Cheater free porn video

Cheater By Cassandra Morgan Why do men cheat? Because it's worth it, that's why. It's worth all the manipulation, all of the deceit, all of the lies. It's worth the time. It's worth the money. It's worth the guilt. It's worth the sneaking around. Don't blame me. Guys are just wired that way. It's been part of our DNA since we were cavemen. Only then, we did our work with clubs, not by going to one. It's the thrill of the hunt, the rush of the conquest, the smug feeling of knowing what you have gotten away with It's being smart. It's being sexy. It's living the life of a handsome young man. Why? Because there is nothing like that first thrust of sliding into a fresh pussy, the sweet dominance you feel as it happens. It is heaven. It's like stealing candy. Take Darcy, for instance. It's a bit of a stereotype that a guy has an affair with an office co-worker, but it happens. Darcy was a cute little blonde who liked to squeal in religious themes. She was married, too, to some brute named Anthony, but she let me know soon after we met that she was open for business. And I wan't her first, either. At the Hideaway Inn, they knew Darcy by her first name -- the same way they had known Ellie and Traci and Deborah when it was their turn. And so we would spend hours making love. I would penetrate her, often before she could get her clothes off. It was tender and it was rough, and it touched a part of me that marriage could not. And why not. I was a man who could handle a lot of women. And so we would spend hours making love. I would penetrate her, often before she could get her clothes off. It was raw and savage, and it touched a part of me that marriage could not. Did Tara know about it? Of course not. I was too smart, too slick. I was a man who could handle a lot of women. My name is Charles Moore, and I am a natural-born cheater. I?m a 41- year-old father of two, married to Tara for 19 years. She doesn?t know I fool around on her, but hey, a guy has needs. Right? Darcy and I didn?t always go to a hotel. Sometimes, Darcy took me in my car. Sometimes, in my office. Wherever the mood struck her. The woman liked sex. I liked it, too. And so the days passed, and I had a woman at work, and I had a woman at home, and sometimes, I checked out the women at Clancy?s Pub. I?m not evil. Really, I?m not. I?m just a passionate guy who is good at playing dodge-ball. In almost two decades, I had never been caught. Until today. I guess I outsmarted myself. Tara was in my car, and she was looking for a hairbrush, and she opened the glove compartment. And there it was ? a lacy black bra. Darcy had left it, evidently, n her haste to get home one night. The cups were a D. Anita wore a B. She knew right away it wasn?t hers. What do you call a guy with caught with a bra? Busted? I didn?t want to get caught. Some men do, but I had reasons to avoid it. Tara and I had a pre-nup; in the event of cheating, 80 percent of our advertising business went to her. There were the kids. There was our house, which really belonged to her father. He?d kick my sorry ass into the street. My reputation would be ruined. "What is this, Charlie?" Tara said, holding up the bra. It hung from her fingers, the lace dancing in the afternoon. "Why do you have a bra in your car?" "I don?t know, Tara. It?s probably one of yours." She furrowed her brow and looked at the tag. "No, it?s too full for me. This has C-cups. They would swallow me up." We sat there in silence for a minute. I was having trouble breathing. Damn it, I couldn?t afford a divorce. I loved my kids. How could I have so stupid? How could Darcy be so careless? Was it intentional? Was she trying to get me for herself? Would Anthony kick my ass when he found out? Tara looked and slowly shook her head. "I can explain," I stammered. "I get it," she said, and I braced for the other shoe to drop. "It?s yours, isn?t it?" What? Mine? Why would Tara think I owned a bra? What was she accusing me of? And as it worse than what I was guilty of. "Come on, Charlie. Fess up. You wear this bra, don?t you?" I considered the possibilities. If I told her it was Darcy?s, my ass was in trouble. But I told her it was mine, well, she?d yell and scream, but it might buy me some time. After all, this was a moment of desperation. "You...you weren?t supposed to find out," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. After a minute, I added, "I only did i a few times." "It?s okay, baby. I know that a lot of men cross-dress. You know you could have always talked to me. I?d understand." "I...um, I was ashamed," I said, going with the flow, still trying to figure a way out of my mess. "I can understand that," Tara said. "But you don?t have to hide anymore. It?s okay. I still love you. You can be who you are. There are worse things than cross-dressing." I felt like a heel as she told me she loved me. But in a penny, in for a pound. I let the lie sit there for a minute. "I was afraid you would kick me out," I said, keeping my voice soft. "I wanted to hide it from you." Did she believe me? "Oh, sweetie. It?s 2021. We?re enlightened about transvestites by now. I used to work with on ? Lana. She was so sweet. Tell me, did you have panties to go with this?" She rummaged through the glove compartment, but there was nothing there. Darcy had gone home with a bit of dignity, it seemed. "Tara, I .... I threw most of my women?s clothing away. I don?t know how the bra got in the glove compartment. But I don?t have any clothes left. I promise." Tara smiled. "Don?t worry, baby. We?ll get you some more. I