Oggbashan Stew Pt. 03

"A few doors down from the salon is the local Sex Shop. It's the only one in this half of the county. The owner, Mrs Holland, is converting a back room that was a store. She wants Paula to work there, as a stylist."

"But not a normal stylist?"

"Exactly, Ian. Paula is to work with transgender and transvestite clients to provide customised make-overs for private photo-shoots in the studio already at the Sex Shop."

"I'm not sure I like where this conversation is going, Sonia."

"Paula needs to practice before she can do paid-for makeovers..."

Sonia put a finger across my lips to stop my protest.

"She would come here, to our flat. Only she and I would see what she does. You might even enjoy it. Even if you don't, I'll make sure the reward you get from me makes it worthwhile."

"You know I'd find that sort of reward irresistible."

"I know. I don't want you to do something unpleasant or that you can't face doing. It could be embarrassing, awkward, but that's all. Please? For Paula? And for me?"

"OK, Sonia. I'll try. When does Paula want to start?"

"This weekend."

"This weekend? But we were going out on Sunday."

"The weather forecast isn't good. It's supposed to rain from Friday afternoon until Monday at least. We could go out another Sunday. OK?"

"Yes, Sonia. You can tell Paula I'll give it a go."

Sonia texted Paula seconds later, a few words.

+++

That evening Sonia started her reward for my cooperation. Once we were in the bedroom she put me into a padded bra, added silky panties, a waist girdle, slip, stockings held up with a suspender belt, and a sheath dress ending just above my knees.

Once I was on the bed she tied my ankles and knees with silk scarves, and fed pairs of pantyhose around my back before tying my wrists and arms by my sides. I could wriggle but I couldn't get out of those restraints.

I watched Sonia strip slowly before she put on a satin nightdress. Out of my sight she stuffed some items under the pillow before she straddled me. Her hands stroked my head. She brought her satin-covered breasts down to slid them across my chest and up over my face. As she pulled back she ordered:

"Mouth open!"

From under the pillow she retrieved her panties and stuffed them into my mouth. She wrapped a long silk scarf several times around my head before knotting it over my lips.

"You know the safe signal," she said as she reached under the pillow again.

She hooded me with her waist slip before pulling a black stocking over my whole head. I was breathing her perfume as she moved downwards and lifted the skirt of the dress I was wearing. She eased my erection out of the silky panties before slowly sliding her hand up and down. I could just see her through the slip and stocking wrapping my head. It was still a surprise when she fed my erection into her waiting cleft. She thrust down hard several times before taking her nightdress off. As I came closer and closer to being unable to hold on any longer she poised that satin nightdress above my face.

Suddenly her hands pressed the nightdress down hard, tightening it over my head. I came into her uncontrollably as she clamped herself around me.

A minute or so later Sonia had put her night dress back on, taken the stocking and slip off my head, and was removing the scarf holding her panties in my mouth. She pulled the panties out and threw them aside.

"You can breathe now, but I'm not letting you escape," she said. "I want more of you later. Relax and enjoy your surrender."

Sonia pulled my head to rest against her breasts. We went to sleep with me helplessly bundled up in women's clothing and gently hugged to Sonia's satin-covered breasts.

Several hours later we made love again. This time I was able to restrain myself sufficiently until Sonia had had several orgasms. During the last one she smothered me with the slip and nightdress wrapped and twisted around my head until I came as well. After that, Sonia relented, releasing my arms and legs. I was still cross-dressed, but able to leave the bed and remove the clothing if I wanted to. I preferred to stay like that all night.

In the morning I woke up to find that Sonia was already downstairs. I stripped, shaved, showered, and dressed myself as a man for the office.

All that day I enjoyed remembering Sonia's reward, particularly as she had promised me more after Paula's practice work.

+++

Paula arrived with a large bag slung over her shoulder and a wheeled suitcase. I took the bag from her and put it down. I was about to pick up the suitcase when Paula grabbed me, pulled me into a hug followed by a long kiss. I could see Sonia looking amused.

"You're borrowing him, Paula, but..." Sonia said.

Paula pulled her lips from mine.

"But I've got to say thank you..."

"He hasn't done anything yet."

