BEA S FIRST GANG BANG PART 1
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Leave It To Bea - Part Seven free porn video
Part Seven
Someone could write a decent doctoral dissertation on the subject of
recognizing crossdressers. As time went on, and as I went out dressed up
more often, I noticed an interesting phenomenon: about half of my friends
who knew the "male" me recognized me immediately when I was dressed as a
girl; the other half had no clue that it was me, sometimes, even when
they were told who I was. What is that combination of facial features
and body type and posture that some people perceive effortlessly while
others can't pick up on to save their lives? Like I say, it's a doctoral
dissertation in psychology waiting to be written.
But those days and that observation were in the future. Tonight was the
first time I would be in public appearing as a female. And right now was
the time I would show myself to the most important person in my life.
Stanley recognized me immediately.
Steven and I were in the salon waiting room when Stanley came in. He
took one look at me and just stopped and stared.
"You're beautiful, Bea."
"Thank you, Stanley."
Steven was acting like a mother sending her daughter off to the prom,
insisting on taking pictures of us. He made sure I had my purse, gave me
one last inspection, and sent us on our way. Stanley offered me his arm,
and we walked outside.
And with that, I walked out of Steven's familiar little salon and into
the world, dressed head to toe as a female. My hair was long, curled and
unmistakably feminine. With each step, my dress swished about my nyloned
thighs. Glossy red polish adorned my fingers and toes. Driving to the
restaurant, I contrasted Stanley's masculine dark slacks and sturdy shoes
with my own delicate ankles and heels. I saw familiar storefronts and
sights go by in the windshield as we drove along. They looked the same,
but I was seeing them through different eyes. Prettier eyes, to be sure,
but a lot more than that. Calmer. Somehow more peaceful, but excited at
the same time. It wasn't the sights that were changing; it was me.
We got to the restaurant and Stanley opened the door for me. I swung my
legs out together, and he took my hand in his to help me gently out of
the car. Gently. Delicately. I could get used to being treated this
way. I straightened my shoulders, readjusted my balance on my high
heels, and reminded myself to sway as I walked. Stan and I walked into
the restaurant. The doorman looked me over from head to toe, his eyes
lingering on my bustline before concentrating on my legs. When we got to
our table, the maitre d' helped me into my chair. Doors opened for me,
chairs held out for me, being openly admired physically. I was getting
tingly with the discovery of all these little details that are familiar
to women, but never experienced by men. Real men, anyway. I didn't
think I quite counted as one of those anymore.
The dinner was lovely, but I barely noticed the food. I was overwhelmed
to everyone around us, Stan and I were obviously a couple. Anyone would
naturally assume that we were involved romantically. In the crudest
terms, all these people would look at us and assume that Stan and I were
having sex with each other, or if not, that we would. They were looking
at me and assuming that I was his passive sexual partner. That their
assumptions were correct didn't have anything to do with it. Rick and I
had always kept our encounters secret. Even Stan and I knew better than
to let on that he and I, or at least, the male version of me, were having
sex. But dressed this way, in my pretty dress, I could be honest.
People assumed that I was Stan's girlfriend. And more than ever before,
I was.
After dinner, we drove up to Scenic Drive, right at the end of the
Franklin Mountains that run through El Paso. There's a scenic overlook
there where you can see the Rio Grande and almost all of the city of
Juarez, El Paso's "sister city" in Mexico. I snuggled up next to him and
we looked out over the lights and talked for a long time. I talked about
all the new sensations and feelings I was having as a girl, and about the
"honesty" I felt being with him in public dressed as a woman. Strangely
enough, he had come to the same realization. The thing I realized is
that as much as I liked dressing up in panties and stockings and a pretty
dress and makeup and high heels and going out and showing myself in
public, Stanley enjoyed it when I did that, too, and for many of the same
reasons. When I dressed as a girl, we didn't have to hide. We liked
being honest, and not hiding. But I had this problem of the identity
that I had carried for the last twenty years of my life. Stan asked if I
wanted to make the change permanent. On one hand, the answer was, "God,
yes!" and on the other hand, it would mean changing everything...
But we were smart. Between the two of us, we would come up with
something.
After the first one, we had a lot of evenings like that. And not just
evenings. Steven taught me about daytime makeup, too. I acquired quite
a collection of women's wear. Shorts, tops, skirts, more dresses. And
shoes. Lots of shoes. Over the summer, with almost constant practice,
my mannerisms, posture, and vocal inflections became more and more
feminine. The only time I wasn't dressed as a girl was when I went to
work, and that was becoming an inconvenience.
My job didn't pay that much, but I liked it, and I liked the owners of
the store, Mister and Mrs. Perez. They had been good to me, allowing me
to adjust my work schedule around classes, and giving me extra hours
between semesters. I didn't want to just walk out on them. They had a
small staff, and if I left, it would be a hardship on them. On the other
hand, I couldn't just show up one day in a dress. I worried about that
one for a long time. Maybe it was that familiar old guilt coming back to
haunt me. Was I ashamed of telling the Perez's the truth about me? Or
was I afraid of their reaction, and losing them as friends? Stan and I
talked it over for a long time, until he suggested that if they weren't
pretty good people, I wouldn't like them so much. He said maybe I wasn't
giving them enough credit. So I screwed up my courage and asked Mister
Perez one day if I could talk to him after work. We closed up the store
and sat down, and over coffee, I told him all about the last few months.