certainly wouldn?t want anyone to take my clothes away from me." "Um, it?s okay, really," I said. "I?m over it. I don?t need to wear anything else." "Oh, you goose. Do you think I haven?t read about your kind? Cross- dressers never get over it. It?s with you always. We?ll adapt, Charlie, you and I. We?ll find a way. Hell, I?ve been the wife for almost 20 years. You can be one now." I was quiet, thinking of alternatives. I stared out the window. I fidgeted. "Maybe we could just do it once in a while," I said. "Or once a day. Charlie, you owe it to yourself to embrace this side of you. I?ll be there for you. Your whole family will be." We rode along silently. She smiled. There was compassion in her eyes. "I wondered sometimes, you know?" Tara said. "I mean, you?re a bit effeminate. You walk like a girl. No offense. I guess you?re just too pretty to be a boy." What? Effeminate? I walk like a girl? Hell, I was a Master of the Universe. I was an alpha. A bull. A rooster. But I didn?t say anything. I figured the more I talked, the deeper my problems would be. "Most transvestites dress their whole lives, Charlie. We you like that? Did you play with dolls as a kid?" "No...no, Tara. I didn?t." "Well, whatever. I just wished you could have grown up as a girl. It?s a lot more sensible way to get through life. Don?t you like girls?" "Girls are ... fun," I said before I could stop myself. "Well, now you can be one. Nothing?s there to stop you anymore." I swallowed hard. This wasn?t the easy escape I had imagined. * * After we arrived home, I wanted to mow the yard. Work on my old motorcycle. Paint the house. Anything, as long as it was manly. Tara had different plans. "I want to see how you look," she said. "I bet you?re pretty." "I ... don?t look good," I said. "It?s one reason I quit." "I?m sure you need some work. Any trans girl who has been dressing alone is going to need help. A guide. Do you know how to do makeup?" "Um....I?ve never done makeup." She nodded. "No access, huh? Well, we?ll fix that. Can you walk in heels?" I looked at her. "I?ve never worn heels," I said. "See the problem with dressing by yourself? I bet you don?t have a wig or anything. No matter. You?re close to my size, maybe a bit bigger. But I?ll bet you can fit into some of my stuff." "That?s ... not necessary." "I know. You want your own clothes. Any girl does. But this is just so we can size you. Here. Put on these panties. Don?t worry about shaving. We?ll do that later tonight." "I don?t want to shave." "You will. Wait until you slide hose over your bare legs. It?s like God is stroking your thighs. Now, put on the panties, and I?ll find you a bra." I exhaled. What could I do? If I wanted to buy time, I suppose I could do nothing. So I stuck one foot, then the other, into the holes in the panties. I slid them up and wiggled them over my bottom. "Nice, right?" Tara said. "Better that those damn boxers of yours. I don?t know why all men don?t wear panties, really. I mean, men think they?re the king shits. So why don?t they get the more comfortable underwear?" The panties felt foreign, but yes, they were soft, smooth. The bra, however, was stiffer, tighter. I didn?t like the way the band stretched over my body. "You need boobies, girlfriend," Tara said, her fingers tracing the lace of the bra. "We?ll get you some of those, too. You won?t believe what a nice rack will do for your figure. Just wait. For now, we?ll stuff it with panties. Okay?" "Tara, you know I like breasts. Your breasts. I don?t need my own." "Who said anything about need, Charlie? We?re talking wants. For a woman, breasts are incredible. Wait until you have your own. We?ll start you on pills, and in a couple of months, we can augment them. I know I doctor who does that." Personally, I felt like an idiot as I stood there in my wife?s underwear with her padding my bra. Shit, guys didn?t dress like this. The clothes were meant to accent parts that, well, I didn?t have. I glanced toward Tara?s closet. "Are you...are you going to make me wear a dress?" I asked. "I?m not going to make you wear a dress, Charlie. I?m going to let you wear a dress. But not until we fix your makeup. Have you ever worn lipstick?" I shook my head no. "You can thank me later," she said. "Now sit here and let?s make you pretty." Tara went to work, studying my face the way an artist studies a canvas. She brushed, and she rubbed, and she applied. The odor was overwhelming. My skin felt ... tight as she adorned it. Women do this? Every day? "Add ear-piercing to the things we want to do tomorrow, Charlie," she said. "We?ve got a busy day. Being a woman is a full day?s work. You?ll see." "Tara....I think this is all too much to ask. Let me go back to...well...to my dressing in secret. I?m more comfortable that way. I don?t need you to see me." "I?m looking forward to it," Tara said. "A flower has to bloom in the sunlight. Now, do you want to try on this green dress or the black one?" "Neither one." "Oh, the blue? I understand. The beadwork will bring out your eyes, and the skirt flairs out nicely. Good choice. Wow. It looks good on you. I love the length. Turn around and let me zip you up." This could not be happening, In an instant, I was standing in my bedroom wearing a dress. It was hanging over me, and I could feel it tighten at my waist. The hem stopped halfway up my thighs. Did women always feel like this? Did some men actually like wearing this stuff? "Why don?t you practice walking in a pair of heels. If you aren?t used to them, it?ll take a minute or two. You can wear them around the house tonight." "Are