Paris in Prison
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Paris Part 4 free porn video
Paris: Part Four:
I was about to go out onto the streets of Paris looking like Myl?ne
Farmer. Suddenly a ridiculous fear hit me, what if someone recognised me?
Seriously? In a city of over 2 million people in which I almost knew 2
people personally I was worried someone might recognise me? What if
someone works out you are a man? I didn't even think of myself as a man
anymore! How could I? The wig made my hair look like a woman's hair and
my make up and clothes hid any other vestige of masculinity about me.
Yes, I knew that underneath all this I didn't really have breasts and I
have a penis but dressed as I was I had ceased to be aware of who I was
underneath my makeup. Does that sound so hard to believe? Have you never
gone out dressed as a woman? Have you never pretended to be someone you
are not and got so caught up in it you have forgot who you are for a
moment?
So, Paris, you have made me a woman, now behold my face!
Jane's flat must have been in some road like Rue Blanche because in no
time I realised we were outside the famous red windmill, the Moulin Rouge,
but we walked past there to the Irish pub on the corner and then up to the
entrance of the Cimeti?re de Montmartre.
My initial thought was, "Jane's a bit odd, she must be a bit of a goth
taking me to visit a graveyard on my first trip to Paris," but as I looked
round I realised that in Paris they do death rather differently than the
dull graveyards I had seen in England. Each grave had something unique
about it.
"Hurry up, they close shortly!" said Jane as she led me up the steps to
the right. "We have to see Dalida before we hit this city."
When I looked at her blankly Jane said, "She watches over people like you
and me. She used to live nearby."
Then we came to this extraordinary yellow statue of a woman in a
sleeveless dress with a scarf round her neck and with a large black marble
stone behind her and what looked like a sort of Cartoon picture of a
golden sun and its rays behind her head.
"When I die I want my grave to look like this!" I blurted out.
"Seriously? But you're a man," Jane whispered back sternly.
"Not any more!" I giggled but I had been brought back with a jolt to the
reality of the situation I found myself in. I was in a foreign town where
no one knew me and I was dressed like a woman. I nervously adjusted my
bra, worried that someone might realise who I was underneath these
clothes. I was conscious then of the unmistakably feminine sound of the
clacking of my five inch heels as we rushed back to the gate to avoid
getting locked in the cemetery for the night.
Then I got into trouble as up until then I had been walking on the
pavement but as I approached the gate I thought that I could walk on
cobbles in my heels. I immediately got stuck but fortunately Jane saw me
and got the security guard, who was a handsome well built young man, to
help extricate my shoe and I had my Cinderella moment as he knelt to help
me get my foot in my shoe before sweeping my feet away as he scooped me
up in his arms and carried me to the gate before gently setting me down.
I had never known what it felt to be picked up in a man's arms like that
since my Dad used to pick me up when I was a little boy. Next to this
hunk I felt like a little girl. He was huge and the ease with which he
picked me up amazed me. I thanked him and kissed him on the cheek
noticing how my lipstick left a mark on his face. I giggled and pointed
at his face. He insisted on taking a selfie with his arms round Jane and
I as we each kissed him.
Having just come out of a graveyard I thought for a moment about the
church I used to go to with the cub scouts which had a massive graveyard.
I couldn't imagine making love in an English graveyard but I knew just the
man I would like to make love to in a French graveyard now.
I had come to Paris looking for something but right now I had found
something else, I am a woman trapped in a man's body but I could set
myself free by dressing like how I was meant too. I looked at my
reflection in a shop front. I was always quite a thin man and this meant
that now, dressed as I was, I made quite a convincing woman. I then
realised that I was looking into a sex shop window and the man inside was
beckoning me to come in.
Once inside Jane found a corset and said, "Hey, Simone, you always said
you wanted your own corset, well this looks perfect, why don't you try it
on. Go on I dare you."
I had never turned down a dare before and I didn't intend to start now.
Besides I didn't want the sex shop Worker to realise that I was a man so I
went into the changing room to try it on. As I unzipped my dress I looked
at myself in the mirror and wondered if it was a two way mirror. I
started to feel nervous about putting on the corset. Having worked out
how to attach it I realised I needed to tighten it and called out for Jane
to help me. By the time she had finished tightening my corset I could
barely breathe. She left me in the changing room.
It was a blue corset which seemed to match my panties and suspenders and I
gazed at myself and thought I looked like a model. Right then I realised
Jane had taken my dress so I was going to have to go back into the shop in
just my underwear.
When I got there Jane had gone.
The man wouldn't let me leave without paying for the corset but I didn't
have any money on me. So he said if I stood in the shop window to attract
customers he would let me leave the shop without paying for the corset and
he would even give me a dress to protect my modesty. Gee thanks! After
standing in your shop window in just my underwear I get to cover up later.
Yeah sure I knew I was being exploited but what could I do? I had to pay
off the debt for what I was wearing or go into the streets of Paris in a
bra and panties. He eventually agreed I would have a chair to sit on
whilst I modelled in his shop window.
So began the most humiliating evening of my life but would you think badly
of me if I said I enjoyed sitting on a chair in a shop window in one of
the seediest streets modelling lingerie?
Rowan
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