COVID Transition
- 2 years ago
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COVID Transition 2 free porn video
COVID Transition - 2
I am filled with a flood of emotions and thoughts as I end the call with
my wife, Ann. She is right, our conversation about love making had left
me with wet panties. (That darn Cowpers gland.) I started closing my
teaching apps on my computer, checking to make sure my camera was off,
and the cap is over the lens. I do not need to broadcast to my class,
much less the rest of the world, that I was wearing an above knee length
white pencil skirt, (Ann calls it my lawyer skirt, coming to about four
inches above my knee, with a sexy 4-inch slit on the side which make my
legs look like they go on forever.) silky sheer Silk Reflections "Little
Color" pantyhose and d'Orsay black three-inch pumps as I back away from
what use to be referred to as my "man cave" desk.
My desk today looks like a female executive's desk at woman's magazine.
Just out of webcams view to the left is a cut crystal vase with white
calla lilies and a blooming sprig of white gardenias I collected from the
garden this morning. To my right is a picture of my wife and I in a
loving embrace. The kicker is are both in dresses and heels, standing on
one arched foot while the other is pumped at a 90-degree angle. This was
our first formal photo shoot we scheduled as two women and that kiss, I
will always remember. The embrace and kiss were natural, not staged for
the photograph. My leg came up without me even being aware. It was not
until we received the proofs did, we realize that we had performed leg
pumps in unisons. What makes it even sexier is that we are both wearing
d'Orsay pumps that display the curved nyloned arches of our feet. I feel
the curve of an arched foot to be an underrated element erotic arousal.
I am so fortunate that Ann loves wearing hosiery and heels as much as I
do. We are both in professions where wearing dresses/skirts with hosiery
and heels is still considered a professional look. I will admit that
being able to wear skirt suits, hose and heels at work is an added
motivation to keep my transition moving forward. I just love the look and
I envy the women I work with that pull off the look so well. I hate that
many of my colleagues have forsaken wearing hosiery. Most do not have the
legs to pull off the bared leg look. Hosiery is a godsent for those of us
that do not have that smooth bare leg look. I will confess that playing
footsie while we share a glass of wine or eat dinner in our dining room
is great foreplay for us. We start with slipping each other's heels off
with stockinged foot under the table and then start rubbing our nyloned
feet against each other, following the arch of the foot, then slowly
advancing our silkie strokes up the leg until we each have our silken
toes at the base of each other torso's. We then arch our foot and use our
toes to massage each other's erogenous zones. Ann loves to slide her foot
up under my fanny and then wiggle here big toe in my sweet spot. If I
have not lost all muscle control of my body, I try to reciprocate by
massaging her clitoris and rubbing my big toe into her nylon covered
vagina. I cannot tell you how many diners have been left partially eaten
on our dining table as we retire to our bedroom for a tasting of each
other's desserts.
Coming back to reality, webcam off, I stand back from my desk and let
down my ponytail. Ann insisted I wear my ponytail high rather than low.
Very feminine, not at all like a guy would wear it. But that was the
point. Ann was moving me more and more close to appearing as a woman. I
have not had my hair cut, except to trim up split ends, since we married
three and a half years ago. My pony tail is quite long. My camera check
showed it was not noticeable, so I kept it up for my class. It seems that
each day I am willing to take more risks. The ponytail, my light
foundation, as well as the sheer nude fingernail polish, I am wearing are
all pleasant reminders to me of the woman I am becoming. I do find that
when dressed like this while I am teaching can be distracting. I
unconsciously slip into feminine mannerisms and vocal tones. I know at
some point that if I continue to pursue my womanly path, my male fa?ade
is going to give way, betraying my true female self to the world, like a
flimsy house of cards falling.
If my house does fall, how will I be perceived? Will I be looked upon by
students and colleagues as a promising researcher and engaging professor?
Will I be vilified, as queer or even worse, mentally disordered? Will I
become that person that others feel should not be teaching our young
minds in fear I will be trying to recruit them to a perverted lifestyle?
If only they can see how more complete and more whole, I am in being the
woman that has always been inside me. Ann's understanding, support and
encouragement to be me is the best therapy I have ever experienced.
As I let my hair down, it cascades down around my neck and over my
shoulders and brings me back to tranquility. A rush of womanly feelings
flows to the surface, so much so I can feel a flush come to my checks. I
find myself being totally overwhelmed by my feminine feelings and
desires. It is almost like I am having a hot flash.