the kids home?" "Sure they are, Charlie But they?ll understand. It?ll just take some getting used to." "I...I?m not ready to be seen by the kids." "Oh, no need to be shy. They?ll see you at dinner." "But....I?m dressed like a girl." "Aw, sweetie. You?re just dad. They?ll still love you. I could make them call you Aunt Charlie. Or Aunt Charlene. What do you think?" "I think I?m going to be sick." "Those are just nerves, Char...Charlene," Tara said. "Butterflies for your debut. It?s natural. Every thousand-mile journey starts with the first step. Your children, your friends, your neighbors...everyone is going to love you." My. Children? Friends? Neighbors? Everyone? * * * There is a rule in the world. Kids are always late for dinner. They have a video game to finish. They want to read one more text. They want to argue about ... everything. That night, they were on time. Of course they were. The main course is their father in a dress. I was standing by the sink, feeling awkward and out of place my blue dress, when Molly came rushing in. She?s a high school junior, 16, and an opinionated expert of the world of reason, politics, fashion and women super-hero movies. Brady came bounding behind her. He?s 14, a fair athlete, an average student and Chicago Bears fan. They each took two steps into the kitchen before they froze in their tracks and stared at me. "Dad?s ... wearing a dress," Molly said. "He?s wearing high heels." "Dad?s a fruit?" Brady asked. "When did Dad become a fruit?" "Settle down, kids. Let?s all take a seat, and we can talk about this. Okay?" Tara?s voice was calm. "What what?s the shit, Dad," Brady said. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Because that?s who she is," Tara said, accenting the word "she." "Your father is, well, transgender. You two need to make her feel comfortable. She?ll be wearing a dress from now on." "He?s a homo?" Brady asked. "Shut up, twerp," Molly said. "Dad, it?s okay. Should I call you Dad? Are you Mom, just like Mom?" "Dad will be fine," I muttered. "We?ve had trans kids in our school," Molly said. "Four girls and two boys. I know all about being transgender. If you want to be a woman, it?s okay. I?ll take you the beauty parlor." "My God," Brady said. "The other kids will give me hell for this. My father is RuPaul. I think I?m gonna be sick." "Yeah, it?s all about you," Molly said sarcastically. "Your dad is a lady now, and it?s about you." "I?m not a lady," I said. "Well, not yet," Tara said. "We have a lot to talk about before we even discuss a sex change." "A sex change?" Brady said, loudly. "Dad?s going to have his dick cut off?" "And why shouldn?t she?" Molly said. "If Dad is pretty enough, she?ll get all the dicks she wants." "Children! Watch your language," Tara said. "This is just her first day. Charlene has a lot of transitioning to do." "Charlene?" Brady said. "My Dad?s name in Charlene?" "Brady, you aren?t helping," Tara said. "A lot of men want to be girls down deep. Why shouldn?t your father be one of them?" "I?ll help you," Molly said, looking at me. "I?ll take you shopping. I won?t let you be an ugly woman." "Too late," Brady said. "Well, I think your father is a very pretty lady," Tara said. "It?s her first night, but she already moves like a woman." "Crap," Brady said. "I don?t want a fag for a father. I mean, Gene Williams has a gay father, and it?s the most embarrassing thing you?ve ever seen the way he sashays through the school....wait a minute. Dad? Promise you won?t date Gene Williams? father." "Hush," Tara said. "Can everyone just settle down? Brady, could you pass the sausage?" Brady started laughing, then he laughed louder. "We?re having sausage? Is Dad going to go down on his dinner?" "Brady!" Molly said, but she was laughing, too. "What?s for dessert?" Brady said. "A banana?" * * * When I woke up the next morning, the thing that most alarmed me wasn?t tat I was wearing one of Tara?s nightgowns. It wasn?t that I could taste lipstick on my face. It wasn?t even that Tara?s hand was on m ass. It was that I had a raging erection. I rolled over on my back, and I looked down at the tent that my nightgown had become. I heard Tara giggle. "Up periscope!" she said. "Someone liked sleeping in a nightie." "It?s....it?s just morning wood," I said. "Right," Tara said. "I?m serious. I?ve got to pee, so it?s hard." "Oh, Charlene. Just enjoy it. You?re a woman now. You?re turning yourself on." I tried to ignore her glee. I padded to the bathroom, glancing down at my red toenails. Molly did that, I remembered. She and Tara held a girls? night for me. Fingernails, toenails, leg shaving ? all of it. Tara had given me a ring with a red stone to "bring out my nails." "Don?t forget to sit," Tara sang out. I was pretty sure that a couple of neighbors couldn?t hear her. But only a couple. By the time I got out of the shower, Tara had set out a white skirt and a pink top. She had fresh underwear laying beside it. "I?m not going to wear that," I said. "Of course you are, silly. How are we going to buy you you the right clothes if you?re in the wrong ones?" Tara said. "I know you?re shy. But if you?re going to dress this way from now on, well, you might as well start." "I don?t want to dress this way from now on." "What? You want to dress more sexy? You could wear my lavender dress." "Lavender? No thank you." "So you like the pink?" "Not really. Can?t I just wear jeans?" "Oh, hell no. Not the new girl in town. Just wear a skirt and enjoy it. I know you want to look good." "Christ, Tara. We can?t do everything at once!" I was getting desperate. I