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Liberty's Bra Part 2 free porn video
Liberty's Bra Part Two:
My first night wearing lipstick I remember that I had this strange dream.
I should perhaps explain that although I did not want to be like my
father I have always been a regular guy like my father. I would eat more
meat than vegetables but I would never touch salad. I would drink red
wine, water or beer and I would go to the pub with the guys. I would
watch sports down the pub or on tv and workout in the gym. On Sundays I
would go to church. I would help clear the table but would generally
leave the housework to Liberty.
Liberty was a vegetarian. She also loved salads. She rarely drank but
when she did drink red wine it seemed to get to her head very quickly and
lead to her acting crazy and I concluded she was drinking red wine last
night when she put her lipstick on my lips. I prided myself on being
able to drink more than Liberty generally. These days she would usually
drink coffee, water or pink champagne, which really is something of a
woman's drink. Liberty wouldn't go out much and never went to the gym.
She did yoga. I told her it was part of Eastern religious practice and
it was not helping with her fitness like working out in the gym would.
In my dream I dreamt that I was doing yoga. What's weird about that you
ask? Not only was I doing yoga, but I was wearing a yoga bra and pants.
I doing Urdhva Mukha Svanasana only I didn't know then that it was called
that at the time.
I heard my father's voice whispering those words, "There comes a time in
a man's life, Anthony, when he has got to wear a bra!"
How weird! When I woke the following morning from this strange dream I
found the lipstick that Liberty had painted on my lips the previous day
on my nightstand and lipstick marks on my pillow.
I could hear Liberty in the bathroom.
I went in to give her her lipstick back but she turned to me showing me
her open palms over her shoulders.
"That's not my lipstick, Babe, when have I ever worn candy pink
lipstick?" Liberty said.
As I think back now, it was like dancing a tango. As a guy, I would
naturally expect to lead the tango, but this was an empujadita move,
sweeping my leg away, putting me temporarily off balance. This was
Liberty nudging or rather pushing me towards femininity.
Perhaps she had not been as drunk as I thought the previous evening.
Liberty noted in that exchange that having sidestepped my attempt to
return the lipstick to her, I had not objected to the notion that it was
my lipstick but gone back to the bedroom to put it back on my nightstand.
Liberty came into the room to offer me a coffee to wake me up and
although I had never drunk coffee before I found the flavour better than
when I had first tried it.
Liberty decided it was time to lead me on.
"You should touch up your lips, Babe," she said. "You have smudged them
on your pillow."
Have you ever gone down a path and wanted to turn back but for some
reason followed the path further and ended up getting more lost? Or got
up in the morning and just finding nothing would go as you planned it?
When you get up in the morning it's important to connect with who you are
and Liberty already had my off balance so I had to accept the arms she
offered. Not everyone who comes to help you when you fall is looking to
help you get up, or at least, not in the way you think.
In this case this meant I found myself going into the bathroom and
putting on my lipstick. Just what you don't want to do if you are trying
to cling on to your masculinity. Don't start your day by putting on
lipstick.
Something didn't look right.
I told myself I am a bloke wearing my candy pink lipstick.
Disoriented, I was thinking of it as my lipstick, my brain did not make
the "blokes don't wear lipstick connection" but instead saw the stubble
on my face and told itself it needed a shave.
That looked better, but still not right.
Yes, even worse if you are trying to cling on to the idea that you are
still a bloke, don't shave to make your face better suit the lipstick you
are wearing.
I went down to breakfast.
Liberty said, "I see you are wearing your lipstick but you haven't put it
on right. Do you remember as a child how you would draw an outline
before colouring it in? It's the same with your lips, Babe. Let me show
you how it's done."
Liberty produced a pencil and then cleaned the lipstick off my lips
before describing what she was doing. "See how I am outlining your lips
and filling in the imperfections around your Cupid's bow? Now I am going
to colour your lips with the pencil. Now go to the bathroom and apply
your lipstick again, Babe, but don't stray outside the lines."
I went to the bathroom and painted my lips, step dos of our tango and of
the feminisation of my face.
My lips looked right now.
They looked like a woman's lips.
But I just thought of them as looking right.
And I now had my lipstick and pencil on my nightstand.
Liberty called out that she was off to yoga and could I clean up from
breakfast as I was going to be at home all day.