"He has. He agreed and so did you. That means a lot to me."

"Tea or coffee first?"

"Yes please, Sonia. I haven't had anything since breakfast. Tea would be good."

We went through to our large kitchen. Sonia had already pulled down the roller blind over the window. No one could see in from outside but as the window faced the back garden it would have been unlikely that we could be seen from the houses at the back. I appreciated the privacy. I didn't think I minded Paula knowing I enjoyed dressing in women's clothes but I didn't want the neighbours to find out. When we hung the washing out my dressing up clothes could be Sonia's. They were slightly larger but without examining the labels the difference wasn't obvious.

+++

Story 048

Pregnancy

+++

At the Birth

Four and a half years after my experiences with Maureen's ante-natal class that I narrated in Breast Feeding Class, we had a daughter and another child on the way.

I had been present when Maureen gave birth to our daughter Sarah. I would be there for her during the next birth due in about five weeks.

Even so I was surprised when Maureen announced that Hazel, the instructor at the ante-natal and breastfeeding class, had rung her with a request. I wasn't sure what to say. I had been humiliated by the whole class and by Geraldine, Maureen's sister in law. I had deserved it but my memories of it were mixed. Even now several women in the town gave me conspiratorial looks when we met. They knew we shared something their husbands didn't know about. It could be embarrassing if people knew that I had sucked the breasts of several friends' wives.

"Hazel wants your help, Brian," said Maureen as she put the telephone down.

She was sitting on an upright chair by the dining room table. She found it comfortable for a while as a change from the settee where I was sprawled watching football.

"Me? Why me? I would have thought that I had been enough of a nuisance to her that she'd rather forget me."

"Maybe, but we did get back at you, very effectively. She hopes you will forgive, forget and help. Will you, please?"

Maureen looked at me. I always fall for that sort of look. It means she really wants something from me. Even so I was feeling threatened and needed to be cautious.

"What exactly does she want?"

"She wants you to talk to her current class about the experience of being there at the birth, from the husband's point of view."

"To talk to the class? NOT to the husbands?"

"Yes. Hazel wants the women to understand how their men feel without having to mind their Ps and Qs as they would have to if their husbands were present. I think she intends a question and answer session more than a talk. Could you?"

"What would I talk about?"

"About the unpleasant side - from your perspective. About the feeling of incompetence and inability to assist. About your jealousy of the baby. All the things that we talked about before and after Sarah was born."

"Oh."

I sat and thought. We had discussed all those things. It had been difficult to be present at the birth in many ways. The jealousy? That had been real enough. If Maureen and I hadn't loved and understood each other so much it could have been very nasty. Perhaps I could help Hazel's class.

I stood up and walked across to her. I bent over and kissed her on the top of her head.

"If you think it is a good idea, and you want me to, I'll do it. Do you?"

Maureen swivelled around so she was facing me.

"Yes, Brian. I think it will be good for them and perhaps for you as well. You'll be with me for another birth soon. You know I want you there. But I'll reward you for going to the class."

"You will? How? You are too large to do much in the way of reward, aren't you?"

"Not too large for everything. Kneel down."

I knelt beside her chair. She spread her legs before pulling my head in to her cleavage. She wrapped her arms around me as I breathed her perfume and drowned between her soft breasts. Her head came down on mine and pushed me deeper. She rocked me gently as I snuggled into her. She was right. There were ways she could reward me.

After a few minutes she relaxed her hold, keeping my head resting against a breast.

"I'll ring Hazel back," she said.

I felt the vibration as she spoke. I leaned closer to her as she dialled Hazel.

"Hello Hazel, it's Maureen"

I didn't hear Hazel.

"Brian's agreed to do it. When do you want him to come?"

Another silence. Maureen's breathing and heartbeat filled my ears.

"OK. I'll send him along tomorrow at eight. Bye."

She put the telephone down then hugged me tightly again. I luxuriated in the depths of her cleavage while I could breathe - which wasn't long. I had to extricate my head and pant hard to get my breath back. Maureen was smiling down at me. She knew she'd been suffocating me with her breasts and that I enjoyed it when she did.