was tired of the clothes, of the look, or play-acting. I was tired of Tara?s incessant willingness to guide me toward femininity. One little lie, and she was willing to believe the worst about me. That I was, well, one of those. "I know how you must feel, Charlene. You?ve waited your whole life, dressing in secret, and now you?re out. It must feel like everything?s going too fast. But we have to make up for lost time." "Mom? Other mom? Are we ready to go?" Molly sounded impatient. "Other mom?" I asked. "Yeah. I decided that "Dad" isn?t right. But you?re still may parent. So I?m going to call you Mom and you Mom 2.0. Or Other Mom. Girl power, you know? We have to reinforce your role." We have to show you off." "Isn?t that sweet, Charlene? Tara said. "You?ll love being a mommy. They?re having a bake sale at the school this week, and all the women are volunteering. You?Ill love it." My Lord. However was I going to get out of this mess? Around every corner, Tara seemed to have a new feminine plan in place. This was getting worse and worse. The three of us ? Brady wanted no part of our shopping ? drove the Oaks Mall. My heels were low, but they were still different than my normal footwear. I felt exposed in the skirt, as if everyone could see right through me. "Let?s start off at the wig store," Tara said. "Most of the people staring are doing it because of your hair." "Can she be a blonde, Mom?" Molly asked. "What do you think, Other Mom? Do you want to have more fun?" We picked up the wig, a long, thick style. Then we stopped by an ear- piercing kiosk, and three holes later, we moved on to Macy?s. Tara had picked up four dresses, two skirts and a blouse. We bought three pairs of shoes. The entire time, I protested, and I made excuses, trying not to push to hard to get my message across. But it fell on deaf ears. Tara took me to the handbag section. We were looking at the different purses ? despite my protesting that I didn?t need one ? when a salesclerk came up. She was Brenda, she said. She was short, with curly brown hair. Her cleavage was a wonder of the world. Tara was looking at purses. I was looking at Brenda?s breasts. Despite my outfit, I was thinking of a way to get her cell number. "Oh," Brenda said, following my eyes. "Do you like my necklace?" Well, no. I wasn?t looking at her damned necklace. But I couldn?t admit I was looking at her breasts. "I like it," I said. "It?s very nice." "I know where the necklaces are," Molly said, taking my hand and leading me away. "Let?s go get you one. We can pick up some earrings while we?re there." After we bought jewelry, Tara drove the Adults R Us, the fetish store. Tara bought me a top-of-the-line set of breast forms. "You?ll love these," Tara said. "You can glue them on, and they?ll feel like the real thing. They?ll get you ready for when yours grow." "Did you want to get her a butt plug, Mom?" Molly asked, looking at the display case. "Molly? How do you even know what a butt plug is?" "Mom, I?m 16. I?m not a child!" "We?ll talk later, young lady. Now how about you, other young lady? Do you see any toys you want? A dildo? A chastity cage? A penis gag?" "No," I said, blushing. Molly had heard every word. "I mean, no thank you." "Well, maybe we can come back when Molly isn?t with us," Tara said. Molly grinned. "I thought I could help. You know, in case you old ladies have some questions." * * We went home after that. Tara thought we needed to change. She handed me a white dress with blue flowers and a blue pair of heels. "You need to look pretty," she said. "We?re going to see my parents." "The Sarge? I don?t want the Sarge to see me like this. Hell, he didn?t like me before. Now, he?ll kick my ass." "Oh, Daddy isn?t so bad. He just believes in discipline. Trust me." "Tara....it?s a really bad idea." "Pshaw. You?re acting like you don?t want him to see you in a dress." "I don?t! I mean, this is just for me...for us." "Why should it be just for us, Charlene? I could care less if the world approves. All those fucking Rotarians who make fun of you people in the daytime but go to the drag bars at night. Those hypocrites. Now get your purse and let?s go." I opened my mouth to protest again, but I was getting dangerously close to the line. I had to act like I was enjoying this dressing up. I kept reminding myself that I didn?t want Tara to find out I had been unfaithful with Darcy. Or with any of the others, to tell you the truth. Oh, I was thinking about it. There were times I figured that it would be better to let Tara yell at me for a little bit and be done with it. But I knew Tara. She wouldn?t be done with it. She?d divorce me, and I?d have to find a place to live, and she?d take the kids away. Hell, with 80 percent of the company, she might just shit-can me. So I freshened my lipstick, and I adjusted my wig, and I slung my purse over my shoulder. I followed Tara out the door. Christ, what had I become? The drive to Sergeant Tom Martin?s house took 20 minutes. Tara kept glancing at me, telling me to keep my knees together, what to do with my hands, to sit upright. Then she would tell me to relax. How can you relax when you?re gong to see your father-in-law while wearing a dress? We pulled up to the modest house on Belcher. Tara walked in without knocking ? she had grown up here ? and yelled "Mom! Dad!" There was the sound of activity, and muted voices, and I could feel myself shrink in anticipation. I was about to be outed. And then they were here, taking me in, looking me up and down, from my heels to my hair. My dress felt short. My breast forms felt