The last few years, actually. I watched his face. He had a kindly old,
weatherbeaten face, very expressive, but I couldn't read a thing. He
just listened. I told him everything up to the present, including the
fact that, except for work, I was spending all my time dressed as a girl.
He listened to everything, and when I finished, he considered it for
awhile, and got up and refilled my coffee cup.
"I suppose the Missus and I should have Stanley and this young woman over
to the house for supper soon." I couldn't think of what to say, so I
just hugged him instead. I felt so accepted, and it made me love him and
Mrs. Perez even more, but I was still worried about work, and how could
we make that change. He said not to worry; he and Mrs. Perez would
figure it out.
I went home that night and changed into a casual skirt and top. Then I
gathered up all my old boy clothes and put them in a suitcase, not
knowing if I would ever open it again. Stan and I had dinner with the
Perez's later that week, and they suggested that we simply introduce Bea
as the new employee next week. (Mrs. Perez thought I was muy linda.)
As summer went on, I became more comfortable with life as a female. It
became my new "normal." Every day, I got up and showered, shaved my
legs, put on makeup, styled my hair, then donned lingerie and a cute
little outfit and went out. I still noticed women, but now, I mostly
looked at their outfits, wondering how that outfit would look on me, or
wondering where she found those fabulous shoes. Maybe someone read me,
but if they did, they never gave any indication. My feminine mannerisms
were becoming more and more second nature, and I wondered if I would ever
be able to go back to being a boy again.
A new semester was about to begin, and my "summer of femininity" was
about to end. Classes were getting ready to start, and I was going to
have to move back into the dorm. I had only been dressing full time for
a few weeks, wasn't worried about going back to classes dressed as a
girl. UTEP was a university, after all, and there were plenty of openly
gay students on campus. The problem was the dorm. No way would they let
me live in the dorm any more dressed like a girl. It was going to be an
adjustment going back to "normal." Now that I was "Bea" at work, I was
going to have to drop by Stanley's after classes and change before going
to the store. What a pain! I hadn't thought of that little
complication... On the other hand, living in the dorm and dressing as a
male was my only remaining connection to my old life, to my masculinity.
This summer had been a fun little game, but it was time to grow up and go
back to reality.
Stan saw me filling out some dorm paperwork one afternoon. We admitted
that it was time for our summer experiment to end. Stan's landlord had
allowed him to let me live at his place for the summer, but once the fall
semester started, I couldn't continue to live there "unofficially." He
had already asked her about the fall, and the only way I could stay was
if I jointly signed the lease. And that would mean living and dressing
as a girl 24/7. And there was no way I could do that.
"What do you mean, 'I can't do that,' Nellie?" asked Steven. I was at
the salon getting my hair done. The summer had allowed him to go "full
girl" on my hair, and Steven had spent the last few weeks giving me a
gorgeous, shoulder length mane of curls that couldn't remotely be
described as unisex. In a few days, I was going to have to trim it back
to a more conservative style, and I hated the idea of losing my beautiful
hair.
"Steven, if I don't move back into the dorm, I'm going to have to live
full time as a girl. I'd be giving up everything!"
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Princess, you need to do some soul
searching. Do you really want to go back to living as a man? You've
been so happy this summer, I can tell." He turned the chair so that I
was looking at myself in the mirror. "You need to figure out that this
is the real you. If you move back into the dorm and start dressing like
a man again, you're going to be playing a role. It's going to make you
crazy."
I thought about what Steven said for a long time. He was an outrageous
queen, but he was one of the wisest people I knew. Maybe he was right...
Could I really live as a woman full time? I was still biologically a
man, with a penis, testicles, and a flat chest. My legs and body hair
were gone, and I had painted nails, and I smelled like a girl, and I had
long, womanly hair, but underneath all the lingerie and frills, I was
still a man.
Maybe for one semester...
Stan and I talked it over with his landlady. If I were going to live in
his apartment in the Fall, I would have to co-sign the lease. She was a
nice lady, very businesslike and understanding, and she offered that she
didn't really care how I dressed. But the issue was that if I moved in
with Stan permanently, I would have run out of "excuses" to dress as a
male. Work, class, home... All of those places knew me, or would know
me, as Bea. I'd be setting aside the male role I had played for a
lifetime, and literally signing myself to a full time life of panties,
dresses, perfume, and high heels. All those new experiences I had
encountered this summer, the men opening doors for me, and leering at my
body, and being a "passive, vulnerable" person, and being another man's
girlfriend... All of that would be permanent and, for all practical
purposes, legal.
I took the pen in in my manicured hand and signed the form. We walked
back to our apartment and when Stan opened the door, he picked me up and
carried me over the threshold. I got the suitcase containing all my boy
clothes, and Stan and I dropped it off at Goodwill.
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