tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersJulian Falls in Love Ch. 02

Julian Falls in Love Ch. 02

byBabyPink©

I hope you enjoyed the first part of my story, which was my first real attempt at erotic writing. Judging by the kind comments I have received, which are much appreciated, I know at least some of you liked it. I certainly had a lot of fun writing the story. Here I relate my first experience in public dressed as a girl.

*

I woke up the next morning and was initially surprised to find myself in bed clad in a pink satin nightdress with a naked man. I had my head on Lawrence's chest and his arm around me. I had been worried the guilt of sleeping with him would overwhelm me in the cold light of day, but my feelings were quite the opposite. I couldn't believe my good fortune in meeting a man with whom I had such an affinity. Sensing I was awake, he opened his eyes, smiled sweetly, and then kissed me tenderly on the cheek.

"You're so nice!" I whispered.

"Not as nice as you," he objected gallantly, as he pressed his lips to mine and moved his hand down the back of my nightdress until it rested on my buttocks. Electricity seemed to spark from every pore of my body as I anticipated the prospect of imminent physical love. It was a Saturday morning and nothing was pressing. He rolled over on top of me. His kissing became more insistent and passionate, his tongue entering my mouth.

"I can't, darling", I protested, although it was said with reluctance. "I'm still a little sore down there from last night." I could feel a persistent throbbing centred around my rectum. However, it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

"Don't worry angel, I've no intention of hurting you!" said Lawrence. "Kneel over my face."

I had no idea what he had in mind but did as I was told. Removing my nightdress, he pulled me down closer to him, then, quite unexpectedly, he began to lick my hairless scrotum. He did so with obvious relish, occasionally running his tongue as back so it lapped at my perineum. From time to time he even pushed the tip of his tongue into my anus. The sensation was quite exquisite and something I'd never experienced before. In fact, I never thought it could be experienced. I couldn't stop myself from emitting my girlish sighs as he sucked lightly on my balls. After a good while of this sublime pleasure, he stopped, then planted a single kiss on the tip of my now stiff penis.

He then pushed me back on the bed and asked me to lie on my side. He then lay beside me so that we were both facing each other's cocks. I had never done this before, yet it was clear what he wanted. His mouth quickly enveloped my tumescent member, whilst I flicked at his fraenulum with my tongue. His manly cock quickly stood up, bolt erect, with its beautiful, purple engorged gland. I gradually warmed to my task; I wanted to return the joy he was giving me. Very rapidly I felt the delicious sensation of approaching orgasm, as my lover fellated me with ardour. I shuddered violently, was forced to leave off my own oral stimulation, and spurted jet after jet of semen in Lawrence's mouth, my pelvis thrusting madly.

The feeling was so intense I felt dizzy and saw black spots in front of my eyes, as if I were about to pass out. It seemed five years of loneliness and sexual frustration had been expelled in that explosive orgasm. I couldn't help sobbing in sheer relief. Lawrence understood my feelings and gently cuddled me and kissed my tears away. I really loved this man and wanted to please him in every way. He was so kind and considerate in bed.

After I had recovered my composure, I asked him to sit on the bed and I knelt between his legs. I then began to suck at him with a new-found enthusiasm, now and then licking his balls and kissing his firm, muscled thighs. His self-control was far greater than mine and I spent a good ten minutes giving him oral pleasure until his body suddenly tensed and I knew he was going to come. I slipped my free hand under his firm bottom and slid my index finger into his anus. This was too much for him and tipped him over the edge. I rubbed his foreskin rapidly, whilst still keeping me lips wrapped around his member. Groaning hoarsely, he held me by the back of the head and ejaculated copiously into my waiting mouth. I swallowed every drop of his delectable warm emission, and then licked his cock completely clean.

"Angel, that was wonderful!" he exclaimed, pulling me up from the floor and sitting me on his knee. We kissed and caressed a long time, bathing in the afterglow of our fantastic lovemaking. "Let's shower and have breakfast," he said finally. "Then we'll think about how we're going to spend the day."

