1. Trust


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

    other things that might make a 'self-respecting' man laugh in derision. Let them respect themselves, then, for narrow-mindedness and lack of imagination in bed; I discovered, as I began exploring and accepting my submissive and feminine qualities, that I could send Nancy out of her mind with bliss. I *paid attention* to her, and my own gratification, though it had driven me to bed, was something to be ignored -- no, not merely ignored, but put off as long as possible. I fully intended to make her so dependent upon me as a gentle, sensitive, and responsive lover that the thought of going for a piece of meat attached to a set of muscles would be completely laughable. I didn't work all this out in a day, of course. Nor was our home life all smooth sailing, with turbulence reserved for between the sheets. As I was considering these things, I started thinking about the image I presented at school, and began to soften it, deliberately. Until one day I wore a bra under my blouse to school, and got away with it. I crowed about it to Nancy, that evening, and she went into a rage. She was tired from the extra work she was doing. But after she calmed down enough to explain it to me, and managed to get me to stop crying, she explained it. My acceptance, she pointed out, didn't change the opinions, or if you wish, the prejudices of society. Had someone caught me, doing a job in which I was known as male, and expected to set some sort of example (a stereotypical example), I would at ...
    least have become a figure of fun, and possibly something much worse. It was, as she told me, *our* secret, and had to be, because what I could share with her wasn't something that the world was willing to share, or even to permit us to share, if it were to become known. In fact, that was why she had introduced me as Ginny at her workplace, because no one there had seen me more than a time or two, back when I still had my mustache and dressed as drably as possible. That meant that anyone seeing us together, when I was dressed to pass -- and her colleagues were likelier to see us than mine -- would assume that it was Nancy and Ginny, not Nancy and Lee. Should someone from the school catch sight of me, we had that alibi already firmly established, and an entire business office ready to swear to the independent existence of Ginny. At that point, I realized that one of the other things I enjoyed about cross-dressing was thumbing my nose at society. Secretly. Our occasional (very occasional, at that stage) outings turned from something dreadful and frightening to adventures. And did the sparkle in my eye increase the gleam in hers? Just guess! In mid-May, though, I found out what had been occupying Nancy all those long evenings. She'd been trying to find us a house, that we could together afford. One with a hedge, or a fence, or somewhere enclosed so that I wouldn't have to be perfect just to get out in the open air. Open air, in fact, is a marvelous aphrodisiac. When she told me, my ...
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