoxicated with the way I felt and I didn't want it to
end.
But it had to, of course. We had been in the store for two hours and it
was getting late. Time to decide on a dress. They were both beautiful.
The green lace overlay was very feminine and traditional. Something I
could picture my Grandmother wearing back in the twenties, but still very
stylish. The dark blue was less formal, more versatile, something I
could see in an office, or in church, or on a date. In the end, we all
agreed that the blue A-line showed off my curves better, especially when
I walked. And the neckline "framed" my necklace, as if they were made
for each other.
I thought we were done, but then Steven dragged me back over to the shoe
department. I'm glad he was there, because he seemed to know exactly
what he was looking for, and I wasn't up to another selection process
like we'd had with the dresses. He walked through the racks of shoes,
chuckling occasionally, or muttering, "Oh God, those are hideous!"
Whatever he was thinking, it worked. Steven brought me a pair of dark
blue, almost black, open-toed slingbacks, with a pretty little satin bow
over the instep. Classy, versatile, and very feminine. I put them on
and walked a few steps. And taking those steps, swinging my hips, I got
that change in me frame of mind again. It didn't feel familiar or quite
natural, but it felt good. I wondered what Stanley would think when he
saw me. I could guess. But I also wondered what I would think when the
whole world saw me like this. And I didn't have a clue.
But I wanted to find out.
Eisley
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