I Want You Inside Me ...

Hell, she lost her mind when I shaved my body, I could only imagine if my balls and cock were gone as well, I would lose everything and be disowned by everyone.

Despite my turmoil and doubts, I didn't stop, I couldn't.

I kept it hidden, away from everyone, I limited my cross-dressing just to panties, although my desire for other clothes was becoming harder to deny. In between those pangs of guilt and shame by wearing panties, my depression symptoms seemed to disappear at least partially the more frequently I indulged myself.

A faint flicker of hope persisted against everything stacked against it ever happening, that little spark was all the hope I had. In those times when I wore those panties, a little makeup, with my shaved body, it was enough for me to dream of what might be.

Inevitably though the guilt would overwhelm me, and my depression and hopelessness would return. It's cliché to say I was living a lie but in reality, I knew what I wanted, it was the reality of my life that made what I wanted unreachable.

When I finally told Brooke, "Yes, I want to a be woman, but I can't, I would let too many people down, I would be alone, ostracized, and disowned, losing my job and my family," she smiled. I argued, "I can't do this to them, I should just accept my sex, cut my hair, and forget all of this."

She sat, quiet, for the longest time, then said in a quiet, but with remarkable clarity, "What you need to do, is go to Seattle," and she started to write a prescription.

----

Before Seattle though, disaster happened.

"Whose are these?"

Cheryl held up a pair of noticeably damp panties.

She was not happy.

That they were not hers was obvious. Cheryl wore panties like her mom did. Functional, utilitarian, anonymous. I knew without looking these were silky, sexy, and almost not there.

Her anger was palpable. I don't think I had ever seen her this upset. There was nowhere to go.

"Are you having another affair, are you fucking that bitch, Liz, again, you fucking lying bastard?"

I had seconds to say something, otherwise, my marriage and life as I knew it would be well and truly finished, her eyes bored right through me like a laser, and I am sure the wall behind me was scorched.

The seconds felt like hours. I knew I had to say something. My mind raced in circles. How I had missed picking them up when I cleaned up about 30 minutes before she arrived. I was usually so careful.

She held them in her hands, showing me the silk with lace, very sexy, there was still damp cum soaking them, they smelled like sex, they were wet, and she knew it, there was no hiding the truth.

Time seemed to have stopped, I had to say something, but I was afraid, afraid of her reaction, afraid to tell the truth, afraid to lie, afraid of what was going to happen either way.

I could feel my heart beating and pounding.

I swear I could hear the clock ticking.

"They're mine."

I had spoken with a remarkably strong voice that totally contrasted how I really felt, I felt like a person struggling for balance on the edge of an abyss.

Maybe if Cheryl hadn't stopped her sessions with Brooke ... Dr. Richards, I would have told her by now. Her anger at me shaving and seeming unwillingness to even hear Brooke out had stonewalled me revealing this to her.

Her earlier reaction to my "manscaping" had only reinforced my reluctance to share yet another one of my "needs" with her.

Now there was just silence, I was still sweating, my heart palpating, I actually would prefer more screaming than this. She just stared at me.

Brooke knew. It had been difficult to tell her, but nowhere near as difficult as this. Brooke knew everything about my affair, my life, and my desires, and actually supported me to shave, grow out my hair, and even wear women's panties; not to mention listen to me in graphic detail talk about giving someone a blowjob and swallowing their cum.

Now Cheryl knew about the panties, Cheryl was not Brooke.

I could feel her emotions and temperature rising.

More silence.

The eruption never came, what happened was far worse. Cheryl threw the panties at me, turned, and left the room.

I heard her stomp down the stairs, open and slam the door, heard the car engine start, and listened to it leave and disappear away from our home.

I stood there in shock, embarrassment, and despair.

I stood there, alone, unmoving for maybe thirty minutes.

Finally, my thoughts returned, the first was, "How could I have been so stupid."

This did not help.

It simply piled blame onto the shame I felt for feeling for being the way I am.

I told myself I had intended for her to know, at some point anyway. How do you tell someone something you know they won't handle well. How do you protect them and still express yourself? I had no idea.

