Best Friends Forever Pt. 01

It's bad enough being single, but as a gay transvestite it sucks even more - and not in a good way either. Still, I can't complain, though. Working from home as a freelance artist does afford me the luxury of keeping my private life out of the spotlight since I love dressing like a woman more often than not. Occasionally, I hook up with a guy for a booty call to satisfy my sexual needs, but it would be nice to have a steady boyfriend.

Anyway, it's Friday morning. I should be out and about Christmas shopping like everyone else on the long holiday weekend, but I'm not. Instead, I'm sitting at my vanity putting on makeup so I can take a couple of sexy selfies to upload on my dating profile. Exhausted from staying up most of the night, I drift off to sleep with my iPhone in hand, dreaming about sex with some random guy.

"Let's change positions," he suggests, flipping me over to doggie style, then sliding his cock inside my tight, little sissy ass.

"Oh, my fucking God," I squeal, pulling a pillow over my head. "Fuck me - fuck me like a slut."

"Mmm... You must really like this position," he says, smacking my ass cheek with the palm of his hand as he thrusts his cock inside me.

"Oh!" I yelp, burying my head in the mattress as I push my ass up into the air.

"I want to cum in you," he says, pulling me into his thrusting hips, his balls slapping up against my skin.

"Oh - oh," I moan, spreading my legs wider to flatten out my body. "I want you to cum in me."

"That's it," he says, tugging the pillow from my hands. "Grind that sexy, little ass on my cock."

"Ohhh... Ahhh... Ahhh... Ahhh...," I moan and gasp, rubbing my breasts while I push my ass back against his cock.

"I'm close - so fucking close," he pants, coiling my hair around his hand and tugging my head until I arch my back.

Suddenly, my phone rings, waking me from my erotic dream. Sitting upright in the vanity chair, I glance at the time while I slowly come to my senses. I probably shouldn't answer the call, at least not right now - but it's my best friend Brian.

"Hey, Kevin," Brian sighs, with heartache in his voice, "do you have a minute?"

"Sure, Brian," I say, sliding my makeup to the side and propping up my head, smiling.

"Sara and I just had a falling out," he mumbles.

"So what's going on," I inquire, pushing back my vanity chair.

"I hate to ask," he hesitates, "but I really need a place to stay until things calm down."

"You can stay here," I offer, standing up and touching myself.

"Thanks," he says, exhaling a sigh of relief. "I'll stop by after work with some of my things."

"Alright, I'll see you then," I bid farewell, tossing my phone on the bathroom counter, realizing what I just committed myself to. "Fuck!"

I've known Brian my whole life, growing up in Newnan, Ga., a small, rural town southwest of Atlanta. He's like the older brother that I never had, joking and picking on me all in good fun. In some ways, I'm jealous of his popularity, but then again he was a star on the high school's football team while I kept to myself, staying in the library.

After graduation, we both enrolled in college at West Georgia College, pursuing our separate career choices. On the weekends, we partied like Hell together. Then, he started hooking me up with some of the women he broke up with after a few dates. Things never made it to the bedroom for me because I have no interest in women beyond the sexy clothes they wear.

I don't hate women, but I look at them different than most guys do - like a competitor actually. Brian is the only person I see myself wanting to be with in a relationship. He doesn't know that I'm in love with him. Unfortunately I don't know how to tell him that either. Those feelings only surface when I'm wearing women's clothes.

Needless to say, there are certain aspects of my life I've kept hidden from him for obvious reasons. God forbid he finds out I touch myself when we're talking on the phone. Speaking of which, I should've started changing back to guy clothes when I hung up the phone instead of assuming that I have plenty of time on my hands.

Anyway, I'm the world's biggest procrastinator on the days I dress up like a woman, spending as much time as possible in the clothes. The sensual feelings of silky, satin fabric caressing my skin has the same psycho addictive effect on me as any drug would. Besides, I just spent most of the night shaving my body, dying my hair and getting all dressed up, not to mention putting on makeup and doing my nails.

"At least I have time to take some pics before he gets off work," I say, checking the time on my phone before turning on my CD player.

♫♪ I was born to run

I was born to dream

The craziest boy you ever seen

I gotta do it my way

Or no way at all ♪♫

Using my curling iron, I put a wisp in my hair and drape it over my eye while I shake my ass, jamming to the music. Then, I put in my gold dangling earrings and accent my black leather skirt with a shiny, metal chain belt. When I'm finished primping, I flop down on the bed with my iPhone, thinking of various poses for some sexy, erotic selfies to take. Before long, time gets away from me as I lose myself in my little pastime.