I reluctantly concluded I didn't have a proper excuse not to and, for
about the first time in our relationship, I did the washing up.
Later that day my friend David called me to ask if I was coming down to
the pub with him to watch my team playing in the cup semi final.
I knew that Liberty probably would not let me out of the house without my
lipstick on and that that I could not come to the pub wearing my lipstick
either.
It was the first time I had missed a cup game.
Over the course of this week in lipstick I got used to drawing around my
lips and concealing the imperfections with my pencil after my morning
shave before applying my lipstick. I got used to being a househusband.
I would touch up my lips during the day as I noticed how my lipstick left
a mark on my coffee cup when I was washing up.
The following Friday night when she got home from yoga Liberty said,
"Your lips are cute, Babe, but you ought to take better care of the rest
of your face. You should use moisturiser, foundation and concealer."
"It's one thing you getting me to wear my lipstick," I said. "But I
don't know of any self-respecting guy who uses moisturiser, foundation
or concealer who is not a drag queen!"
"They've been doing men's moisturiser for years, Babe, and every "bloke"
who appears on tv wears makeup," said Liberty, completing step tres on
showing me this information on the internet. Self-respecting guys wore
makeup.
Of course, when Liberty gave me my first moisturisers, I was told to put
on the day cream when I woke and the night cream when I went to bed. I
didn't know there was a difference between men's or women's moisturiser
or that men's moisturiser wasn't usually scented.
After waking up the following morning to find lipstick and foundation on
my pillow I persuaded Liberty to agree to show me how to use makeup
remover before going to bed that evening and she agreed on condition that
I agree to let her put mascara on my lashes now.
I said foolishly that, "I will agree if you show me an example of a guy
who wears mascara."
"How about Johnny Depp whose aftershave you use?"
Great I had won my own makeup bag as I was running out of space on my
nightstand.
Having finished my morning shave and makeup routine I found that I had
run out of deodorant. Liberty told me to use her antiperspirant instead
as she wasn't going to the shops just to buy me deodorant.
Then weirdly, just before the game Liberty proposed a bet. If when we
watched the news after the game my team had won she would let me watch
the game and dress as a French Maid for the week. If my team lost, I
would let her make my face up like a girl's which I understood meant
putting on false eyelashes and eyeshadow on my face and a wig in my head.
It was an enganche move in our tango. If my beloved team lost she would
almost have me in volcada, with my legs spread.
We lost, not 1-0 but 5-0.
So I now had false lashes glued on to my eyelids before Liberty applied a
light brown eyeshadow to my eyelids, then eyeliner and more mascara and
decided to tidy up my eyebrows.
I didn't object at the time because she didn't say she was going to
create quite so feminine a look with my thinned eyebrows and because it
was like when you go to the barbers and he cuts off more hair than you
meant him to, it was too late to complain.
Only my hair looked masculine now and she had just put a wig cap over it.
It looked like I was wearing women's stockings on my head.
It didn't look like a bank robber because it didn't cover my face.
Stockings on my brain,
She fitted the wig.
I looked like a girl.
"I was going to wear a French Maids outfit for the week so I think it's
only fair you wear your makeup and wig," Liberty said.
What next, panties? I thought.
I heard my father's voice then repeating those words. "There comes a
time in a man's life, Anthony, when he has got to wear a bra!"
The following day I woke to find my boxer short drawer was empty save for
a pair of unmistakably feminine black lace panties...
I clung to the notion that this was Liberty's way of telling me to do
the washing as I picked up the panties and my makeup bag and wig and went
to the bathroom.
I put on my makeup and wig.
And finally I put on the panties.
And just at that moment Liberty appeared wearing a French Maids outfit
which consisted of a black silky knee length dress and a white pinafore
and cap. She was wearing fishnet stockings and suspenders. And high
heels.
I heard Liberty's voice then repeating those words I heard my father
said, "There comes a time in a man's life, Anthony, when he has got to
wear a bra!"
As Liberty stood there dangling the bra in front of me I looked at the
bed and saw there was a box with breastforms in it and something that
looked like adhesive next to it.
"Go on then, put your bra around my chest I said."
"My bra? No, it's you bra, babe, your panties, your makeup and your wig.
