I Want You Inside Me ...

I stood in the elevator, very conscious of the ten or so people in the tight space surrounding me.

I waited for someone to say something. I could feel the sweat running down my chest. I waited for the laughter, and the finger-pointing; the fear of embarrassment and humiliation rising within me.

"What was I thinking, why did I do this?" I started trembling and it was everything I could do to force myself to remain calm, I had to make sure that nobody could know.

Nothing happened.

No one said anything. People looked at everything else in the elevator, except each other, like they always do. The elevator descended from the spa's tenth-floor offices.

The doors opened and closed on different floors, and people got on and got off. Other than nods and acknowledgments, nothing happened.

Nobody knew me. Nobody guessed.

The music played and the doors opened to my floor ... the lobby.

I stepped forward, moved around a couple of men in front of me, and then stepped out of the elevator.

Still, no one said anything unfriendly or accusatory. I was the only person getting off at this floor, everyone else must be going to the parking level.

The door closed.

Across from the elevator doors stood a woman. She looked attractive, her hair was short but attractive, and from what I could see she had a nice body beneath her clothes. It was a little hard to tell because she wore high boots, jeans, and a tank top mostly hidden by a large sweater. Her jewelry was just enough, her makeup was maybe a little too much but was tasteful, and her perfume seemed like wildflowers and spice.

She blinked.

I blinked.

The image in the mirror stared back at me. For a moment all I could do was look at myself.

I wasn't Richard.

---

Looking at my reflection, standing there my anxiety seemed to drain away for the first time in days. In front of the mirror, my senses seemed to take in all of the sounds, and images around me and then crystallized on a new feeling.

In my experimentation and exploration so far, I had only really ever worn panties. Now I wear them a lot, to work at home, when traveling on business. I had fantasized about wearing more, dreamed about more, masturbated to wanting more, but so far panties had been as far as I had gotten. Thanks to my "appointment" at the spa, for the very first time in public, I was dressed completely as a woman. This was a big step for me, my heart was beating so fast I worried that I would hyperventilate.

I had begun letting my hair grow; on my head that is, and although it was far too soon for anyone to really notice ... I knew. Conversely, I had shaved off the rest of my body completely smooth, to the point where the smoothness of my panties and skin moving against my rough men's clothing made it very difficult for me to fully concentrate throughout my workdays.

Wearing panties and men's clothing the feeling had been incredible, now completely wearing woman's clothing for the first time, in public, and passing as a woman ... the erotic sense of excitement was multiplied tenfold. The softer and much sexier clothes I wore now, were like a revelation. My entire body seemed to constantly tingle with excitement.

All of my previous adventures with virtually no chance of an accidental discovery; all seemed trite compared to this. Brooke had been right again.

Looking in the mirror, I didn't recognize who I was; although, pausing for a moment, maybe for the first time, I could really see myself for who I was.

To anyone around me, I looked like a woman, people smiled, and I noticed a few lingering glances, like the ones I had sometimes given attractive women myself. The electricity I had felt before now buzzed and crackled through every one of my nerves. Fully dressed, including a very sexy lace bra and matching panties; I was both excited and scared out of my mind. As I moved the soft material of my lacey bra and matching panties moved against my smooth skin. It was everything I could do to stifle a whimper from my throat.

I hadn't felt this way since I had been with Liz.

I was very aware of the denim moving against my smooth legs, the tightness of the boots, and how awkward I moved in the heels, only the constant tightness of the Spanx hiding and restraining my cock and balls reminded me I wasn't what I appeared to be, or what I increasingly wanted to be.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator alcove into the busy lobby. I held my breath again, but nobody seemed to care, except for a few glances and overheard whispers about my ass.

I could hear Brooke seem to say to me, "For the next few hours, you are Rebecca, but like Cinderella, your appearance, or the spell if you will, will not last for long."

I believed I could hear her voice whispering in my ear, "You look incredible, enjoy it, get a real taste of it, you have earned this, and this is just a tiny peek of what is to come for you."

I thought of our last session. The memory before heading to the airport was so sharp, so clear like it had been only a few minutes ago, rather than the week it had actually been.

