Outed By Ebay

I've been an opportunity crossdresser since I was a child. By the term opportunity crossdresser, I mean whenever there was an opportunity to dress in women's clothes, I did. As a child, and later as a teen living in my parent's home, it was difficult. In college, living in a dorm, it was near impossible. The only time of my life when I had free reign was after graduation, when I was single and living on my own. But even then I had to hide my clothes from girlfriends who passed through my life for varying lengths of time. Now I'm married with no opportunity to dress at home. However, I'm lucky because I travel for work and when I'm on the road it's for extended periods. I can acquire outfits in whatever city I'm working in but I always have to dispose of them when it's time to head home.

Over the last ten years I've found my high heels, corsets, stockings, and dresses mostly at Goodwill stores. When I was able to get up the nerve, I shopped at department stores or small lingerie shops, pretending I wanted the sexy outfits for a girlfriend. But now, thank god, there's Ebay.

Ebay has made it possible to buy nearly every type of outfit, no mater how exotic, with zero embarrassment. Finding extra large sizes is no problem and everything is delivered right to my door. Only one problem remained; what to do with the clothes when it was time to go home. Ebay solved that as well; here's how it happened.

I had been making non-apparel purchases on Ebay for a few years when I realized that the next time I was away on business I would be able to buy women's clothes on Ebay. Everything would be delivered to my out of town residence and no one would know I was buying women's clothes to wear myself. I anticipated my next business trip with great excitement. I dreamed of a closet bursting with high heels, stockings, panties, corsets, dresses, and wigs. I imagined a wardrobe that any hot girl would be proud of.

When the assignment for my next business trip arrived I could barely contain my excitement. I kissed my wife good-bye at the airport and then for the entire trip, I dreamed about what would soon be hanging in my closet. The minute I checked into my apartment I connected the computer and logged onto Ebay. I went crazy, buying five-inch patent leather high-heels, black stockings, garter belts, panties, and corsets. I spent over $200 and even paid extra for the fastest shipping available. Even while I was waiting for my items to arrive I continued to shop, I didn't buy too much more but I surfed and planned my next binge.

After a few days of glorious anticipation I realized something that sickened me. It was a disaster, the end of my life, something that would turn my world upside down. I had never changed the Ebay shipping address, all my beautiful, sexy clothes were about to be delivered to my home where my wife would wonder why so many packages were arriving. What was I going to do? What would I tell her?

I agonized over what I could say. None of the excuses I thought of worked, none of them made sense.

For example, I could say, "I don't know anything about it dear."

But then she would say, "Your name is on all the packages."

I could tell her, "All the clothes are for you honey."

But she would respond, "Everything is extra large. The shoes are size 12!"

I knew there was no way to talk my way out of it. I would have to tell her the truth. The realization set me free. There was no reason to mope, to feel sorry for myself, if my wife tossed me out of the house, divorced me, and took everything I owned while spreading my secret all over town, so be it. Shit happens. The next thing I did was add my current address to my Ebay account and start buying sexy items again. I was determined to not let anything prevent me from enjoying lace panties and high-heels while I was living on my own.

My wife, Ellen, called two days later. Half a dozen packages had arrived and she wanted to know what was going on. I told her the packages were personal, would she be kind enough to put them away until I returned home? Then she admitted that she had already opened them and wanted to know whom was I buying lingerie for. It was the end of the line, time to come out of the closet, she thought I was cheating so I blurted out the truth. Ellen was silent for two minutes after I told her that the clothes were for me. When she spoke again she asked a series of questions:

"Was I gay?"

"No," I assured her.

"How long have you been like this?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Did I want to be a woman?"

"No. The clothes just made me feel sexy."

The conversation ended abruptly with nothing resolved. I was afraid I had hurt her and that she might do something out of anger. She called back several hours later and in a very calm voice she said, "I don't want to talk about this again until you're home. Then we'll figure out where we're going."

She was true to her word. She never mentioned the clothes again even though we spoke every night. I received my second group of sexy purchases and enjoyed four weeks of unrestricted dressing in the sexiest, most slutty clothes available on Ebay. When my business was over, I decided to keep my new clothes, after all, if I was going to be banished from the house, there was no point to sacrificing the clothes. And since my wife knew everything, there was no danger of being caught.