huge. I had trouble making eye contact. "Hi, Mom," Tara said "This is Charlene." "Well, you?re right, Tara," Mrs. Martin said. "She?s adorable. I think she?s much better as a woman." I looked at Sargent Martin, who looked me up and down. His fists were clinched. His eyes were narrowed. A thousand privates had looked at that face in fear. Then he smiled. "I thought I picked up that kind of vibe from you, Charlene," he said, accenting the last syllable. "However did you father two children? He chuckled. "Aw, I?m just kidding. I?m not as old-fashioned as a lot of people think." "Just ignore him," Mrs. Martin said. "Come and let?s have a cup of tea. All of this girl stuff must be wearing you out. Call me Helen" We moved into the kitchen, and Tara and I sat while Mrs. Martin poured. The Colonel had disappeared. Gone to polish his medals, I guessed. We talked about the children. Tara talked about finding the bra. She talked the shopping. She told her mother she was starting me on hormones, which was news to me. Mostly, I sat and dreamed of wearing pants again. And then the door opened, and the Sarge came into the room... ...In a dress. Actually, it was a different uniform for him, a gray maid?s outfit with a white apron. There was a small lace hat on his head, and he was wearing low heels and makeup. It wasn?t quite the same terrifying imagine. "May I get you anything, Madam," he said to Helen. My eyes were wide by now, like the girl in the movies when she sees the monster. My jaw hung open, and strange sounds were coming out of my throat. The Sarge, the guy who invented verbal abuse, was dressed as a woman. "Sarge?" I said. "Actually, when she?s dressed this way, I call her Marjorie. ?Marge the Sarge, she knows who?s in charge.? Really, she?s quite handy around the house. She?d better be, if she doesn?t want the strap." "See," Tara said. "I told you Daddy loved discipline." I looked at the three of them one-by-one. The amazement was still on my face. "Tara never told you that her father was a sissy?" Helen said, giggling. "Why do you think she was so willing to accept your feminine side? She?s grown up in the lifestyle. She was, what 4, when she caught you in a dress, right, Marge." "I think she was 3," the maid said. "Do you like maid-play, Charlene?" Helen was looking at me now. "You and Marge can get even closer now. You could come over on weekends, and the two of you can hang out and mop and iron. Just be girls together." "It?ll be nice," Marge said. "I can introduce you to Mistress Eve. She gives seminars on being a maid on weekends. It?s like...total emersion." "I...I?m not a maid," I stammered. "At this stage, who would expect you to be?" Helen said. "Like Marge said, it takes training. But Marge would rather give up the Army than give up being submissive. Really, though, she likes both. When I pick up the strap, it gives new meaning to ?drop and give me 20.?" Tara laughed. Helen laughed. Marge laughed. I didn?t laugh. * * It was a few days later, a Wednesday, when Tara announced to me that she was going to have a couple of women from the neighborhood over for tea. Yes, my presence was required. Every so often, Tara said, the women would gather and talk casually, about their marriages, about their jobs, about their kids. Tara thought it was time that Charlene took part in one of those hen meetings. And so I wore a summer dress ? blue with white flowers ? and low flats. My hair was in pigtails, tied up wit blue ribbons. My lipstick and fingernails were a soft pink. Yeah, I felt as clownish as ever. Three women came to the tea ? Nancy, Tess and Ellie. But Charlene seemed to be the center of attention. "How long have you been dressing like this?" Ellie asked. "It seems like forever," I said. "She means she?s been dressing in private," Tara said. "But she?s only been out for a few weeks." "Well, welcome to our side," Tess said, lifting her cup. "Hear, hear," Nancy said. "I don?t know why anyone would want to be a guy when they can be a sissy like Charlene.." "Well, I?m not exactly a sissy..." I protested. "You aren?t exactly a linebacker, either, girlfriend," Ellie said. "Don?t you just love being feminine?" I looked at her. "Tell her, Charlene," Tara said. "Tell her how much you love it." "I...I?m very happy this way," I said through gritted treeth. "It feels nice." "Tell us," Ellie said. "What?s your favorite article of clothing? What turns you on the most?" "Oh, all of it," I lied. "Come on, sister. You like your boobies in the right bra, right?" "Um...I get tired of wearing a bra," I said. "Me, too," Nancy said. "Those underwires are a pain. But I like panty girdles. I love the weight of them." "They?re nice," I said, trying to blusher my way through the conversation. "Corsets are fun." "God, I had corsets," Tess said. "They?re made for masochists, I think. Or hookers. Maybe ... some other women." "It?s okay, Tess," Tara said. "Charlene knows who she is. She?s girly because she gets to be. Remember, she used to be a boy." Used to be? "But you?re all girl now, right?" Nancy said. "I mean, Tara tells me you like girls and guys." I looked at Tara. Where in the hell did she get that idea? "I think guys are fun," Ellie said. "Stupid, but fun." "Who else is going to mow the lawn?" Nancy said, laughing. "Have you ever had sex with a man?" Tess asked. I looked at Tara. "Of course not," I said. "I?m married." "Well, some people fool around," Ellie said. "You can?t convince me you?ve never had a dick in your mouth." "Who hasn?t?" Tess said. "I haven?t," I said. "If you say so," Nancy said. "But I tell you ? I love it when Bennie takes aim at my tonsils," Nancy said. "Yeah. From what I hear, you like that. You?re lucky that when you had your son, he didn?t come out of your throat," Ellie said. The women cackled. I had no idea that women could be this ribald. They were like...guys. Suddenly, there were playing a game of "have you ever?" "Ever had a threesome?" Tess wondered. "Twice. Does that count as a six some?" "Ever had lesbian sex?" "Are you asking me, sweet lips?" "Ever buy a sex toy?" "I have a vibrator. How about you, Tara? Did you and Charlene by one of those two-headed dildos yet?" "No," Tara said, giggling. "But I?m going to buy Charlene a cage, one with a key and everything. She wants one to go with her maid?s dress." "Oooooh," Nancy said. "She has a maid?s dress? That sounds cool." "I want to see it," Tess said. "Can I see it?" "Maybe later," Tara said. "You could serve lunch if you want, Charlene." "We?re playing a game" Ellie said, an edge to her voice. "Now tell me the truth: Who would you rather have up your ass? Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford?" "Jeez, what decade is this?" Tara said. "Come on, Charlene. Answer the question." The four of them were staring at me, waiting. I had to say something, didn?t I? Even if it was a lie. "Brad," I said. And they applauded. * * * The days turned into weeks, and a hidden fear emerged for me. I was starting to get used to it. I mean, I didn?t like it ? no real man would. But the slick feeling of panties, the tight embrace of a bra, the embrace of a dress ? was starting to feel normal. I woke in the morning, and I hiked up my nightgown as I sat to urinate. I reached for my panties and a bra. I put on my makeup. And it was all routine by now. That scored me most of all. When I took tie to think about my plight, I still wanted to scream. But everyone related to me was a woman now ? my wife, my children, my in- laws, my co-workers. I was seeing doctors while en femme. I was going to the grocery store. I picked up the kids from school ? all dressed as a woman. It felt like life now. It felt ordinary. One Wednesday morning, I called my old friend Jackson Green and asked me to meet me for lunch. I dreaded his reaction when he saw me, but hell, I had to talk to someone. Jackson was an old buddy. He was the voice or reason. He?d have a solution for me. We met at Barnaby?s, a burger-and-beer join on 57th. I was in the corner, wearing a jade green dress. I had on a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of women?s sunglasses. Jackson came in, and he looked around the bar, not recognizing anyone. "Jackson," I said in a loud whisper. "Over here." Jackson looked at me, surprise on his face. He saw my hair cascade over my shoulders. He saw my dress. He saw my lipstick After a moment, he approached the table. "Charlie?" he said, tentatively. "Yeah, it?s me," I said, embarrassed. "What in the hell are you doing dressed like that, Charlie? Did you lose a bet? Or did you lose your mind?" "Um, sit down. I need to talk to someone." "Yeah. A psychiatrist." "Don?t make jokes, Jackson. I?m dressing like this for a reason." "Because it shows off your ass?" "Funny. No, I .... I was fooling around on Tara. She found out about it, and instead of owning up to it, I made a mistake and told her that I was a cross-dresser. She believed me and, well, here I am." "Jesus. Do your kids know you?re living as a woman?" "Yeah," I said. "And my father in law. And the people at work. I?m trapped, Jackson." "Shit. Why not just fucking tell her you had an affair? Be a man. Unless you don?t want to, that is" He looked me up and down again. I was as embarrassed as hell. "She?d wipe me out, Jackson. It would ruin my life." "Is this really any better? Dressing like a pussy? How long are you going to keep this up? Forever? Til you meet Mr. Right?" "That?s what I wanted to talk about. I?ve got to get back to my life. I can?t live life as a woman. Well, not a woman. As a transvestite. As a cross-dresser." "As a sissy?" "Yeah, if you want to call me that. Shit, I never should have taken up with Darcy." "Darcy? Darcy Billings? Really. Shit, Anthony will kill you if he finds out. He?s done time, Charlie. He?s crazy. I didn?t think you were that stupid." He looked at me. "Of course, I could be wrong." I sighed. I crossed my legs, and I noticed that Jackson was watching. To be honest, he didn?t seem repulsed. "Tell me the truth, Charlie. Do the clothes feel nice to you?" "Well, kind of of. That?s the problem. You dress like this long enough, and you start to like it. I?m going over the edge, Jackson. I don?t want to be in makeup. I don?t want to wear a wig." Jackson smiled. "Are you sure about that?" "Of course I?m sure. What do you mean by that?" "I mean. you look comfortable enough in a dress," he said. "You don?t seem embarrassed at all. You look like just another woman having a drink with a guy." "You have no idea how embarrassed I am, Jackson. It?s killing me." Jackson shook his head. "You?re telling me you put on women?s clothing every fucking day of your life?" he said, doubt in his voice. "That?s twisted, man. A guy wouldn?t do that unless, deep down, he likes it. Have you thought about it, Charlie? Maybe you really are a transvestite. I think you need to talk to a professional before you wake up with a dick in your ass." "That?s not going to happen, Jackson. I swear, this just snowballed on me. I never intended for it change my life." "Yeah, next thing you know is you?ll get tits." I blushed. "Charlie...do you have tits?" "No I mean, no! Tara has me on these