I remembered the smile on her face and how her eyes sparkled as I got ready to leave her office. I could see the light sheen of moisture on her lips and sensed an excitement about her that was gradually increasing with each visit I made to her office. I remembered us being very close, looking into her eyes, and then I remembered how her lips felt on mine as she kissed me, deep, long, and fully; not stopping seemingly forever.

When we did stop, I was shocked, Brooke was supposed to be helping me rebuild my marriage to Cheryl. I was confused, Brooke just smiled and kissed me again, this time using her tongue.

Then sensing my internal conflict, "Don't look so surprised, if it makes you feel better, I have kissed Cheryl like this too."

Brooke could have knocked me over with a feather, from how amazing the kiss was, and by the admission she had done the same to my wife. That moment had opened floodgates of emotion and desire that had accelerated me to this point.

"Are you alright?" a voice startled me breaking my connection to that memory.

Someone had gotten off the other elevator and had noticed me seeming to just be staring into the mirror.

"Thank you," I said, "Just lost thinking," I smiled and said quietly, trying hard to disguise my normal voice.

The woman who belonged to the voice just smiled, stepped around me, and continued into the lobby.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my hips, and stepped into the lobby.

---

Somehow Brooke had managed to get Cheryl talking.

Cheryl admitted that she didn't know why she lacked interest in having sex with me.

"Do you not find him attractive?" Brooke asked as objectively as she could.

"I do, he's handsome and a very attractive person, he keeps himself in good shape, he has a good job, he has been a great father, he cares, I just don't know what the problem is?"

Brooke took a better approach this time, she told me later. In those first few sessions, she pushed too hard. This time Cheryl finally seemed open to discussing her life, her frustrations, the things that excited her and didn't excite her; apparently even really good therapists can misread the signs.

Brooke remembered the question, "Cheryl, do you think you're not attracted to Richard because secretly you find women to be what turns you on?"

"It was too early," Brooke later admitted. Cheryl walked out and didn't return for almost two months.

Cheryl didn't really understand why she needed to see Brooke. After all, I was the one who had cheated, I was the one who wasn't sexually satisfied; so why did she have to answer questions in therapy? She complained to me that Dr. Richard was constantly asking her extremely personal questions about their sex lives, things that she had done in college, about oral sex, even anal sex. Cheryl wouldn't even talk to me about those things, much less someone who wasn't even her doctor.

I had always known Cheryl kept everything bottled up inside her, Brooke revealed later that she could tell the first time she met Cheryl.

Her middle-class upbringing was not typical of the 1980s, it was more like the 1950s in small-town Texas. It wasn't until we got married that she stopped being in the choir at church. My mother-in-law told Cheryl and her sisters repeatedly, "Sex is only for making babies," and sex education in her high school was non-existent. Brooke told me Cheryl was carrying around a lot of baggage.

Brooke's questioning only got her more and more frustrated; at me, at Brooke herself, at Liz, and surprisingly at her own deeply repressed feelings. In one of our frequent arguments, she yelled at me that Brooke was "On my side" and that she and I were ganging up on her. Brooke said when she asked Cheryl to talk about her sexual desires and her attraction to me, she initially gave very short answers, almost defensively, especially when she was asked about why Liz would have excited me.

Before asking her if she liked women, Brooke had asked Cheryl about orgasms and masturbation, Cheryl told her it was none of her business and what did this have to do with "fixing me." When Brooke persisted and asked her if she maybe was attracted to women, Cheryl completely lost it.

"Do you think I'm a goddamn lesbian, that I like women, and that my asshole husband cheated on me because I want women?" she fumed before swearing at her and storming out of the office saying, "You sleep with him, I want a divorce."

Cheryl said she "went for a drive" to settle down. This wasn't the first time Cheryl left, she later said she had driven four hundred miles before she eventually got a motel room for the night, alone.

It wouldn't be the last time; I knew better than to bring up Brooke's name again for a while.

Looking back; Brooke's plan seems so obvious now, but I never connected her dots. I was just trying to stay out of Cheryl's line of fire.