As I stride in my heels across the wood floor, my senses register the
clicking of my heels and the ensuing tension in my calf muscles produced
by the arch in my foot. I can feel the nylon lining of my skirt swish
against my hose covered thighs. What a soothing and sensual sensation. I
so wish I had my breast form on so I could feel the motion of my breasts
as I walked. I smell my perfume, a gentle lavender scent.
I am headed to the kitchen for a fresh cup of mountain roasted coffee.
With a filled cup steaming, I stride to the kitchen door and step out
onto the deck which connects with the deck outside the double French
doors that open into our bedroom. I love this moment, standing outside,
with a slight breeze swirling around my freshly shaven, nylon covered
legs and gently flowing up under my skirt. The slit in my skirt causes
the material to fold over and I angle my leg out to take advantage of the
extra exposed flesh of my long, smooth leg. I love the sheen of silky
hose, as they soften the line of my leg. As I assimulate the look into my
brain, my amygdala slips into gear producing arousal and exhilaration
that is followed by a pleasant release of endorphin that yields a
soothing tranquility.
As I soak in the feelings, I smile gently, wondering what my neighbors
might be thinking, if they spy me from their breakfast rooms. A couple of
years ago such a musing would have sent me scurrying into the house, but
not now. Shortly after we moved in three years ago, Ann began to
encourage me to freely dress around the house and even the yard. For
almost two-years now, Ann and I have tea or coffee in the morning on our
deck dressed in silky bathrobes and a glass of wine in the evening in
dresses, or skirt and blouse, with heels (well at least for me - hose and
heels go better with everything I do!). I routinely work in the yard in
shorts, top and flats or a pair of wedges. (Ever dug a hole for a new
plant wearing wedges? It is challenging, but fun.)
A couple of weeks ago, a couple from one of the homes behind us poked
their heads over the fence to introduce themselves to Ann and me while we
were replanting a bed of flowers. I was wearing a scooped neck pink tee,
with a tee-shirt bra (B-cup), black chino shorts and a low pair of
strappy black wedges that did nothing to hide my red toenail polish. Our
backs were away from them as we heard them call over the fence. Ann gave
me a quick look that said are you up for this. I nodded affirmatively. We
rose from the bed and walked toward the fence with our ponytails bouncing
like we were the Bobbsey twins. They had big smiles all the way up to
when we were about 10 feet away. Were they not expecting two women, or
had they figured out at about the same time one of us was not what we
appeared to be at fifty feet away? Neither of us was wearing makeup. That
works very well for Ann, but not so well for me. I benefit from
contouring and highlights.
The good news is they hung in there. Jeff and Susan, greeted us
cordially, although somewhat quizzically. We exchanged names and with Ann
introducing me as Tricia. Because of the social distancing we did not
shake hands. Ann and I were standing several feet back from the fence as
Jeff gave me a scan from toe to head. Yep, he was registering my wedges,
long tanned shaved legs, my almost short-shorts, pink top and ponytail. I
detected an almost un-perceptual head nod from Jeff as he put 1 plus 1
together, but not letting his smile faulter.
They indicated they had just moved in a couple of weeks ago and were
completely new to Georgia and the Atlanta area. They noted that they have
been admiring our garden from their deck and wanted to come over to get a
closer look. Susan noted she has seen me working in the garden during the
day. I wonder if that included seeing me cutting fresh flowers in the
morning in skirt and heels.
Ann Invited them to tour our garden and they accepted. Jeff excused
himself to grab a couple of masks while I headed to our patio to pick up
the garden gate key and a couple of masks. Walking back toward the back
fence and gate, Ann met me halfway. She asked me if I was okay with this.
I nodded yes and then asked her if I should use my femme voice. She said,
"Be yourself." Well, here I am dressed as a woman, so when I reached the
gate to let them in, I spoke as Tricia, a few octaves higher than my male
voice. I have been practicing for the past three years, even took a few
voice lessons a couple of months back before the pandemic forced us into
shelter in place.
Susan and Jeff followed us into the garden, being very mindful of keeping
a healthy distance as we presented our garden. They were very
complimentary. Susan suggested that if I had some time during the week
that she would welcome me coming over and giving her some recommendations
on what they could do in their backyard. I accepted her kind offer,
saying that Tuesday around noon would be good. She said, "It's a date."