I didn't know what to expect when I walked into my house, but what Ellen did shocked me. She grabbed my head with both hands, pulled our faces together and forced her tongue into my mouth and down my throat until I felt as if it were tickling my lungs. It was the deepest most passionate kiss I have ever had.

"Welcome home sweetheart," she said while taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. All the packages that had arrived while I was away were neatly piled on the floor beside the bed.

"Take a shower and wash really well with this," she said handing me a tube of some kind of soap. "Just don't use it to shampoo," she added. "When you finish showering, put on one of your woman's outfits. I want to see what you look like."

She stepped out of the room and closed the door. She's testing me, I thought, she wants to see if the clothes are really mine or if saying I'm a cross dresser is just me hiding an affair. I determined that I had to look great when I modeled my outfit for her. If I looked like I had never had a mini-dress and high-heels on before, she would think that I was lying, that I was involved with another woman.

I stepped into the shower and worked the soap she had given me into a lather. It surprised me when all my body hair rinsed off with the suds. Now I was really confused. Was she helping me to be a more convincing woman when she inspected me later? That must be it I thought, she's helping me, she wants to believe.

I toweled my body and blow-dried my long hair into the feminine style that I use when dressing. As a male my hair hangs straight and falls just below the shoulder. It's stringy, like a horse's mane, and is an indistinct mousy brown. But when I blow-dry it into my female style it takes on a new life. Large curls blanket my head, softening my face. The ringlet curls hang loosely, gently brushing my shoulders in a soft airy web. Light reflects off each curl differently depending on the angle, so high-lights appear, creating a chestnut brown color worthy of a model on a Revlon home hair coloring package.

Now, with my hair perfect, I shivered at the thought of seeing all the clothes that I had been pining over because of my shipping miscue. My hands trembled as I opened the first package. I nearly squealed with delight as my eyes fell upon the bridal-white corset. It was what I had been dying to wear for so long. Since I had received none of my original purchases, I had visited them, drooling over their photos daily on ebay. I held the lace-up corset at arms length and my brain flashed an image of me wearing the delicate feminine garment. I looked so beautiful and sexy it took my breath away.

When reality returned, I lowered the corset and stepped into it. I slid it up my legs and let it brush lightly across my fast stiffening cock as I lifted it into position. It was strapless, with an inch of fine lace trim around the top and bottom hems. As I tightened the laces the corset narrowed, compacting my waist almost effortlessly. I tugged the laces again and felt the bone stays compress my mid-section further. The garter straps danced, tickling my thighs as I pulled the laces one more time and tied them behind me. The ends of the laces dangled from the small of my back. I wiggled my behind, setting them swaying, gently grazing my ass cheeks and then settling softly in the crack.

This corset was wonderful, the best I've ever worn. I checked myself in the mirror and was amazed to see that I now had what looked like a 28-inch waist. The corset held me tight but was flexible enough for me to bend and I felt no discomfort when I opened the next box. More bridal-white. This time, thong panties and stockings. The panties were of the same satin material as the corset. Once in place they felt cool and comfortable on my cock and balls. The slippery thong strap slid deeper between my ass cheeks with every move I made. When I reached for a stocking it moved an inch. When I lifted my leg to slip into the stocking, the thong slid another inch. My panties, with their slow crawl into my ass, were driving me wild. I couldn't concentrate on getting dressed so long as the strap was lazily working its way into my crack. But I had to get on with it so I spread my legs, squatted, and shimmied like a stripper. That did it. I gasped as the thong finally came to rest, lodged deep between my cheeks.

I was beginning to worry that I was taking too long and that my wife would burst in before I was ready. I was enjoying myself tremendously but I couldn't dawdle, I had to finish dressing and face Ellen. I slipped quickly into the stockings and fastened the garters. I opened a small box and pulled out two silicone 36C breasts. I slipped them into the corset cups and pinched them into their proper place. I felt much more complete now that I had proper tits pressing against my own nipples.

