Contribution to the Community
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My Gated Community free porn video
MY GATED COMMUNNITY
Sleazy Blonde, 2021
I was enjoying a leisurely Saturday afternoon reading a mystery novel in
our living room when the doorbell rang. We hadn't been expecting anyone.
I took a quick look around the room; everything seemed neat, tidy, and put
away. I saw my three-hour hourglass was nearing its end. I sighed and put
my novel down.
I welcomed Kim, Lisa, and Mary into our home. They were wonderful
neighbors whom we had grown to know in the three months since we had moved
here. Pleasant Settings: it's a lovely, pleasing name for a tranquil,
gated, retirement community. We had been in a position to retire because
of our shrewd investments in pharmaceutical companies before COVID hit.
Fifty and retired. It's wonderful.
I gave a brief tour of our home; only Lisa had been in it before. In the
kitchen, Miele appliances, wall ovens, the large island with a second
sink, the granite countertops, the Villeroy and Boch tableware, the
Waterford crystal. I said nothing of these; I didn't have to; my guests
could see them. I started coffee and tea and organized some snacks.
"Feel free to look at the dining room and living room," I happily
encouraged them.
In the dining room, they could see the magnificent veneer table (a
Hungarian antique, I might add), the 18th century cabinet (I didn't tell
them it was a Charles Cressent), a remarkably diverse collection of knick-
knacks from across the world, and stunningly vibrant and colorful
Himalayan carpet.
In the living room, they began to sit on the very long, walnut-framed,
black leather couch (a Ceccotti by Vincenzo De Cotiis). Before the couch
was a similarly long and rather high South-West Asian puzzle trunk; my
husband had acquired it during one of his longer tours in the diplomatic
corps. Across from the couch and trunk were two walnut-framed, brown
leather lounge chairs by Otio. Between them was a small Craftsman-style
table. More knick-knacks in the room; bookshelves flanking the fireplace.
And on the walls of these two rooms were two modest pieces by Njideka
Akunyili Crosby and our most delightful acquisitions, three John Currin
masterpieces. The latter really strike a chord in my heart.
We sat. The coffee, tea, and snacks were served from the trunk. Mary began
with the weather. Kim turned the conversation toward food prices. I noted
the dangers of processed food. Lisa mentioned cancer and healthier
living. The conversation rambled.
And then it took an unexpected turn. My guests glanced nervously at each
other.
"Our community is very private," Kim assured me.
"People are very discrete here," Lisa added.
"We're very tolerant, especially of one another," Mary said.
I said nothing. I did raise my eyebrows, though, in a manner that in
novels encourages people to continue to speak. It worked here too!
"We have a club of sorts," Kim began. "It allows us to explore and
experiment with social boundaries. There's a lot of fun to be had,
frankly, in... well, in... 'trans' gressing social norms."
Lisa continued. "Everyone in the neighborhood joins in. It's very much an
excuse to get together and have a good party!" she squealed. "It can be
quite riotous, actually. Our husbands have grown to love these events
too!"
"Some found it awkward at first but grew to embrace our way with a
passion," Mary interjected. She smiled with pride. "My Greg really took to
it like a duck to water!"
I was intrigued and puzzled. "What precisely does the club do? I'm sure
we'd be game to play along if it involves meeting others and living wholly
here. It's one of the reasons why we moved here."
Once again, they exchanged nervous glances.
"It's not too radical," Kim started. "It's become more and more socially
acceptable."
"It's strengthened our marriages, I can assure you of that," Lisa
exclaimed, obviously proud. "My Vince and I are closer than ever before
and... our sex life is... well, it's really taken off in a great new
direction!"
Mary took some more tea and looked me in the eye evenly. "Both of you have
struck us as being open-minded enough to try something bold and
different." She hesitated a moment. "You are very open-minded, aren't
you?"
A great sex life after fifty? I wanted to know more. I nodded vigorously.
"Since that's the case," Kim said taking a deep breath, "here it is. Our
husbands dress up in women's clothing. To the nines. Not like hookers at a
Halloween party. Not like French maids in some putrid transgender online
fiction. No. We're talking about evening gowns, little black dresses,
skirt-suits, summer A-line---"
Lisa interrupted Kim. "Classic heels, distinguished stilettos, court
pumps, traditional seamed hosiery and garters, elegant lingerie, corsets--
-"
Mary interrupted Lisa who had interrupted Kim. "We really get enthused
about it. Nothing beats seeing your husband wearing C or B-sized breast
forms in a stunning bra. Once the makeup is on, they're to die for!