Stepping into his shower together, we began to soap each other under the hot gush of water and very quickly got turned on again. The shower was too small not to be intimate. We began to kiss. Almost imperceptibly at first, he began to move his hard cock against my crotch, having to lower himself slightly to get down to my height. I grabbed him around the neck and began to return his thrusts. As he held me by the waist and pulled me to him ever tighter, our mutual fucking became faster. Finally, we could hold out no longer and came together in a delightful orgasm, our tongues mingling in a lascivious kiss, the hot water streaming down our naked bodies. My knees felt so weak I had to cling desperately to my lover's neck; otherwise, my legs would have buckled entirely. But I was in ecstasy.

"That was definitely the best shower I've ever had!" Lawrence exclaimed, as we stepped out and towelled each other down. I hugged him and laughed freely, as I had done all too seldom in my lonely, repressed life.

"I normally shave after a shower, if you know what I mean?" He realised I meant my body hair. Even though I was not particularly hirsute, I shaved every three days or so to keep my skin silky smooth.

"With the greatest of pleasure!" he replied. He took a can of shaving foam and sprayed it liberally on my lower belly. He then seated me on the edge of the bath and smeared it all over my pubes and balls. Very carefully, he shaved off what few hairs had started to sprout up. He then turned me round and depilated my lower back and buttocks, finishing off with my legs. He then sponged me off with warm water and, after admiring his handiwork, kissed me on the upper thigh.

This intimate attention had caused me to regain my erection. "You can attend to that," Lawrence joked, "while I get breakfast." I needed relief, so while Lawrence went to the kitchen, I sat on the toilet and masturbated. It only took a few strokes until I spurted into the pan.

I put my nightdress back on and sat down to breakfast with Lawrence. "So, what are the plans for today, then, darling?" I asked.

"Well, I thought we might go for a drive this afternoon then tonight we could go to the cinema," he said.

"Sounds good to me," I replied. Then he hit me with the bombshell.

"And I'd like you to go to the cinema dressed up", he said, in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Too stunned to speak for a few seconds, I blurted out: "But that's insane! I couldn't possibly. I'd never get away with it!"

"Why not?" he retorted. "You're a very pretty girl when you're dressed up. Didn't you know that?"

Feeling my cheeks flush at the compliment, I nevertheless dug my heels in. "Look, Lawrence, it's never going to work! I'd just be too scared!" I was becoming angry at his nonchalance.

"Don't you trust me?" Lawrence asked. He stood up, put his arm around me and kissed me repeatedly on the cheek. "Please, just this once. If it doesn't work, I'll never ask you to do it again. Please, just for me."

My resolve softened when I felt his gentle touch and his obvious concern for me. I conceded defeat, even though the prospect of going out as a girl terrified me. "OK, but it will have to be the late night performance. I'm not going around as a girl in the daylight."

"Agreed," Lawrence said. "And don't worry. After I'm through with you, nobody will suspect you, honestly."

I wasn't convinced, but loved him deeply and didn't want to do anything to upset or displease him.

"I'll tell you what," Lawrence continued in a reassuring tone, "I'll go to the shops and get you a few extra things to make you look that bit more convincing."

"OK, darling. You go and I'll stay here to do some tidying up." After he left, I put on my bra, panties, denim mini-skirt and pretty white top with spaghetti straps. Already I felt quite like the little housewife as I cleaned, dusted, did the washing-up, then the laundry. I knew Lawrence was a stickler for order and tidiness and wanted him to be pleased with me when he got back.

While I was relaxing on the sofa listening to the radio after my morning's hard work, I heard Lawrence return. Again he was carrying quite a few bags, and I was intrigued what was in them.

"Hello, sweetheart. Been busy I see." Lawrence looked around approvingly at his immaculate living room. I jumped off the sofa to check the contents of the bags, but Lawrence stopped me. "No, let's go out first. You can try these on later."

I changed back into tee-shirt and jeans and we stocked up with a few snacks from the fridge. He then drove me to a local beauty spot about ten miles away, beside a lake. We lay on the grass and spent a lovely afternoon together under the blazing sun, eating our lunch and chatting pleasantly. We got back in his car around three o'clock and it was then I remembered my promise. My stomach began to churn as we travelled back.

When we got back to Lawrence's house I immediately rushed upstairs to find out what he had bought me. Looking in the largest bag first, I pulled out a gorgeous, lilac and white summer dress. There were also various ladies' toiletries and cosmetics, as well as underwear and some obviously inexpensive but pretty jewellery: a bead necklace, bangle set, and a pair of earrings. He had also purchased a long, auburn wig and a shoulder bag. As ever, Lawrence had an unerring sense of what would be to my taste, and had gone to great lengths to try to accentuate my growing femininity.