The next box held my dress. It was the proverbial little black dress except that it was white. I made sure the zipper was open and stepped into the dress. I lifted it until I was able to slip my arms under the spaghetti straps and shrug them onto my shoulders. The mid-section was elastic. It conformed to my body so I twisted it into place and smoothed it across my stomach. I reached behind and raised the zipper, which snugged the dress across my tits. The skirt was loose below the elastic mid-riff and billowed nicely from my hips down to the hem that ended several inches above my knees.

I was dying to look in the mirror but I made up my mind to wait until I had completed the transformation. I kicked open a shoe box, luck was still with me, white 4-inch high-heel pumps tumbled from the box and landed one step away in a perfect position for me to step into. As I did, gaining height, tightening my legs and ass, my heart skipped a beat. The thrill of slipping into a pair of high-heels never failed to send a shiver of pleasure through my body no matter how many times I had worn heels before. I knew that with those high-heels on my feet I would look great, a hot woman with a killer body.

My reflection in the mirror did not disappoint. I looked as beautiful as I had hoped.

Finally it was time. I had to tear myself away from the mirror. Normally I would have strutted around, sitting, standing, laying on the bed, catching glimpses of myself in the mirror. I wanted to stare at myself and rub my hands all over my sexy feminine body until I was crazy with desire, aching to cum. But today wasn't usual, I had to face Ellen. I walked as calmly as possible to the door and stepped out.

My heels clicked through the house as I searched for my wife.

"In here," she called from the living room.

She was sitting on the sofa sipping a glass of red wine. I entered the room and I watched her mouth fall open.

"Oh, my god," she gasped. "Turn around."

I spun slowly, doing my best runway impersonation, giving her the full picture.

"You're gorgeous," she said, clearly amazed. "I never would have believed it." She patted the seat beside her, "have a seat."

I sat, crossing my legs femininely.

"Aren't you the perfect little lady," she said playfully and poured me a big glass of wine. "I'll be right back. You finish that glass while I'm gone."

I lifted the wine and gulped down half of it, then I sat back and let out a deep breath. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how tense I was. Even though I had been comfortable dressing in women's clothes for years, I had just exposed myself to my wife dressed as a woman. Her reaction seemed positive, I felt good, although I still didn't know what she really thought. I lifted my glass and guzzled the rest of the wine.

I finished a second glass before Ellen returned. She had changed her clothes. Gone were her pretty, casual slacks and blouse. In their place were what were probably Ellen's least feminine clothes, painter's over-alls with a tee shirt underneath. She lifted the wine bottle and refilled both glasses. She poured haphazardly, leaving two big spills on the coffee table.

"Sorry. I guess you'll have to wipe that up now," she said.

I stared blankly, not understanding.

"Get a rag and clean up that mess now, I said."

Her voice was forceful, direct, and a little threatening. There was no doubt she expected me to clean the spill. I started toward the kitchen for a sponge.

"Hurry!" she almost shouted.

I quickened my step. I thought I heard a small snicker and I know I felt her stare at my ass as I walked away. I wiggled it a little, just playing.

"Nice ass," she called after me.

When I returned with the sponge she was again seated on the sofa sipping wine. She watched me lasciviously as I blotted at the spill.

"Not like that. No woman moves like that," she said as she put her glass down and stepped around the table to me. She grabbed the sponge and demonstrated.

"Bend at the waist. Legs stay straight."

I took the sponge and did as she had done. She pushed down on my back.

"Bend at the waist. Keep your legs straight and your ass high. That's it."

I was finally doing it to Ellen's satisfaction. She was pleased with me and I felt good that she was. Suddenly, I felt her hands on my ass. She was gently caressing me. It felt very good, I closed my eyes and sighed.

"I thought you'd like that," Ellen cooed.

Her hands continued down below the hem of my dress. I sighed again when they touched my stockinged legs and I groaned when her hands slid under my dress between my thighs. Ellen brushed my balls through the silky panties and I melted, nearly falling as my legs buckled.

"Oh, what a sweet, innocent, horny girl you are," she whispered. "You're so hot. I can't wait to fuck you."

My mind raced, pictures of Ellen and I engaged in a slow and tender lesbian 69 flashed in my brain. In my imagination she and I would be best girlfriends who thrilled to each other's gentle touch. Being a lipstick lesbian was my fantasy. It would soon be apparent that Ellen had other ideas.

