1. Look up at Me


    Date: 8/4/2015, Categories: Crossdressing, Author: thatfemininUrge, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

    poured myself a re-assuring bourbon and water to sip on. I knew that he was a biker, and I was not going to dress in a short skirt. Instead I chose to wiggle on a pair of very tight blue jeans that when pulled up clearly would reveal the outline of the pussy of my V-string. Yes, I clearly sported the toe of the camel. I wore a thong underneath. I put on a typical bra that gave a bit of support, but also allowed for that womanly jiggle and bounce of being full breasted. I put on a simple thin blue tight T-shirt that clearly showed that I had a bra on. My nipples, poked out seductively. I felt like a Venus fly-TRAMP. We were to first meet at a mini market that was located at a four way intersection. Once we met, then a chat and go from there. I pulled into the mini-market and realized that I needed gas, so I pulled over to the pumps. As I was pumping the gas, I received the typical male ogling stares that I welcomed. One guy even offering to pump my gas for me. I refused politely. As I waited for the tank to be filled, I heard, “Amanda?” I turned to look up at a burly six foot four man. He was thicker than I was wide at my shoulders. He wore a devilishly red skull cap. He had a trimmed thin beard and mustache. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt that exposed his big biceps that were tattooed. His belly hung over his blue jeans. He wore a pair of leather riding boots. I looked at him, gasped and said, “Yes. Are you Butch?” “Yep.” I held out my hand, daintily. He took it, held it ...
    softly and said, “Nice to meet you in person.” “Thank you,” I said. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.” I said that because I know that I don’t look like a Victoria's Secret model. “Disappointed? Hell no. You actually look better in person than in your pictures.” I smiled shyly, saying, “That just got you twenty five points.” “Oh I did not know there was a point system.” “There is now,” I giggled. When the pump kicked off, he immediately took the nozzle and put it back into the pump. It was a little gesture, but said much about how he would treat me. I asked where he was parked. He told me his bike was over there. I pulled over to his bike and parked as he walked there. When he got to my car, he opened the door. I got out, and he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was nervous. He said he was too. He told me that he really enjoyed our chat last night. I said that I did too. He asked what I wanted to do. I told him that I needed a drink to calm down. He said, "I know a quaint little pub about five miles down the road. We can go there, sit outside at a table and have lunch if I wanted." “Listen, you hop on the back of my hog, and we go there for a few rounds. We chat. We get to know one another. We take it from there.” I weighed the proposition. It went against every rule that I had created for my own safety. I thought about everything from the mundane to the critical. What if my wig blew off? I know it is secure but what “IF?” “Come on. I’d be honored to walk into any bar ...
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