"What do you think?" a voice behind me enquired.

"They're really nice, dear. Thank you. Should I wear this dress tonight?"

"That's the idea. I've booked tickets for the 10.30 performance. We're getting the taxi there. I fancy a drink beforehand, so I don't want to drive."

Again a cold shiver passed up my back at the prospect of trying to pass off as a girl in a crowded pub, but I kept my thoughts to myself, trying to put on a brave face.

We passed the next few hours listening to music and watching a video. That time went by all too quickly. Again the fear mounted in my stomach. At seven, Lawrence declared: "Right, time for you to get ready!"

Leading me upstairs, he sat me on the chair in front of his bedroom mirror; he handed me a bottle of varnish so I could paint my nails, then watched as I applied make-up: foundation, lipstick, mascara and eye-shadow. I had been reading about cosmetics, and was becoming quite adept at applying them without making myself look like some kind of a painted hussy. I also plucked my eyebrows. I looked in the mirror; I didn't look too bad.

I stripped off my tee-shirt and jeans, and moisturised my legs. "What do you think, darling? Should I go bare-legged or wearing stockings?" I asked.

"Well, you have nice legs but stockings are more feminine," was the reply.

So I put on a pair of pink hold-up stockings, followed by a lacy bra and panty set, also pink. Lawrence then handed me a strange object attached to a strap. He called this a 'cache-sex' and said it went around my waist and down the front of my panties. It pressed my little penis down between my legs, suppressing erections and giving me a flatter, more feminine look. It certainly did the trick; after I'd put it on, you couldn't tell there was a penis between my legs.

I slipped on the new dress, which Lawrence zipped up at the back, and also a pair of strappy pink sling-backed sandals. My necklace, bangles and earrings were next, and Lawrence fixed my new wig on with a special adhesive, after he'd made all the necessary adjustments.

After I had squirted some perfume on my neck and the back of my hands, I was complete and ready to go. I checked the mirror again. My mood improved. I felt sexy and good about myself again. At least now there was some excitement mingling with the fear. Lawrence made me practice walking like a girl, keeping my legs together so that my stockings brushed against one another, and with a slight swaying of the hips, but without exaggeration.

I walked up and down the living room, making short, dainty strides, keeping one foot in front of the other, as I was told. I practiced using a softer voice, even though mine is rather effeminate already. Finally, he advised me to avoid sudden, brusque movements, but to do everything slowly and smoothly. I really needed longer than an hour for this, but I guess it was better than nothing.

"You look lovely, angel," Lawrence said, "but there is another thing you need -- a girl's name. I can't very well call you Julian. What should I call you?"

"I'll let you decide, darling," I replied.

"Well, Julia is a bit too obvious," he said. "I've always liked Emma. What do you think?"

"Emma's fine by me. It's nice." A shiver of delight ran up my spine to be thus referred to as a girl.

The clock ticked inexorably on. Unlike me, Lawrence got ready in about ten minutes. We sat on the sofa, waiting. Just after nine-thirty, the doorbell rang. For me, it was like the clap of doom.

"Come on, sweetheart. I'll look after you," said Lawrence, trying to calm me. I took his arm as I put my bag over my shoulder and walked to the door. I felt unsteady and needed his support. Finally, this was it. I was going to be exposed as a girl to the outside world.

"Taxi for Mr Scrivener to the rail station," said the man at the door.

"Yes," confirmed Lawrence. The driver didn't look twice at me, which was a relief. So far, so good. We stepped out into the night air. Despite the late hour, it was still sweltering -- very unusual for England. It occurred to me how superior girls' clothes are to men's in such weather. Whereas girls can keep cool and still wear clothes that are socially acceptable, men are forced to suffer in their stifling shirts and trousers. It seems to me that whoever first designed clothes specifically for men must have been some kind of sadist.

But I felt delightfully comfortable in my light, cotton mini-dress. It was only a ten minute ride to the station. Lawrence sat with me on the back seat, holding my hand throughout, knowing I needed reassurance. We stepped out, Lawrence paid the driver, and we walked along the streets. Even though they were very familiar to me, they seemed very different now. I felt vulnerable, threatened.

