1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    but no one else appeared to be within earshot. She'd gotten close to me because I always kept my eyes fixed firmly on the merchandise, avoiding the knowing looks of the other -- inevitably female -- customers. &#034It's not for me,&#034 I lied automatically. And blushed. Her face, which had been open and amused, went closed and cautious. Hurt? I don't know. &#034It's for my s****r,&#034 I added. I did have a s****r. &#034Christmas present,&#034 I mumbled. &#034I see,&#034 she said, coldly. &#034Do you know what colors *she* prefers? What does she look like? Green eyes, brown, curly hair, high cheekbones?&#034 She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. &#034No,&#034 I replied, softly, feeling as if someone had taken a knife to my gut. &#034You've seen her pictures. Sort of dirty blonde, brown eyes. I don't know about cheekbones, I never noticed.&#034 I was looking down. I didn't want her to see how much it hurt. &#034Oh,&#034 she replied, sounding disconcerted. I still didn't look up. She released the basket I was holding, and I glanced up, quickly, to see that she had a puzzled, worried look. I gave her the famous mechanical smile, and walked away. She was right, I decided at home. They weren't my colors. At least I hadn't got any mascara; the tears would have made it run. I got back from my parents around the second of January. It had been the usual hideous Christmas, with inappropriate gifts and the required oohing and ahhing. I was as guilty as anyone else, of course, but that only ...
    made it worse. The only bright point was my s****r's baby, who got things she really *did* like, and enjoyed them quite openly. I almost asked my s****r for makeup advice, but... what did it matter? Nobody was ever going to see *me* in makeup. And if it made me look ridiculous, well, that would go well with the rest of my outfit, right? There was a gift waiting for me. From Nancy. Two sets of makeup, one for a blonde, one for a green-eyed brunette. Or brunet. Also a little booklet of beauty tips. The note: &#034I'm sorry I misinterpreted... if I did. Here's something that should be more appropriate for your s****r. And some for your friend, Amy. Merry Christmas. Love, Nancy.&#034 I worried at that note, and the package, for days. Why was that comma there, after the word 'friend?' Sending the makeup off to my s****r was an easy decision. A good one, too, it turns out; she sent a letter back a week later effusively thanking Nancy (I'd told her who it was from). When I nerved myself to try the other, I discovered that she had been right. The mustache looked more out of place than ever, but in a bad light, if I put my hand over my mouth and upper lip, I might have passed for a woman with absolutely no skill in putting on makeup. I'd gotten a pretty nice haircut at home, too, more feminine than I had let myself wear it when Nancy and I had been together -- just bangs in front, but that made an incredible difference from pulling it all straight back in the usual ugly guy's style. ...
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