Aliens and CowboysTaking Out the Trash
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Taking Out The Trash free porn video
Taking Out the Trash
By Rosie
Sarah took a big gulp from the pint her mother had placed before her. For a
minute, she felt that the feel of the beer flowing down her throat had
cooled her anger but after a while, it fueled it to even higher levels. She
was determined, more than ever before, to go through with the plan she had
devised for her husband, when he came back.
"If he comes back, you mean," her mother interjected.
"When he comes back," Sarah repeated with an eerie calmness to her voice.
She was still hung over the next day, when Peter rang the doorbell a little
after noon. Wordlessly, she let him in to the hallway. Before he could
follow her to the interior of the house, she stopped him.
"This is as far as you're going to come, in these clothes," she said,
flicking her finger in his general direction. Then, with three repeating
gestures, she pointed at a heap of clothes on the floor and left the
hallway, closing the door behind her.
Peter knew he had no choice but to put them on. He had tried to make her
reconsider her decision by arguments, pleads and begging. When that didn't
work, he ran away, and only when he realized that Sarah had made damn sure
there wouldn't be a cent to his name when he left, he came back. Resigned
to his fate, he started to take off his clothes.
When Peter finally entered the living room, he was wearing a frilled pink
silk blouse, a white pencil skirt, while high heeled shoes and full
lingerie. Because he couldn't remember seeing any of them on Sarah before,
and because every piece was nearly a perfect fit, he knew that Sarah had
bought these clothes deliberately for him to wear. He could also tell that
they weren?t from the cheapest stores.
?What did you do with your old clothes?? Sarah asked him dryly.
?I? I left them in the hallway,? he replied quietly.
?Take them to the trashcan,? she instructed him.
Peter?s heart started to race. Their driveway was fairly secluded but the
trashcan was almost on the street, where he would be easily seen.
?Please,? he started to plead, ?don?t make me go out dressed like that.?
Sarah gazed at him with little patience and compassion. After having
reiterating it so many times, she didn?t see sense anymore in taking the
time to calm down and explain to him that like that is the only way he
would be dressing from now on. She drew one last breath before she broke
her silence.
?One more peep out of you and you?ll be taking them to the neighbor?s
trashcan,? she barked.
Defeated, Peter returned to the hallway. Quietly, he gathered the clothes
he came in from the floor. He paused for a second before opening the front
door, then, drawing a breath as if before plunging in deep waters, he
slowly pried them open. Relieved that there was no one on the driveway to
witness his shame, he took the first hesitant step outside. Carefully, he
placed one high heeled foot on the asphalt below the doorstep, then the
other. As soon as he started to walk, another wave of panic swept over him.
The sound of his heels clacking against the ground seemed loud enough to
him to attract curious onlookers from both ends of the street. He tried to
modify his gait as to minimize the sound of his heels, but in his tight
skirt, and his arms too busy holding his old clothes to provide him with
any balance, that proved to be impossible. Left without a choice, he braved
on to the trashcan. The walk, which usually was only a matter of seconds,
seemed to last for ages this time. Still, he made it to the trashcan
without being seen by their neighbors.
To his despair, he found that the trashcan was turned with its back towards
the house, which meant that he would have to leave the shelter of the hefty
container and step out into the street if he wanted to reach the foot lever
to open the lid. Hunched behind the trashcan, he paused for a while to
gather his thoughts and steady his madly beating heart. When he felt a bit
calmer and lifted his gaze off the ground to look around, he saw his wife
looking at him from the kitchen window. For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Then, she made a shooing gesture with her hand which conveyed her thoughts
clearly enough. Go on. Stop wasting time.
Suddenly, he got an idea. Instead of walking all the way around the can, he
would open the lid from the side with one hand, and stuff his clothes in
with the other. But the heavy lid, and its rusty hinges, proved to be too
big of a challenge for his left arm. From a half opened position, the
closing lid had enough force to yank him along, making him drop everything
he was holding. For a second, it seemed to him that he still had things
under control, but his tight skirt prevented him from spreading his legs
wide enough to regain his balance. The momentum pushed him forward, making
him take another step in the same direction and that made him lose his hold
on the side handle of the lid. The lid came down with a resounding crash,
which he feared would attract attention from all of the neighbors on the
street. Unaccustomed to the short stride imposed by his skirt, and to his
high heels, he had to take a whole series of tiny, mincing steps before he
could finally stop, and even then he spent a few moments wildly flailing
his arms about him before he could be sure he would stay on his feet.
Engrossed in the battle to keep his balance, he straightened up
triumphantly, but as soon as he looked around, the triumphant mood vanished
instantly. He realized that he was now standing right in the middle of the
sidewalk, wearing a pink blouse, a skirt and high heels. Worse than that,
his old clothes were strewn around even further than that, and he knew that
his wife wouldn?t be satisfied until every single article was put in the
dumpster. Not wanting to lose a second more, he set to work. Too busy to
keep looking if someone could see him, he started picking up his clothes
from the sidewalk, and the street. Only when he was putting the first batch
in the trashcan, he heard a car pass him by. He shuddered in fright, but he
had little choice but to pick up the rest of his clothes. Almost crying
with humiliation, he didn?t notice that the car drove along and turned at
the corner, instead of pulling back to get a better look at him as he had
feared.
Eventually, he managed put all of his clothes into the trashcan and ran
back to the house as fast as his heels and tight skirt permitted him. Once
he was inside, it seemed to him as if all of his power had been drained
from him. He leaned his back on the closed front door and felt his legs
starting to give in and his back slowly sliding downwards against the door.
If he could only sit down for a minute, maybe even less, he felt everything
would be better. At the same time, he felt he had already wasted too much
time, and he didn?t want his blouse snagging on the rustic, rough surface
of the door.
Quickly, he pushed himself off the door back to his feet and started to
walk towards the living room. In front of the hallway mirror, his
reflection caught his eye. In his new clothes, he found himself to be a
grotesque mixture of masculinity and femininity. Moreover, he saw that his
outdoor exertions have left him looking a mess.
Without thinking, he started to tuck his blouse back into the waistband of
his skirt. In the far corner of his heart, he still entertained the hope
that once he came in, Sarah would tell him she was only kidding and let him
put on his own clothes again. Knowing his wife, though, he knew that it
wasn?t going to happen any time soon. He wondered, briefly, how long he
would have to keep dressing like that. Then, waking up to the world around
him, he was surprised to find that he had been rearranging his clothes the
whole time. He pulled the waistband of his skirt all the way up to his
ribcage and finished tucking his blouse. Then he slid his skirt back down
until it rested on his hips, straightening out his blouse as he did so. He
straightened out its frilly collar and finished the procedure by running an
open palm down the front of his skirt.
Strangely, he found his reflection a little more presentable and it was as
if that suddenly made him fully accept the reality of his situation. He had
just been given a taste of things that were to come. He didn?t know when,
or if at all, he would be finally allowed to dress like man again, but he
did know that it was not up to him. Rather than worry about that, he should
think about what he actually could do to make his life easier. Learning to
use makeup was one thing. Shaving his legs another, he said to himself as
he opened the door to the living room.
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