Reconciliation
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A Kind Of Reconciliation free porn video
A Kind of Reconciliation:
We were both very young when Jennifer and I got married. It feels like a
lifetime ago now. Jennifer was two years older than me and came from a
broken home. Her father was one of those men who had never recovered
from the scars of his own childhood and brought them into his family
home. He was an abuser.
Jennifer never saw her Mum and Dad fighting but remembers that she used
to think that her Mum was very clumsy as she was always falling down the
stairs and getting black eyes.
Eventually Jennifer's Mum got up the courage to flee the family home and
took Jennifer with her. They lived in a women's refuge for around a
year. During this time Jennifer got to learn about what her father had
done and that her mother was not as clumsy as she had thought.
I would like to say things then got better for Jennifer and her Mum.
But the violence had taken its toll and Jennifer's Mum had become an
alcoholic. She had started to get her drinking under control in the
refuge but you can only stay in a refuge for so long.
Having moved out of the refuge the pressure of paying the bills and
getting Jennifer to school got to her Mum and Jennifer was taken into
care. Her foster parents were kind people but although to some extent
they replaced her mother Jennifer sought a "surrogate father" and had her
first sexual encounter in a local park.
The first few boys she had had sex with were abusive like her father and
she became a feminist. She did not like "macho men" and learnt a trick
with walnuts which scared off these kind of men. She would crack walnuts
in her hands. One walnut at a time.
Well, as you know a walnut looks like a certain part of the male anatomy
and a macho man seeing a lady like Jennifer doing what she did with
walnuts was scared. And Jennifer also practiced karate because she and
her Mum had had bad experiences with men.
Well this was when I met Jennifer.
I should explain that I was a feminist too. In fact I was so much of a
feminist that at times I wanted to be a woman. Why? Well I didn't come
from a broken home because my father never hit my mother.
He hit me.
As a result of my upbringing I had a deep sense of being somehow
inadequate. I was a disappointment to my father because I was not like
him. I did not do well at school and I was not the fighter that my
father wanted to be. In fact I used to get bullied at school. I would
cry a lot.
I started to find comfort in humiliation and in being called gay or a
poof although I knew I was not gay. I didn't like getting hit but being
at an boys school my feminity and feminism was noted by my drama teacher,
an open minded lady called Miss O'Connor.
I grew up to hate my father. On one occasion I even told him I wished he
was dead. He hit me then and my mother sent me to bed with no dinner
because I would not apologise. I vowed that I would never be like my
father and it was then that I discovered my mother's laundry basket.
It started with her white lace trimmed silk panties.
I would put them on when she went out and left me alone in the house. I
found it would make my penis stiff and that I would ejaculate.
The first time I had to dry her panties off with toilet tissue.
I learnt to grab my penis before her panties got wet.
I then put them back in the laundry basket.
It was not long before I had to do this again. This time my Mum almost
caught me as I heard the key in the lock whilst I was lying on my bed
about to come. I grabbed up my trousers and a pair of pants and still
wearing her panties quickly rushed into the bathroom and locked myself
in.
Who knew wearing panties could be so exciting?
So there were several near misses before I needed to try something else -
pantyhose. I had seen films on the tv of women rolling pantyhose up
their legs and I found a pair in the laundry basket. I sat on the side
of my bed in a pair of my Mum's panties and started to put my right foot
into the pantyhose. Having done this my penis was already erect as I
started to think of this as a real step towards femininity. I looked at
the pantyhose on my foot and noted there was not really a heel to line up
but there were seams near the toes which were currently pointing
vertically up my legs rather than horizontally across my foot. I
adjusted my pantyhose. Well, my Mum's pantyhose.
I felt quite a thrill as I rolled the pantyhose up my right leg, as if
now I was starting to become a real woman. The first time I put on
pantyhose I had again to use tissue to dry up Mum's panties as I did not
get to my penis in time.
Th second time I tried on her pantyhose I had to find out what it felt
like to wear her pantyhose under my trousers. Although outwardly apart
from my feet poking out under my pantyhose I looked like I was dressed
as a boy I felt like I was dressed as a girl, suddenly my trousers felt
feminine because I knew I was wearing pantyhose underneath.
I needed more. That was when Miss O'Connor came to my aid and I was cast
as Blanche Dubois in the school production of "A Streetcar named Desire."
"Just the right role for the poof." Said Chris, the school bully, when
Miss O'Connor was announcing the roles.
"Oh I have a volunteer for Stella. You will be a stellar Stella, Chris.
Who knows you might come to enjoy exploring your feminine side?"
Chris, although he was the school bully, knew better than to answer back
and said nothing but I knew from the look he gave me that I was in
trouble.
Sure enough, I got a punch on the nose after class.
I came home to tell Mum.
"What happened?" Mum asked.
I told her about Chris and my roles in the school play and what happened
after class.
"That horrible boy! Just wait. I am going to call his parents."
"No Mum, don't! You will make it worse. I think Chris has punishment
enough having to play Stella. I think we might also wind up becoming
friends."
"Ok, John. So you are going to play a girl in the school play? Well I
guess you will have to dress the part. Let me see, you must be about my
size, let's see if I can find some old clothes for you to wear."