"You make me so horny, baby. What's your name?" she asked softly.

"Marcia," I answered meekly.

"Don't be shy, baby," she said. "I like you Marcia, I can't wait to get into your pretty panties. Feel this, see how anxious I am?"

She pushes her hips forward and twisted it against my ass. I felt something hard dig against me.

"That's my cock, girl," she said in a sultry rasp.

I must have pulled away because Ellen said quickly, "Don't be afraid. My cock and your pussy are going to be best friends."

Ellen stepped back, again sitting on the sofa.

"You've given me a good hard-on but I want a bit more entertainment," Ellen announced. "Come over here and give me a lap dance."

I stepped toward her hesitating. I didn't know if I should do what she wanted or run away. She was frightening me.

"Take you dress off," she commanded.

I unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, laying it neatly on a chair. Ellen practically licked her lips, ogling me as I stepped between her spread legs.

I imagined music, closed my eyes, and danced as suggestively as I could. I performed all the moves I could remember from strip clubs that I'd been to. I twisted and writhed; I ground my ass against Ellen's crotch. I shook my tits in her face, and then I turned and displayed my ass, bending forward so she got a good view of the thong in my crack.

I remained bent over and spread my cheeks with my hands. When I felt Ellen's warm lips kiss my ass I pushed against them. Her hands were all over me. She massaged my tits, ass, thighs and ball. Her touch was electric; I had never felt sensations like these before. I tingled under the panties and stockings when she caressed me. Soon her hard cock was rubbing against me.

"This is what you want," she said. "Admit it Marcia, you want my hard cock."

"Yes," I answered, unable to control my desire. "I want your hard cock."

"Lean over the table," she ordered. "Put your chest on the table and keep your ass in the air where I can reach it."

I did as she ordered and waited while I heard her unbuckle the overalls. When I turned, I saw that Ellen had an eight-inch dildo strapped to her crotch. She lowered my panties and slid the rubber cock against my ass, letting it excite and terrify me. I heard her fumble with something and then gel spurting from a tube. I felt a cool sensation on my ass hole. Ellen was lubing me for easy penetration.

"You're going to love this, Marcia," she whispered reassuringly. "All the girls are afraid their first time, but then they love fucking."

One finger slipped easily into my ass followed quickly by a second. She worked them in and out and rotated them, stretching my sphincter. She withdrew the two fingers and reinserted them along with a third. I sighed happily.

"I see you've done this before, " Ellen whispered. "You are so wet and hot. I'd say your ready for my cock."

She removed her fingers pushed the dildo into me in one easy, smooth and slow motion. As it filled me, I gasped and push back to greet it.

"What a silly thing I am," Ellen admitted. "Imagine, me thinking that I was going to have to teach you to enjoy having your ass fucked when it's obvious that you've been doing this for a long time."

"I've only done it by myself," I said quickly, wanting her to know that I had never cheated.

"You've only fucked your own ass? You've never been with anyone else?"

Ellen's cock had slid into me as far as possible, her thighs were pressing against my ass and I was having trouble concentrating on my words.

"No, never," I managed to croak. "Only by myself."

She slowly drew the cock back until it was almost completely out of my ass.

"Please don't stop," I begged.

She rammed the dildo forward, filling my ass in a split second.

"Oh, I'm not stopping," she said. "I'm about to show you what a real fucking is all bout."

Suddenly, she slapped my ass with her palm and began pumping her cock in and out in long powerful thrusts. Soon we were both breathing heavily, Ellen was really working hard. I began to feel tremors in my body. Waves of warm shivers started deep in my ass and radiated out in all directions; down my legs, forward toward my balls and cock, and up my spine. My back arched and my leg muscles twitched. My body was rigid but I still managed to push back meeting every one of Ellen's thrusts.

"How's that Marcia?" Ellen demanded. "Are you going to cum? I want to make you cum. I want to fuck you 'til you cum."

My head tilted back, I would have been looking at the ceiling if my eyes hadn't rolled back into their sockets. My breath became shorter and I realized that I was moaning rhythmically. I was indeed very close to an orgasm.