Ann leaned over and asked me if we should invite them to sit with us on
our patio. We have a rather large patio complete with whirlpool and
fireplace. I said, "by all means, yes." Ann extended the invitation,
noting we can easily space out around the poll and fireplace. Jeff,
receiving an affirmative nod from his wife accepted Ann's invitation.
Before we sat down, I asked them if they would like a bottled water or a
beer. Susan selected the bottled water, noting she was more a wine person
and Jeff picked the beer. I headed off to the kitchen to get the drinks,
removing my garden wedges as I entered the house. I returned shortly with
the drinks, but now wearing four-inch red wedges that were the same color
as my nail polish. Jeff noticed immediately, as I stood before them
handing out drinks as well as disinfectant wipes for Jeff and Susan, so
they could like to wipe down their bottles for caution shake. They sat to
one side of the whirlpool and Ann and I on the other side.
As we talked, I notice Jeff watching be closely. Every time I crossed and
uncrossed my legs, his eyes trailed my movements. One time, sitting with
my knees together, I crossed one ankle behind the other and he did the
same. Strange. Having fun with this I undid my ponytail and let my hair
fall over my shoulders. As I ran my fingers through my hair, his eyes
tracked my mauve colored fingernails. Was he attracted to me or was he
more like me than his looks let on?
Since I am not attracted to men, I had not paid that much attention to
his physical characteristics. He is of medium build with slender arms and
legs, with now I notice, an apparent absence of body hair. He even has a
slender nose like mine, although mine is not natural.
Shortly after Ann married, I was in a car accident that left me with a
broken nose and deviated septum that was causing breathing difficulty.
When we went to see Dr. Strands, an ENT specialist, she said I would need
reconstructive surgery to resolve the problem, noting it probably would
get worse without surgery.
Ann asked what that entailed. Dr. Strands said it would be a full
reconstruction of the nose and that I could pick the shape of my "new"
nose. She pulled out camera and several shoots of my face from different
angles and then uploaded them to computer. In a few minutes we were
looking at my nose on two monitors, one with a frontal shot and the other
from the side. She then aligned my nose on screen in a few keystrokes and
then began to tailor it to my face. She showed us how to manipulate the
image and excused herself to see another patient. Ann quickly moved to
the console and began widening and narrowing my nose, moving the bridge
point, and playing with the dimensions of the tip of my nose. I watched
in fascination as she morphed my noise from masculine to feminine. When
she finally finished, I loved the feminine nose she had crafted. It
changes my face so much.
As I was complimenting Ann on her artistic work, Dr. Strands re-entered
the room. Overhearing my compliment to Ann, she affirmed Ann's artistic
skills. Standing back from the screen, examining the frontal and profile
views, she said, "I can do that." She went on to say, "It can all be done
internally, so no scarring will be evident. I would suggest letting me
decrease the distance between you lip and bottom of your nose." She
manipulated the controls some more, reducing the distance and flattening
the upturn of my lip. I watched in amazement as she created a face, one
that I dreamt of having all my life. Dr. Strands said, now this will
complete the feminine look your wife has sculpted for your face. Frankly,
this nose fits your facial bone structure better than the one you have in
the photograph here taken pre-accident. Pat, if you are good with it, I
will take some final measurements and notes, and we can get you scheduled
ASAP. How does the end of the week sound?"
As I voiced my agreement and consent, I was excited and a bit terrified.
This would be my first significant step toward becoming the woman within
me that I have shared existence with for twenty-eight years. There was no
doubt that my broken face as it was now showed the excitement I felt
within. Ann helped me complete the pre-surgery paperwork in the office
before we left. Just before I submitted, she lowered her head below mine
and looked up at me asking, "You sure?" I nodded, rose from my seat and
handed paperwork and consent to the receptionist. I was on my way to the
new "feminine me."
A week later my mom announced she was coming out for a visit. She had
wanted to come out right after the accident, but I assured her it was
only minor and that I was okay. Hearing that I had required surgery as
the result of the accident put her in full motherly mode. There would be
no denying her a visit.
The morning of her arrival, Ann helped me apply some light foundation to
lessen the remaining bruising that was evident. I still had some
swelling, mostly in the tip of my nose. I was somewhat thankful for this,
as I thought it played down some the new feminine shape.
We met her at baggage claim. She walked briskly up and gave Ann a kiss on
the cheek with her usual greeting, "Hello daughter." Mom then turned to
me, taking in my face very closely, then kissed me on the lips saying,
"Hello daughter!"