Mum had me come into her bedroom and told me to take off my clothes. I
stopped when I got to my pants.
"Come on, there's nothing I haven't seen before. Off with you masculine
clothing and put these on." Mum said passing me a pair of red panties
with a black lace trim.
I don't know if it was standing in front of my mother in her panties or
the colours of her panties. I was immediately stiff.
"Oh dear Blanche, that's most unladylike," Mum said looking at the bulge
in my panties. "Pull them down."
After a few moments my erection subsided and Mum said "I have an idea.
Look, your panties have a flap where a woman would normally put her
sanitary towel but I think you could tuck your penis into it, if you pull
up your panties quickly enough it should hold you in place."
I was surprised at how this simple thing feminised my groin area and
concealed my masculinity.
"Now, you are in luck John, as I have a matching bra for you to wear."
My mum strapped me into her bra.
"Hmm, with your flat chest you are going to need some help. Let's try
some tissues for now but I will have to take you shopping for some
breastforms."
Mum started stuffing tissues into my bra cups.
"Can't you buy them for me Mum?" I asked pleadingly, dreading the idea of
being seen in public in a lingerie department.
"No, silly. The shop assistant will have to measure you."
Mum finished stuffing tissues into my bra and I looked down at my breasts
and cupped them.
Mum adjusted my bra again.
"There. Let's see, give me a twirl."
I did as I was told.
"Your stomach hangs out a bit too. We will have to get something to
correct that." Mum said, surveying me.
"For now, let's try this" she said passing me a black silk slip with a
lace trim.
I put my head into the garment carefully getting my arms through the
straps almost like putting on an athletics vest. I loved the feel of the
silk as it cascaded down my body.
If I hadn't already felt like a woman in my bra and panties I certainly
did now I was wearing a slip.
Mum then got out a new pack of opaque pantyhose for me.
"With them being opaque we will know they are yours as I always wear tan
pantyhose," Mum confided.
"Now Blanche, go and shave off that fuzz from your face and then come
back to my bedroom."
As I looked at myself in the mirror in my lingerie it felt like a woman
was shaving my face.
It didn't take long as I didn't have much facial hair.
Mum sat me down at her dressing table and taught me how to do my own
makeup. First was foundation, then eyeshadow and finally the lipstick
and mascara. She also plucked and arched my eyebrows, then brushed my
hair In a feminine style before finding some hair extensions so that I
now had my first ponytail. Again she taught me how to blend in my hair
extensions.
Then she painted my fingernails and toenails.
After that she found a bodycon black dress which had a lace hem and
shoulders (at least this was where you noticed the lace from a distance
although close up the lace pattern covered the body of the dress too) and
helped zip me in.
Finally she found me a pair of black strap heels and was just teaching me
how to walk in them when we heard Dad opening the front door.
Mum rushed down to meet him and then told him I had landed a starring
role in the school play.
She then called out, "Jim, I present you Blanche Dubois. Ta-dah."
I tried to walk gracefully down the stairs but stumbled a little.
"Wow," Dad said. "They have finally found a role for my pantywaist son!"
I started to cry.
"You look quite the Queen," he said making no attempt to console me and
going into his bedroom and slamming the door.
Mum went in to see him and I heard them shouting at each other. She
wanted him to try being in my shoes and he made plain what he felt about
that.
Eventually the storm blew over and Dad accepted that I was going to spend
my evenings and weekends in character.
Strangely there was no more bullying at school and people stopped calling
me a poof despite my arched eyebrows. Were Chris's eyebrows arched too?
I dare not ask.
Mum took me shopping the next evening, dressed as Blanche, for
breastforms. However, the first thing I found myself being fitted for,
was a corset.
Mum explained as she squeezed he breathe out of me that the corset would
give me something like natural breasts but they would need to be enhanced
with the breastforms.
So, having finished lacing me into my first corset Mum went to get me
some new hosiery. It was then as I looked at how the corset puffed up my
chest and gave me an hourglass figure I noticed the suspender straps
hanging down my legs and Mum arrived with a pair of fishnet stockings.
She showed me how to put them on and how to adjust my suspenders.
If I could kid myself that Men sometimes wore pantyhose I certainly could
not kid myself that men looked like this or wore fishnet stockings and
suspenders.
Mum bought further clothing for my wardrobe and was thrilled to have a
daughter to go shopping with.
By the time the day of the dress rehearsal arrived I found myself having
to share a ladies dressing room with my co leading lady. I was
apprehensive and quite surprised when he hugged me and asked me to
forgive him for the past.
As we started to get changed he asked me to help him get his bra on and
to zip him into his dress and a bond formed between us as we started to
talk about how our Mums had taken to having daughters. It turned out
Chris's dad was rather like mine and had even been to the same
university. Chris zipped me into my dress and we helped each other with
our makeup.
So Chris became gentler and less of a bully and I became tougher as a
result of the friendship that formed between us and I was proved right in
what I had said to Mum.