I knew she would react this way. Why hadn't I done the room check like I always did after masturbating? I had been doing it more often than likely what should have been "normal."

The sessions with Brooke encouraged my desire to explore, my life with Cheryl was being constantly threatened by the truths I was starting to acknowledge.

Liz and I must have been oversexed, because now as an undersexed person, I could hardly stand it. I needed to do what I was doing. I didn't want to hurt Cheryl, I wanted her to understand.

In an attempt to stay sane, I had been wearing and masturbating in panties sometimes several times a day.

Embracing my now smooth body, thinking about my growing hair, and wearing panties virtually all of the time, I could actually envision myself as a woman, even the basic thought of that was enough to make me cum within minutes of touching myself wherever in the house I found myself.

My feelings weren't just sexual. I could see myself as a woman, the signs and symptoms of my depression, at least temporarily seemed to almost disappear when I acted out my desires; only to reappear when I re-assumed my disguise as Richard.

We had even made some progress. Cheryl and I had even had sex once, a few days ago. It had been like before, very short, very vanilla; but I had noticed in the past week there had been some "loosing" of what she allowed me to try, including some petting and she had even given me a blowjob. She had actually commented about how nice and smooth I was.

Tonight, had begun very hopeful. The guilt and shame were crushing. Usually, I had plenty of time, she was away with her friends for their weekly "girl's night," I had satisfied my desires, and my needs, cleaned up, I thought, and was ready for, what I had hoped was a late-night sex time with her. All ruined because I had not bothered to double-check and had left my panties on our bedroom floor. I was stupid and blind.

I replayed in my mind what had happened, the night had been our best night in forever, I had kissed her goodbye after supper, it had been almost a passionate kiss, like those from when we were first married, long before Liz, long before we had grown apart. Then our kissing was deep, intense, and involved tongues, lips, and more than a little heavy petting. Tonight, she hadn't even complained about me messing up her makeup, or of my rubbing of her crotch forcing her panties into her pussy, she had just moaned and whimpered and ground herself into my hand with the promise of more when she returned.

I didn't know what had changed to make Cheryl interested in sex with me, I knew it wasn't like the sex Liz and I had expended so much passion with, but I was happy just that she was even a little interested.

What I didn't know was that she had resumed meeting with Brooke, she told Brooke she would only continue their sessions if Brooke kept the secret from me.

Even though there was the promise of sex, even vanilla sex with Cheryl, my own desires could not be contained. My needs were for so much more than I could even contain.

As soon as she was out the door I started undressing, I was naked before her taillights disappeared down the street. I almost ran down the stairs to my hiding spot. I hadn't closed our curtains and the darkness reflected my naked body in the window. I was a little less than average height, thin but toned, I should have been concerned that if I could see my reflection, anyone outside could see me naked, but I wasn't.

From a distance, a stranger might have wondered if my form were male or female, up close it would be obvious, from a distance, they might wonder, the thought only fueled my desires and need for acting them out. For a few hours at least I could satisfy my need, my hunger.

Cheryl seemed to have finally adjusted to me shaving all of my body hair. For me, the thrill of being smooth was intoxicating, the feel and friction of my clothes against my skin was almost the most erotic feeling I had ever encountered.

There had been some whispers about my shaved legs, or chest when I was swimming, and more than once there had been some snickers and sideways looks in the communal showers in the gym or at the pool, but mostly it had been a non-issue. I was past caring anyway.

I was thinking about earlier as I pulled up the panties. I had gotten better at the sizing; they fit nicely and my eyes fluttered as my smooth skin rubbed up against the soft fabric. I reached into my bag and took out some makeup, I wasn't very good yet, but I applied just a little, my features were soft, and with just that little bit, I thought I would be possible to most people, maybe almost pretty, albeit totally flat. Clad just in my panties I slipped upstairs and ran to our bedroom and jumped on the bed.

---

Cheryl texted me four hours later. I hadn't moved more than six feet from where she left me.

"I have some questions for you." The tone of her text seemed emotionless and monotone.

"Okay," I replied.