+++

The following evening I was driving the familiar route to Hazel's house. I was nervous about the reception I might get. The class members were unlikely to be the same as those who had humiliated and breastfed me before our daughter Sarah was born. I was still likely to know all of them because our community is so small.

I rang Hazel's doorbell. She opened the door to me. Before I could say a word she kissed me full on the lips. Hazel is still an attractive woman if a decade older than me. I reacted by kissing her back. The reaction between my legs was obvious as it pressed against her skirt.

"Why do I deserve such a reception?" I asked when I could.

"Because. Because no other father would, because you could be uncomfortable coming back here, because I need you..."

Hazel kissed me again, briefly this time. I followed her into the familiar large living room. There were four heavily pregnant women sitting in armchairs.

"I'll introduce you," Hazel said. "This is Brian who came to previous sessions of this class."

"Hello Brian, I'm Ruth," One of the women said.

"I'm Janet,"

"I'm Gina,"

"And I'm Therese, but we know who you are, and you know us, don't you, Brian?"

"Yes, Therese, I do. That doesn't make it easier for me."

"What you say, Brian, will remain in this room," Hazel said." It won't be shared with anyone else. OK?"

The four women nodded.

"Please sit there, Brian," Hazel asked.

That armchair was facing the four women.

"Do you want to start by telling your experience, Brian, or would you prefer just to answer questions?

"I'll talk a little first, Hazel. I should start by why I'm here. I came because my wife Maureen asked me to help Hazel. I was and am reluctant because it will be awkward and possibly embarrassing for me. It was one of the things that I knew Maureen really wanted to do."

"Can you tell us why it is awkward, Brian?" Gina asked.

"Men don't like talking about feelings. That's one reason. The other is that being present at the birth of our daughter Sarah was painful for me."

I held up my hand to stop the obvious rejoinders.

"As a husband I expect to defend and protect my wife against anything. You may think that sexist but Maureen would do the same for me. We are partners standing side by side, together. When Maureen was in the latter stages of labour she was hurting, in obvious pain. I couldn't do anything about her pain. I felt that I was failing her. I was helpless, incapable of relieving her pain, and frustrated by my inability.

You are aware of the transition stage of labour..."

There were nods.

"You might not experience it but if you do it can be hard on your husband. Maureen wanted to get off the bed, go home, stop having the baby, and she blamed me for getting her pregnant. She cursed me, regretted marrying me, didn't want MY baby, it was all my fault, and why didn't I just fuck off and get lost. She said she didn't need me gloating about her pain.

She didn't mean any of it. I had come to these classes and I knew that the transition stage was probable and what might happen. Knowing that Maureen was in transition helped me to cope. Even so, some of the things she said hurt. I knew she didn't mean them. I was already appalled by what Maureen was suffering. Her rejection of me, and of our baby, although untrue, were like severe cuts into our love for each other.

Maureen was aware that she was in transition. She even told me she was. Although she knew that she couldn't stop herself lashing out verbally. Days later she told me that at the time she thought she was two people at once, the Maureen who loved me and wanted our baby, and the Maureen who wanted the whole process of birth to stop, go away and be forgotten. She could hear herself cursing me while knowing it wasn't what she really felt."

I stopped talking because Hazel had held up a hand.

"Transition doesn't always happen," Hazel said, "and even if it does Maureen's experience might not be typical. How long did it last, Brian?"

"About twenty minutes but at the time it seemed to go on forever. Maureen was distressed. I was upset because I couldn't help her as I had done earlier, and because she kept telling me to go away. If I had? Maureen would have been on her own. That would have been worse for both of us. The midwives were busy with other births. Someone put her head around the door every five minutes or so but that was it. Without me Maureen would have had to have endured transition on her own.

The least I could have done for Maureen was fetch a midwife if the birth looked imminent. It wasn't. Maureen needed to dilate significantly first. I kept checking. Maureen abused me for staring at her private parts even though she knew what I was doing and why."

"Brian?" Therese interrupted, "We are aware of transition and what might happen, but could you start much further back?"

"Please make sure your husbands are prepared for transition too," I said, "It can be worrying for them. How much further back, Therese?"

"When did you and Maureen decide you were going to have children?" Therese asked.