Chris's Dad and my Dad had threatened to try to have Miss O'Connor
dismissed for feminising their sons and turning us into homosexuals but
when Miss O'Connor replied that the school play had always had to have
boys in feminine rolls but that the police were becoming interested in
child abuse our Dads didn't take their complaints further. Besides she
had added we both seemed to be interested in girls like most of the other
boys in the school but we may be transgendered or transvestites.
So I learnt that there were other men like me and we were called
transvestites.
I have occasionally thought since then about having the operation but I
never as it were had the balls to have my balls removed. So my lovely
Jennifer was marrying a transvestite feminist. This was the man I had
become by the time Jennifer met me.
We met at a feminist rally.
I did not tell Jennifer about my childhood or my crossdressing and she
did not tell me about her childhood.
Jennifer was pregnant by the time she discovered my penchant for
crossdressing and she was very upset. I remember she asked me if I
wanted to have the operation and I tried to explain to her that I did not
want to but she had already made up her mind to divorce me and that I was
not the man she thought she was marrying if I was a man at all.
I was pleased when we got divorced, that Jennifer said she would put my
name on the birth certificate and let me have contact with our son
provided that I agreed not to crossdress around him.
So I spent the next 15 years dressing as a man for work and for the
occasions when I would have contact with our son Alex as Jennifer was
obsessed with trying to prevent Alex becoming a freak like me but in the
comfort of my own home I dressed as I wanted.
Jennifer appreciated my efforts and one day announced she was going away
for a hen weekend with one of her friends from work and could I therefore
look after Alex.
"Sure," I replied. "Why not?"
"You're the best," Jennifer replied.
Then there was a knock at the door.
I opened it not thinking about what I was wearing or who could be there
and there was an awkward silence as I stood there in my normal French
maid's outfit, with a white cap ad wearing fishnets and a pair of heels
not dissimilar to the first pair my mother gave me.
We all looked at each other in shock.
"Well, it's time Alex learnt about the real reason we divorced. Must
go," Jennifer blurted out handing me Alex's bag and rushing off.
Alex stood there for a moment.
"I never realised my dad was a pantywaist!" Alex said angrily grabbing
his bag and rushing to his room and slamming the door behind him.
I had not heard that word since my father had called me it. It took me a
moment to realise it was my son, not my dad talking to me and I started
to reply
"I will not be spoken to in that way young-"
"Lady?" interrupted my son sneeringly "And I suppose you expect me to
wear a dress too? Well it's never going to happen you poof! I am more
of a man than you have ever been."
"Just because I wear a dress sometimes doesn't mean I am not a man," I
said. I proceeded to tell him of all the famous Hollywood actors who
crossdressed.
He didn't reply but he didn't open the door either.
Wow my son was homophobic and transphobic just like his grandfather!
What was I going to do about it? Well, normally I would not be wearing
this stupid French Maid's dress, would I? Or my stupid white lace apron
or the cap? Now this was going to be the last time I ever saw my son.
All because of my love of crossdressing.
Another part of me said, "Chin up Blanche, dear. Stop crying. You don't
want your son to see you crying do you? Get a grip of yourself woman!
Just because your son has turned out like your nasty father doesn't mean
you have to hate or blame yourself for it. You are who you are, like the
Jessie J song."
"Well, can I at least make you dinner?" I sobbed trying to put on a
brave face.
"As long as I don't have to eat it in the same room as you."
Wow this was close to the Chinese concept of ultimate hatred "not under
the same sky!"
I cried again, quietly.
We barely spoke to each other for the remainder of the weekend.
What I didn't understand at the time was that my son was processing who
he was right now. Whilst he had met his grandfather and known, like I
did, that he was not like him, he had also seen me pretending to be a
"normal man" in the past. He had thought I was like my father and that he
himself was different. Now seeing me dressed as a French Maid he had
been forced to recognise that I was not like my father. Being brought up
by my ex-wife, though, meant he had been encouraged to think of men and
women in very binary terms.
This was what I had heard - the upbringing Jennifer had given him but it
was not exactly who Alex was and although I did not realise it then Alex
did. Alex was telling himself my Dad cries and my Dad is not afraid to
show his emotions. I show my emotions too thought Alex but Dad is
dressed as a French Maid! Is that who I am?
Alex left the next day within saying a word to me.
That's it I had thought, I will never see my son again.
I was surprised therefore when I got a knock on my door the following
weekend and saw Alex there again, with Jennifer. I stood there in shock
with my mouth open.
Again I was dressed as a French Maid but not only had I thought I would
never see my son again but I could not believe my eyes.
Alex had his face made up. He was wearing foundation, lipstick,
eyeshadow and mascara. He had a white lace headpiece and he had a
ponytail.
I looked down at the white lace apron he was wearing over the black one
piece dress. You could see he had a bra on underneath from the mounds on
his chest and underneath he was wearing fishnet stockings and a shiny new
pair of stilettos.
Jennifer was also dressed as a French Maid.
So that was all three of us!
Again Jennifer was first to break the silence
"Well are you going to ask us in? Like Mother like daughter," she said
pointing at our son. "I thought as you are both dressed as French Maids
I might as well join you!"
I had my wife and son back and all because I had let my son see who I
really was.
Sherry
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