Have you never looked at Eug?ne Delacroix's "La Libert? guidant le
peuple" or indeed the tamer more puritanical "La Libert? ?clairant le
monde" by Fr?d?ric Auguste Bartholdi? Or indeed me? Liberty doesn't
wear a bra," she said, fastening the bra around my chest. "Now, I want
you to get the feel of what it means and feels like to wear a bra as a
flat-chested man."
Liberty stood behind me clasping the bra cups over my man boobs.
"Does it feel right, Babe, or do you want me to fill your bra for you?
If I fill your bra cups I am using adhesive. Now I won't be sticking
your bra to your chests, you might be able to take your bra off, but I
will be sticking the breasts to your chest and you won't therefore be
removing your breasts for some time, they will be semi-permanent. It's
your decision."
But was it really my decision?
Had it been my decision to put on lipstick, makeup or a wig?
Had it been my decision to put on panties or this bra that was now
attached to my flat chest?
Liberty was the lead dancer in this tango and my legs were spread wide
open as I was bent backwards in her arms in my bra and panties with my
flat-chest pointed upwards towards the sky.
A tango dancer looks proud, a flat-chested tango dancer does not look
proud, of course Liberty would be using adhesive.
As Liberty glued the breastforms to my chest she told me to hold my right
breast to my chest with my left hand and my left breast to my chest with
my right hand like I was afraid someone was going to take them off me.
I stood there for longer than I needed to looking like a girl who had
been caught in a state of undress by her boyfriend because Liberty was
taking pictures and that was the pure look of embarrassment she caught on
her semi naked boyfriend's face.
Liberty told me I could remove my hands and the breasts were now firmly
glued to my chest.
I let her strap me into my bra for the second time.
There was going to be no going back now for the girl in the mirror in bra
and panties.
I don't know why, but as I stood there looking at myself in the mirror a
song came to me, someone else had written it, but I wasn't sure who...
"I'm starting with the girl in the mirror,
I am asking her to change her ways,
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and change your face
Make that change.
I have been the victim of a selfish kind of love
It's time that I feminised.."
Put a girl in a bra and panties in front of a mirror and she's dreaming
of being a pop star!
"Liberty, can I borrow your nail polish?" I asked.
I was expecting Liberty to tell me to put on a French Maid's dress, but
instead I was handed a sports bra and yoga pants.
"Unzip me, babe, we only have 30 minutes to get ready for yoga."
This was the time I usually went to church I thought as I looked at two
girls in their yoga kits in the mirror.
Before we got to the studio Liberty said she would call me "Cleopatra" as
it was easy to remember and link to my former male name.
When we got there she introduced me to Nas, the new studio owner and to a
new girl who was working on the reception called Bea. Bea was wearing a
burqa. There was another girl working on the reception called Rita, who
was also wearing Islamic clothing but was wearing a hijab.
Jessenia was going to be teaching the lesson and she was going to be
assisted by Sumera.
While Bea helped me fill out the membership form in my new name
Cleopatra, Nas and Rita chatted with Liberty.
A group of Muslim women arrived in Burqas, and some wearing just hijabs.
However although I felt somewhat naked standing in reception in just my
yoga pants and sports bra I was at least with Liberty, who was for once
wearing a bra and was wearing yoga pants like me.
"It's a sports bra, Cleopatra, so it doesn't count," she told me.
I felt less naked by the end of class as it was an all women's class and
so the Muslim women in class were wearing yoga pants and bras like
Liberty and me.
I was exhausted by the end of the class, which Liberty seemed to find
easy.
When we got home Liberty handed me a French Maids' dress.
I had a shower and put on the dress and went back into the bedroom where
Liberty zipped me into my first dress before helping me put on my first
pair of fishnet stockings and suspenders and showed me how to walk in
high heels.
She was also dressed as a French Maid.
Liberty then told me that Bea had recently had a sex change and now lived
with her girlfriend Rita. They had become Muslims about a month ago.
Liberty was considering becoming a Muslim too and suggested that I give
it some thought as she gave me a glass of pink champagne.
Since then Liberty has told me that she was impressed at how I had given
up drinking and going down to the pub with the lads and embraced yoga and
her vegetarian cooking as she had dropped meat and had been using a meat
substitute in my meals.
I have of course taken it further as I became a vegan and I converted to
Islam before Liberty reluctantly decided to join me. She only wears a
hijab but I am more modest and wear a burqa except when we are at home...
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