I backed away from her kiss asking her if she had developed a stutter.
Mom looked at me and said, "No, you heard me right, daughter." "Oh, come
on Pat or should I say Patricia? Your pretty nose just confirms what your
dad and I have suspected. You desire to be a woman. Nothing wrong with
that in our book. Accepted we wasted years of therapy on your
crossdressing as a youth."
"Ann, you are a phenomenal young woman and you must love our child very
much to understand and support him. We knew that Pat was still dressing
when he went off to college and saw no reason why he would not continue
in grad school. His meeting you did throw us for a bit of a loop. We did
not think a smart, gorgeous girl like you and our crossdressing son would
be a match, much less a marriage. It was not until he brought you home to
meet us that I saw the profound love you had for our child. I caught a
glimpse of the two of heading out for the clubs one evening. You were in
a mini and heels and Pat was dressed like he is now in women's skinny
jeans and cotton top, accept that evening he was wearing kitten pumps,
dangle earrings rather than the gold ball studs he has on today and his
lips were the same shade of red as yours. Funny, but I was never so
relieved as I was in that moment."
"I was just about to ask you if we could talk privately, before that
night, so I could try to assess whether you knew about Pat and his
dressing. You see, Pat had told his dad the night before he was going to
ask you to marry him. Dad so wanted to ask him if you knew, but he could
not bring himself to do so. While Pat and I have had many a discussion
about his dressing, particularly because it was my clothes he was
wearing, he and his dad have played along as two buds, dodging the
conversation by male bonding activities such as watching football and
drinking a few beers. I remember clearly one evening sitting down with
them to watch a game, noticing that Pat's hosiery was clearly visible
beneath the cuff of his pant leg. Dad mentioned it to me later that
night, acting like he saw him wearing socks with dogs on them. No big
deal. That is when I realized his capacity, as well as mine, for
unconditional love. It appears, my dear daughter, that you have that same
love."
"Hey mom," I said, "can we move this little family chat somewhere a bit
more private?" Mom apologized for being so chatty, saying she was just so
happy and overwhelmed with love, that she forgot about us standing in the
middle of an airport. I grabbed her bags and we headed off for the
parking lot and our drive home.
On the way home, she inquired about how I was healing and whether I had
to miss classes as the result of the surgery. I told here that it worked
out well, as we had started winter break right after the accident and
that I was able to get the surgery done just before break ended. I took a
week off, letting my teaching assistants handle the lectures. I returned
to school to with tape on my nose and sat in on my TA lectures,
participating only when a question came up they could not answer. As I
healed before their eyes, it is as if they adjusted their memory of my
face with the healing nose they saw. In fact, I have only had a few to
ask about my facial change and they are folks I had not seen in a while
who only had the before and after images and not the transition from
swollen to healed nose. I just tell them about the accident, the need for
surgery and that the result was not quite what I expected, but that it
has grown on me and now feels right. This pretty much end the
conversation.
Back to Jeff and Susan. Ann and Susan were just talking away like they
had known each other forever. Jeff and I had yet to reach stride. He
shares that business brought them to Atlanta, in fact the pandemic is the
cause of their move. He is apparently is a computer guru and an Atlanta
company hired him away from MS in Seattle to come in a set up Teams for
their corporation to use for tele-conferencing, among other IT platforms.
His wife Susan is a techy as well, but she comes from a teaching
background, teaching security analysis in a master's program. She is
apparently quite good, as she has already obtained a position in graduate
program here in Atlanta. When he mentions the school my jaw drops about a
mile, as it is the same university, I am a researcher/assistant professor
at.
Ann's radar kicks up at this point hearing the name of my college being
mentioned by Jeff. She asks Jeff if he works there. He responds, No, No,
Susan has just accepted a position there for the coming fall. I work for
bio-medical firm here in Atlanta." Can you say small world? Yep, you
guessed it, the same one my wife works for. I want to cry as I am sitting
here in red wedges and pink top with my bra clearly showing beneath. I
quickly remind myself that they are both big institutions with thousands
of employees. Very good chance our paths will never cross. I try to keep
telling myself that.