----

That I was having a dream, I was certain, well mostly.

Usually in a dream you can wake up, I actually remember trying to wake up but I couldn't. Where I was, I have no idea. When I was seemed to be at night. I also knew that I wasn't alone.

I was almost pitch dark, what I was feeling was familiar but the perspective seemed out of sorts. I was having trouble focusing, almost like I had been drinking. I could feel a hand holding a clump of my hair. The hand was very large and calloused. My hair seemed longer because the hand was able to hold enough of it to keep me from moving. I also realized I was kneeling or resting on my knees.

I could detect the faint scent of cologne, the sound of someone else breathing, as well as the pounding of my own heart. Who, when, why, and how I wasn't sure of, but I knew instinctively what was happening and I felt the pressure on my hair increase as I felt some warm and wet drip into my mouth.

The other person was very close to me. The liquid tasted vaguely salty and had a kind of stringy, elastic feel to it. I felt a few more drops and then I didn't have any time to think about what was happening next. Something warm, wide, and large pushed over my lips and then against the sides of my mouth.

It was warm and smooth, I could feel a sound or hear a sound like a rhythmic drum, very slight ... a heartbeat. The sides of it rubbed against the sides of my mouth. With my tongue, I could feel raised veins and taut skin. I used my tongue to lick and felt myself using my mouth to suck it.

If this was a dream, it was like no other dream I had ever had before. With instant clarity I realized I was sucking on a cock; I could feel the balls brushing up against my face.

"Holy Shit," I thought, then I heard a voice say, "That's right, suck my cock bitch," and that grip on my hair tightened even more.

I knew what I liked and found myself copying what Liz used to do to me. Later, thinking about it, I wondered why I didn't try to stop sucking.

Instead of relying on whoever this was to provide motion, like Liz I took the initiative, using my mouth like a warm pussy and moving up and down the shaft. All the while using my fingers and hands to gently and lightly touch and caress whatever was in reach. The breathing became raspier and I felt myself being pulled even closer to the man whose cock I had deep in my mouth.

I used my tongue to probe the opening on its rounded end, then like an ice cream I spiraled around the shaft until I came to the base. Moving lower, I felt and tasted one of the balls, taking it into my mouth, careful to only provide pleasure my mouth and tongue enveloped it while my fingers ran up the path from the base of the cock up to and around the rim of his rosebud.

Moving up, I pushed the tip deep into my mouth, feeling it push against the back of my mouth I let him fuck my face, moving in and out of my mouth, using my cheeks to make the friction even more intense. I could feel tremors building slowly as he said a stream of vowels and consonants that made no sense other than that he was enjoying my first-ever blowjob.

Taking a moment to coat one finger with my saliva as he slid almost all of the way out of my mouth and just before he plunged back into my face, I used that finger to circle his rim and then push gently into him. The tremors in his body rumbled more frequently and increased in size as he yanked on my hair almost so hard that he forced my mouth from his cock, almost.

How long we did this seemed endless, he didn't want me to stop, and I didn't either. Then finally his entire body groaned and I felt the hot cum shoot into my mouth. He gripped my head, one hand binding my hair, the other using me for support as his body continued to shake and be rigid at the same time.

Most of the sticky hot cum fired straight down my throat. More coated the inside of my mouth and a little surged and leaked out of my lips. All the while my finger silently moved in and out of his ass. I swallowed at least twice as he left himself still inside my mouth. Slowly he put more pressure on his feet and very slowly pulled himself out of my mouth, but not before I licked the rest of his cum from his shrinking cock.

My mouth felt a little numb as I licked my own lips, still tasting the tanginess of his cum. The sound of his breathing faded as did the sensations of what I had just done. Soon all I was aware of was the quiet, and then just blackness.

It had been so vivid when I opened my eyes again, it was morning and I was in the spare room downstairs. Later, Brooke repeatedly asked me questions about what I remembered. I told her so many times, I started believing it was real. When I asked her what it meant she just laughed.

"It could mean lots of things," then seeing the concern on my face, she said softly.