Earrings, wigs, jewelry beyond belief. And they---"
Kim interrupted Mary who had interrupted Lisa who had interrupted Kim.
"The guys get it! They see us happy! They just banter about as they always
have but now, they do it in women's clothing. It's funny as hell watching
a group of men in dresses and skirts talk about the NFL and NASCAR but
that's what they do!"
Kim: "We wouldn't bring this up with you, but you seem so... so perfect to
be welcomed into our neighborhood hobby. The two of you would meet
everyone and become a deeply ingrained part of our community very much."
Her sincerity was obvious.
Lisa: "Crossdressing. Men wearing women's clothing. Having fun. Not some
Roman orgy. Not some sexually depraved wife-swapping club. Just normal
people getting together having fun. With friends." Her eyes pleaded with
me.
Mary: "I can't help but mention that it has the rather unexpected effect
of making our husbands a bit more considerate of our views. Now they
understand why it takes us so long to get ready to go out. They also tend
to help around the house more."
I said nothing.
Kim felt obliged to assuage my fears. "Please give it some thought,
There's no bondage. No humiliation. No Fifty Shades of Gray stuff. Just
fun get-togethers with friends in the neighborhood."
Lisa joined her in this plea. "We love our husbands. And they love us. No
one gets hurt. No one gets disrespected. We all in this together.
Maturity. Respect. Politeness. Sure, there's the odd joke but they're
lighthearted, of course."
Mary concluded their pitch with some kind words. "It's an offer. It's an
invitation. Our next event is at the Common Hall. That's the big one by
the community pool. No outsiders. It's private and no one will mock either
of you." She smiled.
I sighed.
"My good friends, my dear friends. I feel quite honored that you have
considered inviting us to join in your... unique community activity. I
confess being a bit slow right now thinking of my husband in a dress. I'm
not too sure it's his style." I spoke with my usual restraint and
discipline.
"I'm going to have to give it some thought. This would be a new direction
for us. Honestly, I'm quite happy with our sex life right now. I think we
have things exactly where they should be. That said, I will give this some
thought." I meant every word I said.
I chuckled. "The three of you present a good argument for stretching our
boundaries. I'm sorry to hear that the cheap hooker look is not the norm
though," I laughed, "but I'm sure we could find a way to make his dressing
up a provocative and stimulating experience."
I clapped my hands on my thighs, took a last sip of tea, glanced at the
hourglass, and sadly informed my guests that I had things to do, people to
see, places to go, etc.. They had dropped by unexpectedly; they understood
and graciously began their farewells.
I showed them the door. I closed the door and leaned against it.
This, I knew, was a turning point. I had a choice. I could try to persuade
my husband of the merits of enlisting ourselves into this unique and odd
community further. They were nice people. I was surprised to learn of
their quirky little community habit. Whatever. If that's what it took for
them to have fun, then so be it. I shook my head thinking of my husband
wearing an A-line dress or a Versace gown. Him in high heels? Persuasion
would be simple; I knew that. I laughed at the thought.
But a new direction? Did I want us to change course? We'd have to; I
couldn't think of anyway in which we could keep our current pattern of
life if we were to be carrying on as two women going out and having fun.
That's really not what men and women do, from my vantage point. It sounded
all too equal. Call me strange, but I believe women and men, wives and
husbands, each have unique roles to play in a marriage.
And perhaps those roles should remain respected, not transgressed.
I liked being the female in our relationship. I knew my place. He knew
his. Stability. Certainty. No worries.
I rearranged the pillows on the couch. I straightened the draped blanket.
I checked that the stove was off. I stared at the mugs, sugar, cream, and
few remaining snacks on the trunk. I would take them to the kitchen later.
And there was my novel awaiting my eyes.
A new direction?
Fuck that; I love our current one. Accordingly, there would be no women's
clothing for my husband. I smiled, satisfied and content with my decision
for us.
I went to the mantel. The three-hour hourglass had run out about an hour
ago. I turned it over and restarted the countdown.
I picked up the small remote that was next to the hourglass. I cranked the
button on the remote to 10: maximum setting.
The trunk started to bounce slightly. The coffee and tea mugs and saucers
started to wiggle and rattle. Bounce, wiggle, rattle. Bounce, wiggle,
rattle.
I chuckled: there would be no new direction for my pathetic, meek,
obedient gimp.
I took my novel, grabbed a white wine from the fridge, and headed to the
patio.
finito
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