"Before we became engaged. Even before we were really together as a possible couple. It was important to both of us. Maureen's then recent boyfriend wasn't willing to consider that marriage might lead to children. He had been stalling for months until Maureen's patience ran out. She had dumped him a couple of weeks before Maureen and I started a relationship. It was almost the first serious discussion between us. If we became more than friends, and might marry, would I want children? I was startled to be put on the spot that early in a very new relationship. But I said IF we married, the purpose of marriage was to have children and become a family. If I hadn't said that, Maureen made it very clear that we would no longer be boyfriend and girlfriend.

Later, before we became engaged, we discussed when after we married would we start to try for a baby. We agreed a minimum of a year because once we married and set up home our finances would need at least that long to recover. We had a very simple wedding and used the money our parents might have spent on a larger wedding on a deposit for our house.

+++

Story 049

Puncture

That Thursday evening I was sitting in my living room savouring a glass of red Burgundy and listening to CD of Mozart after a satisfying self-cooked meal when the telephone rang.

I pressed the pause button on the remote before crossing the room to pick up the phone.

"Hello. Colin here." I said.

"Colin? It's Helen. You know. Helen from the conference."

"Yes, Helen," I replied slowly, "I know who you are. This is unexpected. What can I do for you?"

My thoughts and pulse were racing. I had fancied Helen at last month's conference. We had chatted in the breaks between presentations and co-operated in a working group. I had wanted to take things further but I felt a reserve, as if Helen had some unfinished business or a relationship that was still current. Although I'm not shy with women I had been reluctant to press Helen. I had sensed that she wasn't ready for anything.

I needed to play this carefully. An approach from Helen was intriguing. If this phone call went well...

"I hope you can help me, Colin. My car's got a puncture. Normally I'd change the wheel myself, but the wheel nuts are stuck. I'm not far away..."

I had been drinking. The glass I was still holding was the last of a whole bottle. There was no way I could drive.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the crossroads at the end of your street. Could you?"

"Of course, Helen. I'll be walking. I've had a few glasses of wine. See you in a couple of minutes. OK?"

"Thanks, Colin. See you soon."

I put on an old anorak over my shirt, went out to my car and took the wheel spider from among the tools. I drive older cars because my work takes me into rough areas. An older car is inconspicuous and less likely to be stolen. The downside is the need for some tools to repair the car.

A few yards down the road I could see Helen standing beside her car. She had parked just inside my road under a street light. The car was already jacked up and the spare was resting against the lamppost.

"Hello, Helen," I said. "It looks as if you nearly succeeded. Why didn't you call me as soon as you had the puncture instead of only when you couldn't undo the wheelnuts?"

"I didn't want to bother you..."

"It's no bother," I interrupted as I squatted down and started loosening the nuts that moved easily with the extra leverage the spider gives.

"...and I remembered that you said you have a drink on Friday evenings to wind down after the week..."

"...and you thought that meant I'd be plastered?" I asked jokingly. A bottle of wine makes me relaxed, no more. I would never drive after that much, but most of my faculties still work. I sensed that there was something tense about Helen.

"I'm pleasantly unwound, that's all. I don't get drunk. I don't drive after drinking either. If you had been further away I'd have come by taxi."

Helen visibly slumped.

"It's just..."

I had a flash of memory. Helen had been fiercely against drinking at work. Had there been unfortunate experiences with a drunk colleague? Or had a relationship foundered on alcohol? My main role at the conference had been to run a class on how to deal with violent Social Services clients. Did she need me to mend a puncture or for something worse?

I removed the punctured wheel. A glance at the tyre showed it to be beyond repair. I positioned the spare and started fitting the nuts on the studs.

"Where were you going?" I asked idly. "Anywhere that has a time factor?"

"No, Colin. I'd been to a meeting of trustees in the town centre. I was driving back this way out of curiosity. I wanted to know whether your description was accurate. It wasn't far off route but when I had a puncture I was in unfamiliar country."

"And some of the locals looked threatening?" I suggested.

"No. The few I saw seemed more pathetic than a threat."

"They would be, this early in the evening. The hard lads come out much later but even they avoid this street. There are three police families, and me. The lads don't want the sort of trouble the families can give."