"This should be a good picture," I say, rolling around on the bed, touching myself as I snap off several pics from various angles.

Suddenly, the sound of something falling on my front porch, startles me. Rolling off my bed, I turn off my CD player and head into the living room, expecting the arrival of a package from Amazon. Then, my doorbell rings, quickening my pace.

"Just a minute," I holler, glancing at the time on my phone, "Hold your horses, I'm coming."

"Open the door, Kevin," Brian hollers. "It's me."

"Oh, shit," I gasp, stopping dead in my tracks.

A sick feeling churns in my stomach as my life flashes before my eyes like a slow motion car wreck. I wasn't expecting Brian to be here so soon. Normally, I at least check and see who's at the door if I'm al-dolled-up. Strangers aren't a big problem for me to greet at the door; they don't know me. It's people I know that throw me off. I get really quiet hoping they'll leave, assuming I'm either asleep or not at home - that is if I didn't announce my presence.

The doorbell rings again and I panic, feeling pressured with even fewer options. Eventually, I do want to tell Brian certain things about me, but this probably isn't the best time. The only practical solution I have right now is to open the door and hope to somehow bluff my way through the situation. Then, hurry back to my bedroom, close the door, and stall him until I change back into guy clothes.

Glancing through the peephole, I don't see him standing on the front porch. Thinking he went back to his car for something, I open the door, taking a chance that's the case. Instead, he's crouched down on the porch, tossing some of his belongings into a overfilled laundry basket.

"You're here early," I mumble, covering my mouth and turning my head, realizing I didn't attempt to alter my voice to sound feminine.

"Sara wouldn't let on me up with her nagging," he says, picking up the laundry basket and walking inside the house.

Shielding my face, I turn and head towards the safety of my bedroom. Every footstep is taxing me as I stumble over my high heels. To be so close, my bedroom feels like it's a hundreds of miles away from me. Still, I'm hoping that I can make it there before he stops me or suspects anything.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company," he apologizes, sweeping his eyes through the house, looking for me. "Hey, where did he run off to?"

"Uhhh... Uhhh...," I stutter, freezing dead in my tracks, staring into my bedroom.

Just as soon as Brian addresses me, I can feel his eyes settle on me, staring at me. Bluffing him is no longer an option. My body begins to tremble and shake with a nervous anxiety, the palms of my hands feel sweaty. I want to cry, but getting emotional now won't help escape my predicament.

"I'm right here," I mumble, bowing my head as I turn around to face him.

"That's a really neat -," he begins, studying me as he tries to match my voice to my face.

"It's not a trick," I interrupt, raising up my head and raking my hair over to the side. "This - this is who I am."

Brian looks like he just got hit by a freight train. He sweeps his eyes over me, I'm assuming, in disbelief. His silence has my mind running wild, playing tricks on me as I ponder any number of questions he could ask me.

"Are you - ," he begins, sitting the laundry basket down in the floor.

"I can change clothes," I interrupt, rubbing my palms, fidgeting, "if you're uncomfortable."

"Damn, dude, let me finish," he says, taking off his baseball cap, raking his fingertips though his shoulder-length, brown hair.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, shaking as I struggle to hold back my tears.

"Are you okay with me staying here for about a month or so," he asks.

"Uhhh... Sure," I say, mentally preparing for a million more questions to follow.

"I'll be right back," he says, walking back out the front door, raising his voice a bit. "The rest of my things are in the car."

I collapse on top of my coffee table, feeling like I just somehow ruined our friendship. With no idea of what's going through Brian's head, it's probably best if I let him open up first instead of volunteering to tell him anything more about my secret. Besides, the damage now is pretty much done. It's pointless for me to run off into my bedroom and change clothes.

"Look, I'm the one that needs a place to stay," he says, entering the doorway with another overfilled laundry basket, "so what you do in your house is really none of my business."

"I don't want to offend you," I say, avoiding eye contact, "or make you feel uncomfortable around me."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch - I'm sorry, that didn't sound right," he apologizes, closing the door. "What I'm trying to say is -"

"I know," I interrupt, tapping my fingernails on the coffee table. "You don't need to explain yourself."

"Okay, all jokes aside," he sighs, kicking off his shoes. "Which room do you want me to use?"

"You can use either of the guest bedrooms," I offer, standing up, "unless you'd rather sleep in my room."

It's a sly remark, but I probably need to watch what I'm saying to Brian. I haven't actually told him I'm gay or that I have a sexual interest in him. Besides, it's probably overwhelming him just seeing me dressed up like a woman.

"Hahaha... That's funny," he replies, studying me, "I hope you're joking."