I was sick with nerves, and clung on to Lawrence's arm for comfort. "Where are we going first?" I could barely get the words out, my throat felt so constricted.

"I thought we'd go to the Red House for a little drink. It's not too crowded, even on a Saturday." The Red House, despite its name, is actually a pub, named after its distinctive red brick.

We turned the corner and entered. It wasn't as well populated as other bars in the town, but there were still a good few there. We went to the bar. "What would you like Emma?" he asked.

It felt wonderful to be addressed for the first time in public as a girl. "A large red wine, please," I replied. I needed the Dutch courage this would give me. We passed three handsome young men leaning on the bar and conversing. As we did so, I noticed one of them furtively looking down admiringly at my legs. I have to admit it gave me a thrill to know I was attractive to him, and it occurred to me how strong the hold is some women have over men.

We got the drinks and found an unoccupied corner table. Thankfully the pub lights were quite dim, so I didn't feel too vulnerable. I gulped my wine down quickly. I normally didn't drink but needed alcohol now. I asked Lawrence to get me another large wine. He went back to the bar. For the first time, I was left alone in public in girls' clothes. I began to relax slightly, partly because of the depressive effect of the alcohol.

Lawrence returned with my drink, clasped my hand and asked if I felt OK. "Not too bad," I replied," but I could do with another drink."

As I drank the wine and chatted, I felt distinctly better and started to believe I could get through the night without having a nervous breakdown.

We left and walked the short distance arm-in-arm to the cinema. Thankfully, there weren't too many in the audience. The house lights were fully on when we took our seats, and so I felt rather uncomfortable and exposed. However, after about ten minutes the lights dimmed as the usual pre-film adverts and trailers came on, and I loosened up a little.

The main feature had just started when the diuretic effect of the wine really kicked in and I desperately needed to pee. This was something I just hadn't thought about or planned. After crossing my legs tightly for a while, I realised I would just have to bite the bullet and go to the ladies'. Otherwise, I would pee my panties. I certainly couldn't go to the men's, dressed the way I was. I whispered to Lawrence that I would have to go and he told me just to keep calm and that I was doing very well.

Despite feeling slightly inebriated, my heart was in my mouth as I approached the door bearing the figure wearing a skirt symbol. I felt as if I were a smuggler carrying illegal contraband passing customs officials; my nervousness would surely give me away. I just hoped there was no-one in.

I pushed open the door and entered a new world, previously unexplored by myself. The atmosphere was fragrant with ladies' perfume. The toilets were obviously better maintained than is usually the case for men's, and there seemed to be mirrors everywhere. They were brightly lit, which added to my nerves. Unfortunately, I had to pass two women tidying themselves up in front of the mirrors and chatting. I felt sure they would somehow realise who I was and scream or something, but they paid me no attention. I dived for the door of one of the cubicles. "Made it!" I thought.

As I hitched up my dress, pulled down my panties, and sat down to pee, my emotions again swung around to optimism. I had entered the inner sanctum of the female world and had got away with it! Looking back, this was a watershed for me. After I'd finished, I washed my hands and even lingered in front of the mirrors, preening myself.

Pushing open the door of the ladies' room, relief wasn't the word - I was absolutely exultant. Gone were the nerves. Gone was the fear. I just felt I was walking on air. I regained my seat next to Lawrence. "Was everything all right?" he enquired.

I simply replied "yes, just fine" and squeezed his thigh to reinforce my meaning.

The film was "The English Patient" but, to be frank, I couldn't tell you much about the plot. We spent most of the hour and a half touching each other up and paid little attention to the film. Eventually, the credits rolled up, the house lights came back on, and we ventured back outside. He asked me if I would like to go for something to eat, but I replied that I would rather go straight home. As we walked to the taxi rank, holding hands, I dragged Lawrence to an obscure spot behind a high wall, flung my arms around his neck, and kissed him open-mouthed with a hungry passion. Pulling away from him I remarked: "That's nothing to what's in store for you when I get you back!"

The sheer relief of experiencing so much fear and tension, and yet coming through it victorious, had sent my libido through the roof. I was so excited, and needed sex desperately. To put it crudely, I was going to let him have the fuck of his life when we got back to his place, to celebrate my public outing as a girl.

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