pills, but I don?t have anything yet." "Yet?" "You know what I mean," I said. "Here?s what I think, Charlie," he said, sighing loudly. "I think that deep down, you like this. I think you made up the whole story about Darcy. I think you want to live as a woman, and you?re trying to convince the world that it?s all Tara?s fault. Christ, Charlie. No one really cares if you?re a chick. Just have the balls to admit that you don?t have any balls." "Jackson, you?ve got to believe me. This is all a bad idea that?s gone wrong." "Charlie, if you want to blow the bartender, well, I?m okay with it. If you want to come out and dance at the Gay Pride Parade, it?s cool. Just don?t lie to me, Charlie. Or to yourself." "I?m not lying..." I said. "Of course you are. Why did you wear a dress here today? Why not just wear pants and a t-shirt? Why wear lipstick? Did you want to look pretty for me, Charlie?" I lowered my head. Tears began to swell in my eyes. "Oh, don?t pout, sissy boy," Jackson said. "Your life will be a good one. You?ll be pretty, and you?ll be sweet, and everyone will forget you ever tried to be a man. Maybe you?ll get the surgery and be complete." "Jackson, why are you talking to me like this?" "Your real friends will tell you the truth in life, Charlie. And I?m your friend. Hell, if things happen the way I think you want them to happen, we could be really good friends." His hand covered mine. "I think you should just surrender. Hell, if you want, you can start by giving me a blowjob." I was crying by now. I could not convince Jackson that I wasn?t really a transvestite, either. I stood up and started to stalk away. Behind me, I could hear Jackson?s voice. "Temperamental," he said. "Just like a fucking girl." * * "So, Other Mom. Are you and Mom lesbians?" Molly and I were sitting on a couch, watching Breakfast on Pluto. She had picked out the movie on tubi.com. It was about a transvestite and her vignettes. It wasn?t bad if you liked that sort of thing. I was seated on the floor. Molly was behind me, on the couch, braiding my wig as we watched. "No...well, I guess it depends on your definition. If you think of us as two women, well, I guess we?re lesbians," I said grudgingly. "If you think of me as a man, we?r e not." "You?re not even close to being a man," Molly said. "You?re as female as I am." I think she meant it as a compliment. We were quiet for a minute. "Have you met Mr. Murphy? He?s my social studies teacher." "No, I haven?t met him." "He?s nice. You?d like him. He?s gorgeous." "Molly, I?m not gay." "You just said you were a lesbian." "I should have said that I?m not attracted to men." "So...you?ve tried sleeping with men?" "No, I didn?t say that." "It?s okay, Other Mom. You?re a normal woman. It?s normal to want to see what it?s like." "Molly, this isn?t a conversation a man has with his daughter." "You aren?t a man. We established that." "I don?t want to date your teacher, Molly." "You haven?t even met him. He?s hunky." "I?m sure he is. But that?s not a step I want to take." "Some guys are capable of two, three steps a night," Molly said, giggling. "Christ, you know way more than you ought to know about this stuff." "I?m a big girl," Molly said. "Of course, so are you." "Molly, I?m not a woman." "No. Not yet. But you will be, and it?ll be cool. Aren?t you overflowing with emotions, Other Mom?" I looked at her. "Trust me," I said. "I could just cry." * * It was on a Thursday when I was at the market. I was wearing a plain khaki dress and brown heels. I was in the vegetable section when I saw her. Darcy. Now, if you knew Darcy, you?d know that she almost never grocery shops. She?s too regal for that. But there she was, in a print blouse and blue slacks. Cautiously, I walked up to her. "Hello, Darcy," I said quietly. "Oh...hi," she said, puzzled. "Do I know you?" "It?s me," I said. "Charlie." Darcy?s hand flew to her mouth. "Charlie? Shit. You?re...you?re a girl." "Not really, Darcy. I?m just dressing this way." "Christ. You?re a homo? Christ, it all makes sense now." I looked at her. "What makes sense." "Well, your ... little thing." "Darcy, I don?t have a little thing. And as I recall, you kind of liked it." "Oh, shit. A woman will say anything to a guy, Charlie. Except you don?t seem to be a guy anymore. If I?d have known, I?d have dressed you up. We could have picked up men." I sighed. "Tara found your bra, Darcy. I told her it was mine to keep her from finding out about us ... and this happened." "Why the hell would you tell her it was yours? Unless you wanted this. I mean, why wouldn?t just admit he was caught. I always do. Hell, I like sex. When I get caught, I don?t act like I?ve got a cock and start smoking cigars. Are you going to get a sex change operation?" "No, Darcy," I said. "I just made a mistake and it got out of hand. I know that now. But, Darcy, I?ve missed you." "What? You think I"m a dyke now? I slept around because I like cock, Charlie. I didn?t think you liked it too." "I don?t. I just ..." "Hey, Darcy. Who?s your friend?" I looked over, and it was Anthony, dark and hulking, his black hair lacquered to to his head. He looked bigger than I remembered. Meaner. "This. This is Charlie. He and I used to work together." "He?" "Yeah. He?s a slut with nuts. A chick with a dick. A ho with a little mo?. You know, a tranny." "Holy shit. Really?" "Yeah. Charlie was just telling me he turned fag about a year ago." "Christ. Charlie, you want to hear something funny. I used to think you were sleeping with my wife. I guess I shouldn?t have worried." "It hasn?t been a year," I said. "It?s