"Hey, I have no problem sleeping out here on the sofa," I jest, covering up my sly remark as I walk past him, leading him towards the guest bedrooms.

"I wouldn't want to put you out like that in your own house," he adds, following me across the house with the laundry basket.

"There's just one problem," I warn, opening up the door for him.

"What's that," he asks, dumping his laundry basket out on the bed and sifting through the contents.

"I'm in the process of remodeling the guest bathroom," I explain, turning to leave, "so if you need to take a shower, you can use my bathroom."

"Here, you can have these," he says, handing me a pair of silver satin panties accented with black embroidery. "You make it sound as if we never showered together back in gym class."

"What are these for," I ask, taking the panties from him.

"They're Sara's," he says, passing me in the hallway, heading back to the living room. "I was keeping them as a souvenir incase things don't work out between us."

"They're - they're lovely," I say, heading back to my bedroom. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he says, picking up his other laundry basket.

My heart begins to sink when Brian closes the bedroom door, hiding himself from me. After closing my bedroom door, I lay the panties on my nightstand and tumble over on the bed. My eyes begin to puddle with tears, wishing that he would've talked with me more.

"I should've told Brian how I felt about him," I sniffle, folding my hands underneath my head as I stare up at the ceiling.

Upset with myself for no reason, I shutter my eyes to hold back some of my tears. Then, my mind goes crazy, overanalyzing the way Brian was studying me when he walked in the house. Soon, images of his adorable, handsome face, his jovial smile and bright, blue eyes filter into my thoughts as I reminisce about all the good times we spent playing together growing up.

"He probably thinks I have some kind of weird fetish or something," I sigh, sitting upright on the bed, collecting my composure.

Minutes trickle by and eat away me until I'm nothing more than just a prisoner of my own thoughts. Stumbling over to my bedroom door, I open it and stare across the house at Brian's closed door. Mustering what courage I have in me, I abandon my bedroom and sneak through the house, pausing at his door for a moment.

When I raise my hand to knock on the door, I overhear him arguing about something trivial on the phone. Feeling depressed, I back away from his door, rethinking my intentions. Afraid of the outcome, the rejection, or whatever I'm assuming, I scurry through the house, heading back to my bedroom.

I feel obligated to tell him I'm gay for some odd reason. Confessing anything more beyond that might cause our friendship to break down and dissolve. Most likely, I'm probably being short-sighted and not seeing the big picture. Things actually turned out a lot better than I expected with him seeing me dressed like a woman for the first time. Then again, that isn't something that directly affects him.

"He probably needs some space," I assume, closing the door behind me, "besides I don't even know where to begin on how to tell him I'm gay."

Despite all the uncertainty and crazy thoughts running amok in my head, it doesn't dampen my love for Brian. As a matter of fact, it makes me want to have sex with him more now than ever before. After pacing around and around in my bedroom touching myself, I head to the bathroom to rub one out for stress relief.

"God, I want to suck his fucking dick," I swear, slapping my hand on the counter top, studying myself in the mirror.

To me, masturbating seems like a chore and a total waste of time for only a couple of minutes of pleasure. I hate doing it; it's so depressing, especially when it's easy as Hell to hookup with any number of the guys hitting me up for sex to get some dick. Just thinking about sex and giving myself to Brian, however, makes me so horny.

Lifting my leather skirt over my hips, I slip my satin panties off my waist and let them sink to the floor. Then, I touch and fondle myself while I stare in the mirror and surrendering my mind to my fantasies, thinking about sex with him.

"Hey, I'm going to leave for a little while," Brian hollers, tapping on my bedroom door, startling me.

"Alright," I holler, trying to conceal my erection before I open the door.

"I'll be back later," he promises, waiting.

I crack open my bedroom door.

"What're you going to do," he asks.

The smell of cologne arouses my senses as I open up my bedroom door a little more. I know Brian all too well. There's a reason that he's dressed up in nice clothes. More than likely, he's going out on to meet someone new and forget about his problems with Sara. I can't say that I blame him. There's something about meeting someone that's really exciting among other things.

"I'm might take a nap," I fib, hiding behind my bedroom door, " since I was most of the night."

"Would you mind leaving the door unlocked for me," he asks, glancing over my shoulder and into my bedroom before turning away.

"Take the spare key," I suggest, undressing him with my eyes when he turns around. "It's on the wall beside the front door."

Just as soon as Brian walks out the front door, I walk over to the bedroom window and watch him through the blinds until he gets in his car. When he backs out of the driveway, I collapse over onto the bed. Before long, my mind is on fire again, fantasizing about having sex with him.