I was just happy that one, she was okay, and two that she was talking to me, or at least texting.

Those four hours had been the longest of my life.

Cheryl was not subtle, this could be her greatest strength in the business world, but in our relationship, it always made me nervous. Her bluntness often cut me deep.

"Do you love me?" was the first question.

"Yes, without any doubt," I responded almost instantaneously. Point for me, I thought.

No response for several more minutes, I could almost picture her thinking.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

I didn't think things would improve unless I told her the truth. "I was afraid of your reaction."

There was a long pause.

So long I almost thought she wasn't there.

Finally, she texted, "Fair enough, I can understand that."

"Why do you shave your body?"

"I like how it feels, all my life I have hated my body, especially how hairy it was, this was something small, I could do, and after everything it was something that made me feel better." I paused.

"I know I should have talked to you more, but ..." I couldn't text what I wanted to say and my thoughts just hung there and then I hit send anyway.

Cheryl replied after a moment's pause, I could sense some signs of emotion, just slight, but she was talking to me at least.

"Dr. Richards had mentioned this to me," she paused and I let the emptiness hang, then she continued, "She said I should let you shave me ...," this time it was her texting that faded away.

I waited.

"Is that something you might like to try?" I asked holding my breath for about a minute.

"Maybe," maybe wasn't a no.

"I have another question, Rich, it is a difficult one, but I need to know."

"Okay, Cheryl, ask," my heart was in my throat.

It wasn't the question I expected, when I read it, I was kind of shocked, especially coming so soon after Brooke asked me the same question.

"Do you want to be a woman?"

A hundred thoughts flashed through my brain, the same ones I had spoken to Brooke about.

It took lots of typing, but I told Cheryl a similar explanation, I began with, I suppose everyone wonders what it would be like to be a different sex. It hadn't necessarily been something I had thought about.

Living in Texas, it was certainly not something that mainstream society here discussed and growing up the few gays and lesbians I had known had been usually singled out, exposed, and ridiculed mercilessly.

Brooke had been the only person I had managed to admit my truth to. Now that I had said it once, I had to admit, that yes not only did I have those urges to be female, but I realized my behaviors over the years actually demonstrated my desire.

Looking back at my life after almost forty years, I hadn't really done anything overt. There had been some deeply repressed lingering thoughts about my sexuality, I had always been envious of women and their bodies, and I had always been drawn to women in conversation and when doing outdoor activities.

Many times, when I was with Cheryl and even Liz, I imagined what it would be like to reverse bodies. As a father, husband, and executive, and having been brought up in the South, I would likely have had a better chance of walking on Mars than I would have had about becoming a trans woman.

All of those thoughts raced through my mind in what seemed like a pause of hours but in reality, was only a second or two. Then I answered her question.

"Yes."

I imagined I heard Cheryl take a deep breath.

"Do you expect me to become a lesbian?" There was no screaming, no slamming of the phone, although texting, really wasn't a possibility.

I didn't text anything.

"Rich?" are you there?"

I began to type, "Cheryl, I never thought I would ever get to the point where we would talk about this, I love you, I have been unhappy and unsatisfied for so long, I don't know, I guess that is what you have to decide, not me."

"That's what I thought too."

More silence.

"Where are you, Cheryl?" I asked finally, expecting her to say anywhere but where she was.

I heard the door open and she walked into our house. That would not be the only door that opened that night.

------

Cheryl thought this was a mistake.

She knew she was straight and it bothered her that Brooke had implied that she was a lesbian and that was why Richard cheated on her. She had thought of little else over the past few weeks. Originally, she was just going to let it go, fuck her, she could think what she wanted, the stupid bitch, all smug and so confident.

She waited on the elevator. Alone she glanced in the mirror. The reflection that looked back at her was a success. She was prospering in a world dominated by the "old boys," men as old as her father and just as condescending too, but she had made it. That strength, that rigidity, had shaped and made her successful ... sure there had been a cost. She looked at the reflection again.

While an attractive woman, she was all angles and muscles. She dressed conservatively. She didn't own anything that someone could describe as soft, feminine, or sexy. Yes, her bra matched her panties, but neither was anything that could be described as anything more than functional.