"It is only natural that you are curious about your sexuality," then when she noticed that I looked even more anxious.

"Listen, you like sex," now she looked at me from only a few inches from my face, "I like sex too, and I like sex with men as well as women, just because you have only experienced sex with women, doesn't mean you can't wonder about sex with men, okay?"

There was silence, she leaned across and gave me a warm, but friendly kiss on my lips. I could feel my heart begin to race.

"Try not to worry, just enjoy, there is nothing wrong with you."

---

Long before I dreamed about giving someone a blow job, especially after Cheryl exploded with Brooke, my life seemed to be at a very low point.

When Cheryl discovered I was shaving my body I slept in the basement for a few weeks as a result.

After almost two days of silence, she asked me, "Why would a fully grown man, want to be hairless?" It took me several more days to convince her that many men, were smooth and that lots of women found it very sexy. I didn't think she believed me at the time, but I did happen to find a couple of pictures she had left open on her laptop one night of men shaved, so many there was hope yet.

She hadn't noticed my hair yet but with each passing week, I was certainly aware of it. In those early months, she never really made the connection about my activities.

Had she really wondered about why I was helping with our laundry now, maybe she might have tried to catch me wearing panties, but at that time, she was oblivious.

It was in our second or third session after Cheryl had stormed out that Brooke asked me a question that I had been thinking about for quite a while.

"Richard, have you ever thought about wanting to become a woman?" She asked me the question as calmly as if she was asking me if it was raining. There was no smirk on her face, she was calm and interested, and her deep eyes seemed to sparkle.

Although she would say I avoided the question, I would argue that I needed more context at that time. Eventually, we discussed my feelings, but it took several sessions before I finally could talk to her about fully answering her question.

I think everyone at some time in their lives, wondered what it might be like to switch sexes. Our conversations about my father, my clothes, and my brush cuts seemed to open a door to a flood of memories I had suppressed and honestly totally forgotten about.

I remember now, for most of my young life being envious of women's fashions, bold colors, and styles women could wear, while I found men's clothes boring and conservative. I loved how women could reveal their bodies through clothing, as far back as I could remember I secretly loved certain clothes, how soft it was, how they felt next to my skin, and how sexy it was.

Then came the day my father had enough and the door slammed shut on any thoughts or explorations of being female.

I also remembered seeing how growing my classmates, teachers, and our society in Texas and many other places considered any thought of being the "wrong sex" to be a perversion and unnatural. I knew if they knew they would think I was a freak, an abomination. Even now, even with Brooke's "permission" when I ordered some panties online from Amazon those attitudes still haunted and shamed me despite the comfort, relaxation, and desire they brought me.

I wore them for a full night when I was sleeping in the basement. They felt so right and I soon found I would always sleep through the night when I wore panties. With my smooth body and those amazing panties, not only did I feel at ease, but I also constantly masturbated and fanaticized when wearing them.

I could clearly only do this when my wife was gone and my daughters were away. While I didn't get too many opportunities at home, as I started to travel more for business, I began wearing them to work and twenty-four a day on the road.

More than once because of guilt and societal expectations of what I was doing and how I was feeling, I was so ashamed that I threw everything away and was even more depressed. Brooke became quite adept at getting to me come around and several times even surprised me with replacement pairs she said were "prescription panties."

As much progress as she said I was making, there were lots of times she was the only one who thought I was.

One day during our session, she used the word "transgender" to describe me. Transgender wasn't even a word I thought of for myself. In discarding my panties another time a few days prior, I thought I could stop the feelings and desires, soon though I realized that was the farthest from the truth and it was only a few hours later I was buying even more replacements.

I suspect Brooke knew long before she asked the question. It took me longer to admit to myself ... that I desired a full transition. I knew I wanted to be a woman.

---

Transitioning seemed impossible, given my circumstances. I was married and had two teenage daughters. I lived in Texas, not a place that was very understanding of transgender people. While my family was not necessarily homophobic, I knew they were more liberal with "other people's" struggles than any that happened under "their roof." What would Cheryl, my wife think?