just been a few weeks." "That?s cool, Charlie. Is it still Charlie?" "Uh, my wife calls me Charlene." "Well, isn?t that precious, Anthony?" Darcy sneered. "Do you still have a thing for cross-dressers?" "That was just the one time, Darcy. You know that," Anthony said. "Well, it was one person. But the way I hear it it, it was three or four times." "Darcy, don?t be a bitch," Anthony said. "But, sugar," she said. "I?m so good at it." She looked at me and grinned. "Just like Charlene," she said. * * Pressure builds. Frustration boils over. People rebel. Damn it, I was tired of dressing like a woman. It was time to be heard, no matter what the cost. It was time I ended the game. "Charlene...I found your mob cap," Tara said, walking into the kitchen. "I thought you would be on you way to help Marge with their windows. Weren?t you doing that today? Why aren?t you in your maid?s dress?" "I?m...I?m not going," I said. "Do you feel okay?" Tara said. "I?m fine. We just need to talk. I think it?s long overdue." "Oh. Okay." Tara sat at the table across from me. "This charade has to end," I said. "Tara, I?m not a transvestite." "Of course not," Tara said. "You?re transgender. You?re a woman" "Please listen. I?ve never been a cross-dresser. I ...I was having an affair when you found the bra, and I lied. I kept lying because...I didn?t want to lose you." Tara looked at me. She shook her head. "So what you?re telling me is that you fucked some skank, and then you lied about it," Tara said, menacingly. "You took your tiny dick, and you shoved it into the nearest moisture? All in the name of sleeping with someone who wasn?t your wife." "Yes," I said quietly. "Was it with Jackson?" "No," I said. "Of course not. It was with a woman. I?ve never slept with a man." "So you slept with one woman?" "Yes. Well, I mean, if I?m honest, there were three or four over the years. But it was all normal sex," I said. "So you?re a serial cheater? A lying maggot of a man who has repeatedly broken his marriage vows with a series of whores?" "I?m not proud of it," I said. "I?m sorry. But, yeah, I slept with other women." Tara?s eyes were ablaze. Her lips were tight. She had a sneer on her face. "I know," she said. "You...you know?" "Do you think I?m an idiot, Charlie? Of course I know. I?ve always known. You aren?t nearly as slick as you think you are. I?ve known all along." "Then, why did you dress me up?" "Did I force you to dress you up, Charlie? Or did part of you want this? When you cheated, did you ever think you might be compensating for something? I knew you were screwing around, and when you said the bra was yours, well, I thought it was a cry for help. So I just nudged you along. It was fun watching you squirm. " "Why would you be so mean?" "Charlie, I wasn?t being mean. Every time I put you into a dress, you had a smile on your face. You loved this shit, even if you won?t admit it to yourself. I just opened the door. You walked inside." I sat there, feeling foolish and exposed and guilty. Was she right? Was I unable to talk my way out of dresses because, really, I didn?t want to talk myself out? "So...what happens now, Tara? I said softly. "What do you want to happen, Charlene? You don?t have any male clothes anymore. Your female self-image is growing faster than your boobs. Everyone you know thinks you?re a woman. If you want a divorce, you can have one. But if you want to be in your kids? lives, I?d get into my uniform and go help Marge. And curtsey when you leave. When you come home tonight, we won?t talk about it anymore." I hung my head. Yes, Charlene?s prospects were better than Charlie?s. If I moved out, would I do it as him or her? The idea of dressing as a male was foreign to me now. When we went to a restaurant, or to the market, or to the mall, everyone knew me as "her." I bowed my head. "Can you call Marge and tell I?ll be there as quick as I can," I said in surrender. * * Epilogue Why do women cheat? Because it?s worth it, that?s why. It?s worth all the manipulation, all of the deceit, all of the lies. It?s worth the time. It?s worth the money. It?s worth the sneaking around. Don?t blame me. Sissies are just wired that way. It?s been part of our DNA since we were being dragged around by cavemen. Only then, we did our work with wiles; now, we do it with guile. It?s the thrill of being chased the rush of being conquest, the smug feeling of knowing what you have gotten away with It?s being smooth. It?s being sexy. It?s living life as a pretty young girl. Why? Because there is nothing llike that first thrust of a new cock slide into your ass, the sweet submission you feel as it happens. It is heaven. It?s like stealing candy. Take Anthony, for instance. It?s a bit of a stereotype that a sissy has an affair with her ex-girlfriend?s husband, but it happens. Anthony was a muscular man who liked to make me squeal in foreign languages. His was married to Darcy, a dim-witted bimbo who cared only about jewelry. He let me know soon after my transition that he found me attractive. I wasn?t his first either. At the Flytrap Hotel, they knew Anthony by his first name ? the same way they had known Jackson or Paul or Leon when it was their turn. And so we would spend hours making love. He would penetrate me, often before I could get my clothes off. It was raw and savage, and it touched a part of me that marriage could not. Did Tara know about it? Of course not. I was too smart, too slick. I was a woman who could handle a lot of men. My name is Charlene Moore, and I am a natural-born cheater. Copyright, 2021 by Cassandra Morgan