I am approaching the point of being ready to come out to the world. Mom
and Dad are onboard, no fear of rejection there. Ann's mom had picked up
on my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans one day and had confronted us both. Seeing
our love for each other, she resolved to support us and pleaded my case
to Ann's dad before I asked for her hand. The day I asked him was the
only day I was dressed in full guy mode. Not even wearing panties. Heck,
I had to buy a pair of boxers to wear. He warily consented to giving me
her hand, noting he understood we planned to have kids and that I would
not transition before everything was in place to allow that to happen. It
was not the support I had fantasized about. One of our favorite movies is
Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly as Elizabeth and Donald
Sutherland as her father. I had hoped that my future father-in-law would
gush with happiness like Lizzy's's dad. Hey, take a win when you can get
it, even if it is not pretty. He did like the notion of me earning my
doctorate and noted that professionally, my transition, if it did occur,
would probably not hurt me because of all the liberals in academe. He did
throw in that he wanted to see only one wedding gown at the alter on our
wedding day. I readily affirmed I would be in tux. Interestingly, we have
never discussed my transition since.
I have had lunch with Ann and her mom as Tricia at the Swan House,
possibly the place for ladies of society to gather for lunch and tea in
Atlanta. I love getting together with her mom, because we can move
straight into ladies talk in a matter of minutes. She has given me some
excellent fashion advice. She is a master of makeup. She hides 15 years
of aging behind a masterfully painted face. Ann and her look more like
sisters, than mom and daughter. Her contouring and highlight tips have
helped me present a smooth, model like face, making the most of my high
cheek bones and rounding out my face..
As for my dad-in-law, he can manage me being over to the house wearing
flats with skinny jeans and top/blouse. One day, mom pulled me back to
her bedroom with Ann and they transformed me into an evening look,
complete with little black dress, Hanes Silk Reflection Barely Black
pantyhose and high, high strappy black satin heels. They both dressed
similarly. Then they coerced me out to watch a football game with my dad-
in-law. (Ann promised me when we got home, she would make it worth my
while. No need to say anymore. What she did to me with one of those heels
that evening is an X-rated story.) When we entered the family room, dad's
jaw dropped. I am not sure if it was him seeing me or his wife that was
the cause, but the effect was priceless. We three ladies poured ourselves
glasses of wine and sat down on the couch to watch the game crossing our
legs and dangling our heels. I am sure it was the least watched game dad
has sat through and I bet mom had her hands full when we left. I am
almost sure he got up between the third and fourth quarter to take his ED
meds from the tent he was sporting toward the end of the game.
Back to our the patio conversation. Learning that we share work
environments with our new friends and the potential for the cat to escape
the bag before we desire, Ann and I change the conversation. We are back
to the pandemic, how it limits interaction, and social isolation. They
are where we are at. Feeling cut off from family and friends, noting that
this is just the beginning of what may be several months of isolation. We
note how nice this interaction is and vow to do it again, soon. At this
point, Jeff invites us to come over to their home. They have a patio area
like ours apparently. Susan follows that she will be glad to prepare a
meal that we can cook out together on their outdoor kitchen noting there
is room for us to work as couples independently. We set a date to meet
the following weekend. They suggest we eat later in the evening so we can
enjoy their fire pit after dinner. I love the warmth of a nice fire on my
long legs, so I am quick to reply, yes. If we are eating in the evening,
I can dress up with a skirt, hose and heels. Might as well give Jeff even
more to stare at.
As we get up to say our goodbyes, I feel Jeff's eyes soaking in my legs
and wedge heels, as well as he seems to be staring at my bra line. Is he
gay? Is he one of those tranny stalkers? Then is hits me, is he a
wannabe? They are as nice as can be as a couple, so I move my thoughts
beyond, focusing on the dinner gathering we have planned.
Having now finished half of a cup of coffee reminiscing on the deck while
the wind twirls around my hosiery covered legs, I begin to stroll to the
side deck that enters our bedroom. Pausing at the door, I see Susan
working in her back yard. She looks up, waves and says, "Good Morning
Patricia". Her formality is sweet. I wave back a princess and greet her
with a good morning and let her know I am looking forward to helping her
with her garden planning. Well now I know she has seen me in hose and
heels. Their lack of curiosity about me is stimulating. Have they
encountered other women like me? Maybe one of their family members is
trans or gender fluid. Their being nice/polite the other day was one
thing, but then to invite us over to their place. If our roles were
reversed as couples, I think Ann and I would have to huddle before
offering to have them over to our place. It was like they had this all
planned out. Hmm, he is Jeff, not Norman Bates? Right!
Grace
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