The little rebelliousness from her youth, the brief infatuation with rock music, the little makeup she wore, and the smiles, had left no trace in the person standing looking back at her.

Now she was taking the next step, she was working on her master's and would take another big step very soon. She was successful, she was someone to be admired. Right ...? Lost in her thoughts she almost ran right over Dr. Richards when she got off the elevator.

Dr. Brooke Richards, surprised her, she had never met her at the elevator before, had she been waiting for her or was it an accident? Yes, she had an appointment, but Cheryl was still surprised. It had been almost two months.

Brooke was everything Cheryl was not, no wonder Richard liked her she thought. Originally, Cheryl had thought Dr. Richards was just like her. When they first met, Dr. Richards was all business, she dressed like her, talked like her, and acted like her.

Efficient, independent, strong-willed, and conservative in manner and in dressing.

Something had happened. It was especially noticeable now after not seeing her for this long.

The woman who smiled and shook her hand wasn't the same. Yes, she sounded the same, the office was the same, but the woman was different.

Different, but Cheryl couldn't decide in a bad or a good way, just different.

Dr. Richards wore a dress with stylish shoes, her long hair was curled slightly, her makeup was just the right amount, and the dress was light, and colorful, and hinted at the curves and toned body that moved effortlessly beneath it. Cheryl was stunned by the transformation. The smile, the warmth, the handshake that transformed into a hug were almost overwhelming. Cheryl felt electricity in the air, it was unexpected but strangely not unwelcome.

Brooke talked but Cheryl didn't hear anything. The words and sounds were real, Cheryl couldn't comprehend them. Cheryl realized Brooke had stopped talking and was looking at her, waiting, Cheryl was lost, she had no idea what Brooke had said from the time they walked from the elevator until now.

The only things Cheryl could remember were the scent of Brooke's perfume, the deep blue pools of her eyes, the smooth curves of her body, and how the sunlight through the office windows backlit Brooke's dress revealing a silhouette that had completely captivated her. This had never happened to Cheryl, except maybe once and that was a lifetime ago, the feeling flooding her nervous system seemed vaguely familiar, but almost as if they were someone else's memories.

The feel of soft and very warm lips, the touch of hands and fingers on her arms, the closeness of breathing that accompanies intimate kissing, the flush of blood rushing to different parts of her body, the soft pressure of her nipples pressing into her bra, and that long forgotten moisture building heat between her thighs. She needed to focus but found she could not.

When Brooke started kissing her, touching her, she thought she should protest, but her body felt otherwise.

Thoughts of telling Brooke how offended she was by the accusation of being a lesbian seemed silly and almost instantly forgotten as Brooke's tongue invited itself into her mouth. Brooke's hands ran over the rough, almost woollike fabric of her very masculine business attire.

Cheryl felt buttons being undone, felt clothes falling away, felt those amazing lips and tongue as the kissing never stopped, Brooke seemed to have a dozen hands and sets of fingers and all were lighting her up as she had never felt before in her life.

Her body moaned and writhed as if it had a mind of its own like a prisoner finally freed after too long in a prison cell. Her boobs were free and the lips and tongue finally broke their seal to her lips she felt Brooke's hair and breathing move towards nipples that Cheryl thought might burst from the hardness she now felt.

Brooke's lips and mouth made Cheryl moan aloud, unashamedly as they circled, licked, sucked, and bit lightly against her hard nipples. Cheryl felt herself falling and then pressure on her back as she realized she was lying prone on top of Brooke's antique oak desk; she was vaguely aware of papers and other things falling away as the two of them made space for themselves.

She heard or rather felt the zipper and buttons on her business skirt coming loose and felt the rush of excitement as Brooke hooked her fingers around the waist of the skirt and pulled it away from her waist.

Lifting her hips to help Brooke brought a flood of emotions as she remembered someone else doing the same thing to her so long ago. A teacher in college, a favorite teacher, who showed her so much about herself, Brooke's suckling took her breath away and all memories instantly were replaced by the waves of pleasure that had been building quietly now overwhelmed her.